Chapter 56
Chapter Fifty-Six
Evelyn
True death was like a blink.
Light shined for the briefest moment, and then darkness flashed. Evelyn was in the living world and a breath later, zapped to nowhere.
Weightless, she fell through a realm of a thousand stars.
Her perception kept shifting. Here, there, and everywhere. At one angle, she stared at a fathomless black, falling from the light shining above, and the next she blinked, Evelyn witnessed herself from afar, a speck in the vast oblivion of nothingness, free-falling.
“Evelyn!”
She twisted, heart bursting at the sight of Kade falling alongside her. Evelyn grasped his outstretched hand and fought the tears that threatened to spill.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered.
With hands clasped, Evelyn and Kade fell, fell, and fell. Oblivion waited below, waiting to swallow them whole. Kade held true, jaw tight, but amber eyes shining with determination.
For the first time in weeks, pain didn’t bloom through Evelyn. Her chest was hollow, but something tugged at the edge, like the taut yank of a thread.
Her hand ripped from his grasp, and her fated growled, trying to get to her. It was as if an invisible rope had gripped Evelyn’s ankles and tugged her in the opposite direction. Away from Kade.
Their fingertips brushed over the other, one last feathery touch before they drifted too far apart. Kade’s bellowing protest was muted. Lost.
Kade vanished.
“No!” Evelyn cried.
Was it the spell? Was it the Otherworld? Why were they ripped apart?
Below Evelyn, the nothingness ripped like a sliver of paper, and another world’s light burned her eyes—
Evelyn awoke to the warm kiss of the sun’s rays, birds singing in the distance, and bees buzzing. She blinked and immediately searched for Kade.
Fucking flames, where was he?
She found herself in a pasture of wildflowers. Buttercups, purple and blue cornflowers, daisies, and foxgloves reflected the colors of the sky. Glowing bees bobbed from flower to flower and zoomed past to follow a creek bending into a forest of magnificent trees.
White bark peeled to a darker flesh, and the leaves shined like luminescent gold, reminding her of Kade’s eyes.
He, who was nowhere in sight.
His name lodged in her throat. She was desperate to call out to him, but she gripped the ground, plush and dewy grass tearing in her grasp. As beautiful as the place was, her gut swam with distrust, like it wasn’t real.
What was to say she’d even landed in the Otherworld?
She tried to grasp the mating bond, testing to see if it was back, but found nothing. Though the frayed threads of her soul had woven together, it wasn’t whole again, and her magic was still missing.
With an ounce of relief washing through her, Evelyn stood and teetered foot to foot. Still weightless but grounded. Her insides stretched like summer-spun sugar. Her clothes were the same—traveling britches and tunic, but her boots were gone, toes digging into the grass.
Tones of blue and pink swirled in a cloudless sky, rivets of purple weaving on the horizon. The sun, or a sun, glowed like a golden, contained orb. It sat so large and low in the sky, Evelyn reached out to touch it, her movements feathery like the whoosh of mists.
Something tugged at her heart, and Evelyn stilled, holding her breath. It wasn’t Kade. It was fainter and farther and . . .
Evelyn turned north, and an ache bloomed in her chest. She palmed the spot and rubbed it, soothing the absence.
Tug.
“Fucking flames,” Evelyn hissed, stumbling forward.
Tug, tug, tug.
The pesky sensation pulled from the north, up the creek and into the forest of impressive, ethereal trees. Evelyn’s instinct screamed for her to keep going in that direction. Was it her magic calling to her?
A branch snapped, and Evelyn whirled.
“Kade?” she whispered.
No one answered, but movement caught Evelyn’s eye. In the trees, it was too difficult to see who or what hid between the shimmering leaves, but they rustled enough to indicate something was about. Evelyn backed up a step and halted.
A giggle reached towards Evelyn’s heart, the infectious bubbliness washing over her like a sunny day in Callum. Hope and caution warred within her as she took a steady step forward, throat going dry.
“Who’s there?” she asked.
Green wool peeked between the leaves—it was an oversized sweater layered under overalls. That outfit. That green. Evelyn clenched her fists, the thumping of her heart echoing in her ears. Goddess—
“Evelyn!”
“Aster?” she breathed, stunned to her bones.
Her sweet and round-eyed friend jumped out from behind the tree. Sticks and forest debris stuck out of her red ringlets, and her bare feet were covered in mud. But despite the wear of the forest, she looked well, happy, and alive.
With hands. Small, delicate, freckled hands.
A sob cracked out of Evelyn, and she barreled into Aster, pulling her into the tightest hug. She inhaled her fern-and-daisy scent, memories of Pages and Leaves transcending through her.
“I’m gone, and now you like hugs.” Aster’s words came out muffled against Evelyn’s chest as she refused to let her go.
“I’m so, so, sorry, Aster. For what happened. For—”
Her friend wiggled free, grasping Evelyn’s hands and giving them a squeeze. Those bright, russet eyes roamed over her, and instantly, warmth spread through Evelyn’s chest.
“What happened is not your fault,” Aster said.
Evelyn shook her head, vision blurring. “But I—”
“No.” There was that fierceness she missed from her friend.
“I refuse to let you blame yourself. The White Lady killed me, Evelyn. She also lied to you—it wasn’t at my shop, and I never cried out your name.
I was picking buttercups when suddenly I was here.
There was no fear, Evelyn. No pain. My death was swift. ”
Evelyn swallowed, throat thick with tears. “We killed her, Kade and I.”
Aster’s smile was small. “I know. I actually know a lot of things now.”
Evelyn tilted her head and studied the knowing etched into her friend’s glowing face. “Let me take a wild guess, you know why I’m here?”
“Yes, in fact I do!” Aster released Evelyn and planted her hands onto her petite hips.
“You sacrificed your magic, Miss Evelyn Carson. And”—she raised a finger to stop Evelyn’s protest—“I don’t want to hear how it was the only option.
I thought we’d been over this—your magic is a part of your soul. Rather foolish, don’t you think?”
Evelyn laughed, brushing away her tears. “Goddess, I’ve missed you.”
Aster’s ire softened. “Well, I’d be lying if I didn’t say I missed you, too, or at least mention that what you did wasn’t a little bit brave.”
“Only a bit?” Evelyn smiled so wide her cheeks bruised.
Aster pinched her forefinger and thumb together. “A bit, about the size of a poppy seed.”
Evelyn threw up her hands and rolled her eyes. “If it makes you feel any better, it hurt like shit.”
“How do we think it felt for us?”
“Us?”
Aster gestured around them. “The Otherworld. Your power barreled in like a fallen star not too long ago, thanks to your little trip here.”
Evelyn snapped straighter. “You know where my magic is?”
Her friend bounced from muddy foot to muddy foot. “That’s why I’m here. The Sun Goddess asked me to retrieve you. I’m your guide.” She puffed out chest, every inch of her proud.
Evelyn wrestled with so many tumbling emotions. On one hand, she was relieved to see Aster, but saddened by the circumstances. This was Aster, yes, but it was her soul because—
She shook her head, snagging on something Aster had said. “Wait, the Sun Goddess? The one who gave me my power? Is Kade with her?”
Aster studied her. “Kade has his own journey in the Otherworld, and I wouldn’t worry.
The Moon God is a fairly nice god. He isn’t like .
. .” The freckles on Aster’s nose connected as she scrunched her nose in thought.
She sighed, lowering her voice to a whisper as she said, “Look, I believe the Sun Goddess gifted witches the power of magic long ago, but . . . Your flame is yours alone, Evelyn.”
Evelyn shook her head, peering up at the sun. “It’s her power, no? It’s a Goddess-given gift.”
A smirk cracked Aster’s freckled features, and she leaned in closer, one brow raised. “I thought you didn’t care for titles anymore. How did you put it?” Aster schooled her features to a deadpan, lowering the pitch of her voice as she said, “Titles don’t define us, actions do.”
“I don’t sound that deep,” Evelyn giggled. “Fucking flames, are you eavesdropping on all my private conversations?”
Aster shrugged. “Perhaps a few. This plain of existence is beautiful, but at times boring.”
A breeze blew past, raising goosebumps on Evelyn’s skin. Her blood turned to ice, and she tried and tried to find some sense of relief that Aster was here.
Aster’s death wasn’t her fault, but old thoughts about mistakes and decisions, and what-ifs spiraled through her mind. She tried to shake them and convince herself they didn’t serve her while trying to get her magic back.
Evelyn swallowed and grounded herself in what she’d visited the Otherworld for.
“Where exactly is my magic?” she asked.
“The palace, of course,” Aster said, pointing down a winding path through the forest.
A crawling sensation crept up Evelyn’s spine. She’d only ever encountered one goddess before, and she still felt the Blood Goddess’s cold mists on her skin when she closed her eyes and thought of her time in the Drystan dungeons.
But why would her instinct feel unease with the Sun Goddess?
The two were entirely different deities—the two couldn’t be more different, right?
Perhaps it wasn’t unease, it was nerves.
To meet a deity or enter her palace, no less.
What did she think of Evelyn’s latest actions?
Did she think Evelyn was foolish like Aster?
Stop worrying, she told herself.
“Let’s go,” Evelyn finally said, far calmer than she felt.
Aster led the way, and the two fell into step together.