Chapter Forty-One Zephyra
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
ZEPHYRA
I lurch backward, and Arion’s hand falls from my skin. A high-pitched ringing starts in my ears. “I am not—”
“A goddess?” Mortem finishes. “Perhaps not now, but once upon a time, you were the finest creature on this earth.” He shadows my steps as I back away from him, somehow anticipating each one. “Vila, my dear. My wife. You always come home.”
It’s too ridiculous. The craziest theory anyone could ever have concocted. I am not special; I am not a goddess.
I am just Zephyra.
A mermaid. A woman.
Instinctively, my eyes dart around the temple for any means of escape.
I—I have to leave, have to flee, and—shit.
Fuck, this cannot be happening. When Mortem blocks my path, I sidestep hastily, but he follows me without hesitation.
He always follows me. His obsession has never wavered since that moment on the beach. I’m here with you, Zephyra.
I will always be right here with you.
This man—this god—is either out of his mind, or… he’s right. And in this moment, I can’t decide which is worse. “My—my name is Zephyra. Zephyra of the Syl.” My voice catches on the last. “I have a father and a brother. I had a mother. She died from humans… pirates. They skewered her on sight.”
“Did they?” he asks lightly, still prowling after me. “Or was it someone disguised as a pirate? Did your father see much more than the tail end of your mother’s demise? We are eternal, my dear. We are always intertwined.”
No. Fucking no. Goddess, I’m going to be sick.
But the thought only makes me sicker. I can’t be…
I am not Vila. “I have memories. I have a childhood. I—I spent eight years withering away in your castle.” Where he punished me.
Every single day. Where he never let me go, where he hurt me, where he locked me in darkness and reveled in my screams. Unbidden, the shadow ballet replays in my mind, how Mortem tortured Vila until she exploded.
“You always do.” When my back presses into Vila’s statue, he captures my hand, brushing it against his lips. “I always find you, whether your name is Vila or Serafina or Zephyra. We are destined for each other.”
I try, then fail, to jerk away my hand.
If all this is true—which it’s decidedly not—it’s a less-than-comforting thought.
Resurrecting after every death only to hurt more, to be tortured again and again and again by his same cruel hands.
Lifetimes of abuse. Lifetimes of hopeless wandering.
No one would deserve that. No one. I finally succeed in wrenching my hand from his.
“All this to punish this woman for… for not loving you?”
“At first.” Mortem tilts his head as if genuinely considering my question.
“In the beginning, when you and I were divine, it was about your fickle feelings. How you could gaze upon me with warmth one day and icy resentment the next. How you could replace me with lesser men and women. Mortals.” His lip curls as he adds, “You existed on it, devouring life and love like a woman starved. Why couldn’t you see that I…
I loved you, Vila?” Without warning, his hand lashes out to seize my hair, and he twists it around his fist with brutal force, dragging me against him. “I would have given you everything.”
I bare my teeth, unable to move. “You’re deranged.”
A low, dangerous noise rumbles from his chest. “I love you even now, and still it’s not enough.
You tricked me here, in this very temple, you know?
You promised to wed yourself to me for eternity, but you carved out my fucking heart.
” If possible, his grip on my hair tightens, nearly ripping it from my scalp, but I refuse to scream.
My jaw clenches with the effort. It threatens to crack.
“You cursed it somewhere only you could find it. Touch it. Use it.”
Alarm bells peal inside my head, but I still cannot move, cannot do anything Mortem doesn’t allow. The pain in my scalp brings tears to my eyes now. It no longer matters if what he says is true; he believes it’s true, and he has no intention of letting me go. Of letting anyone go.
“When I killed you,” he says tightly, “I thought it would be enough. I thought you would stay dead and that the Abysses ruins had washed away with your corpse.” His hand twists.
“Imagine my surprise when a pink-haired mermaid swam upon my trench mere years later, glittering stars in her turquoise eyes. She even smelled like you. Spoke like you. Looked like you. Vila reincarnated, only she—you—had no idea.” He laughs, and the sound is cold and dark.
Dead. “You were finally mine to do with as I pleased. I’ve spent centuries with you as my beautiful marionette, waiting for the day you might open that bronze chest and restore my heart, but in all those lifetimes, you never once loved me. You always came to despise me.”
He twines his second hand through my hair, bringing his face even closer.
Speaking directly against my lips. I openly gag.
“It was as if our tragedy had embedded its gore in your bones,” he says, “and you inherently knew to avoid the doorway that appeared in the floor of the castle’s lowest antechamber.
You knew to keep Abysses hidden, and my heart along with it. ”
I slam my knee into his groin, spinning out of his reach when his grip loosens.
A leaden sensation descends as I realize just once, he let me go.
I don’t expect him to do it again, but that doesn’t mean I won’t go down fighting.
If that fucker touches me again, I’ll cut off his hands.
I don’t care that he can grow them back.
“I can’t imagine why anyone would help you. You’re a monster.”
He ignores me. “I owe it all to Jacin. Of course, you’ve fallen in love nearly every lifetime, so perhaps it was my fault for not seeing it sooner, but the only way you would ever retrieve my godhood was with the proper motivation.
Goddess of Life, Love, and Sea. You would do anything for those you adore.
When the warlock—whose renowned magic had infiltrated even my castle—started searching for my power, I knew.
It was time. After all, you could fall in love with a fucking rock.
And what are warlocks other than stone and blood and war?
” Waving a hand, he adds, “I offered you a bargain, allowing you to run right for Mortia’s shores while Gavriall found the proper texts to tempt the warlock.
I did what distance allowed, planted seeds I could water from my oceanic prison, and then…
I waited. You did not disappoint, Vila, my wife. We can’t escape our destiny, can we?”
He stalks closer, and with each step, his pretense falls away, revealing the true evil within. His voice loses all guile when he says, “Open the chest, Vila. Restore me to my rightful state—and save your friends.”
And there it is.
The reason for all this.
He thinks I am the only one who can retrieve his precious heart—or rather, only Vila can—and the others… they’re blackmail. He brought them here to ensure I’d do his bidding. It will always be love with you. Love for a stranger, a kingdom, a friend, and… Arion. A soulmate.
I glance back at him to find his silver-gold eyes fixed on mine.
Still alive, somehow. Undoubtedly the sorcerer’s doing.
His wings twitch helplessly, trying desperately to pull him to me.
They can’t, however. As if to prove it—as if he’s been waiting for me to look at him—Arion’s lids flutter closed. They do not open again.
And it finally happens.
Mortem finally breaks me.
“I don’t believe you,” I whisper. The goddess would never have allowed this to happen. The goddess would know the way out—would use her power to save the people she loves. I am not her. I am not strong enough to be her.
“Then ask your friend.” Mortem waves a hand, freeing Vesper from her cage. She falls forward and gasps for air before meeting my gaze, despondent. Hopeless.
“I couldn’t open it,” she admits in a small, flat voice. “I tried to take the heart… to stop this before he arrived…” Though her throat bobs, no tears fall. “I couldn’t open the chest, and I couldn’t reach the heart. It was locked, and I couldn’t pick it.”
I look at Mortem, and I want to lash out at him, to scream at him, to tell him how much I hate him.
“I love you, Zephyra, because your loathing does not and cannot exist without love. For you, they are intrinsically linked. So when you say, ‘I hate you,’ I know what you really mean is ‘I love you.’”
“And if I do this,” I say instead, “if I try to open it… will you leave us alone? All of us?”
“It will work.” He steps closer, too close, until our toes nearly touch, and he looms over me. His finger caresses my chin.
“Even Eos,” I say. “Bring her back now. Not as your servant, as the same exact young woman she’d been before she died.”
“Before you ensured her death, you mean,” Mortem says coolly.
“Yes,” I agree without flinching. “Before I was the reason she died, she was happy and full of life and she lived with her sister on the streets of Crestfall. I want her to return to that, and I want you to give them enough coin that they can leave. I want you to help them find a better place to live. I want you to help Amaya’s people.
I want you to rescue Gavriall from his tower and sever his debt.
I want you to save Arion’s life. I want his magic restored, and I want him—I want him back where he belongs without any repercussions.
” I glare at the loathsome god, lifting my chin in palpable obstinacy.
“You ask for a lot, Vila.”
“So do you, Mortem.”