Chapter Sixty #2
Shadows marred the gold of the Sun Goddess’s eyes and dissipated like mists, far too like the ones that had entered Evelyn’s cell in the Drystan dungeons. Her brows scrunched together, her mind reeling.
“But that’s what you’re here for, isn’t it? Aster, won’t you do the honors, my little pet?”
Aster winced, and Evelyn saw red. Her instinct screamed to do something, to defend her friend, but Aster scurried ahead without a backward glance, small dainty hands wringing together.
No. That wasn’t right. Aster was fearless, bubbly.
Evelyn cut a glare towards the Sun Goddess—how fucking dare she dim the light of the brightest soul.
Yet, everyone focused on the dais at the north end of the room. Something draped with a crimson silk sheet stood at the center. The feet of a lone column stuck out, and whatever lay atop it, wiggled and writhed, as if starved for air and fighting for release.
Aster, hands shaking, pulled back the sheet, revealing an orb of flame. Evelyn’s flame. Like sang to like. It was her power. A piece of her soul on display as if it were some coveted artifact for all to see, no different than the marble statues she’d passed in the foyer.
Pain seared through Evelyn’s chest, the gaping hole near her heart pulsing and festering. She fought the urge to crumple to her knees. Kade lurched forward, but the God of Night countered his approach.
“Step aside, Nótt!” the Moon God boomed through the hall. Candles whooshed out, even the sun dimmed, casting shadows on the depravity of the party. Gods, goddesses, and souls cowered, huddling closer to one another and backing away from the center of the hall.
The Sun Goddess clucked her tongue. She molded her hand slowly onto the God of Night’s shoulder, pronouncing her slender, clawed hands. She held him back with glistening eyes set on the Moon God.
“You’re no fun, Odin,” she tutted, fanning a pout. “We’ve been dreaming of this day for centuries.”
“A day that never would’ve arrived if it weren’t for your brashness, Macha,” Odin said, ushering Kade forward.
In two deliberate strides, Evelyn flung herself into his arms, not caring what god or goddess witnessed their love and touch. Power thrummed through him. She smelled it in his scent. In every muscle and fiber of his being, he was raw with it.
Kade was power.
The God of Night whistled while the Sun Goddess clasped her hands to her chest, knotted knuckles paler than before as she shook with excitement.
“Mortal love,” she whispered.
“In its purest form. Rare, so rare . . . I find myself utterly . . .” The Moon God searched for the right word, running his tongue across his needlelike fangs. “Captivated.”
He sneered, spreading his arms wide to encourage those in the hall.
They whispered and laughed, causing bile to churn in Evelyn’s stomach.
She and Kade molded closer to the other, hands interlocking.
He kept her steady, kept her grounded as she threatened to empty the contents of her stomach onto the palace floor.
She and Kade were a spectacle. They were nothing to the gods but something to fill the boredom of immortality.
It was no different than the papers of Nūa—a fabricated tale in the Morning Sun for covens to gossip about.
Yet, these gods had power, sight, and the ability to help.
Not that witches and werewolves didn’t, but these were their creators, ones with the ability to shift the trajectory of fate, and here they were, gawking at Evelyn and Kade as if one of their own wasn’t destroying Sorin.
Ahead, Evelyn’s magic flared higher, illuminating the hall’s walls.
Embers sparked towards the ceiling, mirroring the angry heat flushing through her.
Evelyn swore she spied silver in the dance of orange and red, but the painting, the depiction of a battle on the walls had Evelyn stepping forward for a better look.
Aster hurried down from the dais, joining her side as she studied the oiled swirls.
A dark-haired goddess, skin ashen, was bound in chains.
The Blood Goddess’s namesake dripped down her chin and stained her taloned hands.
She was so different than the others, so monstrous.
The other gods glowed with faint auras—Macha yellow, Odin pearl, and Nótt indigo—and the splatter of blood, dirt, and war didn’t mar their beauty.
With mighty weapons in hand, they dragged her to a fissure in the land’s surface. Mists swirled around it, and the painting depicted the darkness beneath the land—crooked roots, barren trees, glowing mushrooms, and prowling madra.
“You’ve defeated her before.” Evelyn whirled towards the Sun Goddess. “Why have you done nothing?”
The Sun Goddess snickered. “Is that what you think? I gifted you my power.”
“My magic is mine and mine alone,“ Evelyn said through gritted teeth.
The Sun Goddess blinked. The murmurs in the hall had fallen to apprehensive whispers. The air shifted to unease. The God of Night eyed Evelyn and Kade, slinking back a step. The Moon God, on the other hand, burst into a wide, toothy smile. Was that pride flashing through his tired eyes?
Evelyn’s words had left her lips before they’d even fully registered. The belief flushed through her so aggressively she rocked back on her heels, shocked by her own revelation. Of course, she’d not considered her magic belonged to witches, but it went deeper than that.
Yes, the Sun Goddess had gifted witches a kernel of power all those years ago, and Evelyn was the third born in the prophecy, but she was nothing like this goddess.
Neither was her power. Distrust snaked through Evelyn for the Sun Goddess’s intentions, her nature.
Cruel, arrogant, pompous. She’d witnessed her struggles, marveled at them.
Had she laughed the times Evelyn had called out to her?
Even those days, years ago, when she’d first traveled to the Cirrillo and prayed at the temple, had the Sun Goddess sipped her wine, leaned back, and enjoyed the show?
There’d been a time in Evelyn’s life when she would’ve cowered from the thought, her skin crawling and prickling from embarrassment. But now all she felt was rage. Being played like a puppet wasn’t fate, but cruelty.
The Sun Goddess’s behavior, her decisions, what she’d done—or lack thereof—was a reflection of her, not Evelyn. She’d trained, fought, run, bled, and loved these last years—that reflected who she was. She wasn’t some story the Nūa papers crafted, nor a show the Otherworld could watch.
Every part of her, even her magic thrummed with truth. Ahead, it flickered as if agreeing, and for the second time, Evelyn spied rivets of luminescent silver.
“My magic is mine, no one else,” Evelyn repeated, stepping towards the goddess. “I’m here to take it back.”
“Silence!” The Sun Goddess’s command grated against Evelyn’s mind, and the distinct smell of mildew and cold, wet stone filtered through her memory—
“Ungrateful, pathetic, and selfish mortal!” the Sun Goddess shook. “You come into my palace, my world—“
Kade growled, eyes brightening to a pearly blue. The same shimmer glowed at his hands. Controlled, yes, but immense, too.
The Sun Goddess stiffened. “What have you done, Odin?”
“Ensured the world survives,” he whispered.
The goddess remained still, too still, like hundreds of thousands of years wheeled through her distant gaze. Calculating.
Then she giggled.
Slow, throaty until it grew into shrill laughter that threatened to crack the hall’s windows. The crowd joined, and instinctually, Evelyn drew closer to Kade.
“Oh, sweet, gentle Odin . . .” The Sun Goddess gathered her skirts.
“The Son of the God was never the problem. So duty bound and loyal to the prophecy. So very, very much like you. No, no, no . . . The fate of Sorin has always rested in the hands of a witch, desperate to control the path I wrote for her. Now, because of her selfish decisions, she is left with no choice but to make an ultimate sacrifice, or else her power, magic, and soul will remain here, dooming everyone she loves to the curse.”
The God of Night smirked, licking his lips at the prospect.
Evelyn fisted her hands at her sides, stilling the icy cold rushing through her veins. “What sacrifice may that be?” she asked.
The Sun Goddess flicked her hands for Aster to come, beckoning her forward.
Evelyn stilled, and Kade grasped her forearm, holding her back. Wait.
Odin whispered into Evelyn’s ear, his words a mere breath. “Remember, your power is life to ride the shade.”
The god annunciated the word your—he agreed, knew her power was hers and hers only.
The Sun Goddess sighed. “You severed your soul so greatly, Evelyn, it needs more than patching but something extra. Sweet Aster has volunteered, waited all these months for you to arrive.”
“What does Aster have to do with this?” Evelyn asked, words getting stuck in her dry throat.
The God of Night prowled to the Sun Goddess, grabbing her waist. “Let her come to the conclusion on her own,” he whispered into her ear, “You know I delight in how clever she is.”
“I’m going to fucking gut him,” Kade breathed.
The Sun Goddess smiled, and when Evelyn blinked, she saw Visha—beautiful, sneering, and cruel. “Think of it like this, Aster will now always be with you.”
“What?” Evelyn demanded.
“Aster Arkwood has always been such a wonderful witch,” the goddess drawled. “She knew how to guide you in the living world. Why not let her help you from this day forth? Aster’s power grows life, Evelyn. It’ll only strengthen your ability to defeat the Blood Goddess once and for all.”
Aster grabbed her hand. “My magic, it’s yours Evelyn. Take it.”
The suggestion, the implication had Evelyn’s insides twisting so violently, she thought perhaps a knife had lodged into her gut and shredded her from the inside. Kade kept her standing, but she felt his riled wolf, the beastly energy brimming in the air.
“Your magic is your soul. What will become of you?” Evelyn whispered.