Chapter 37
Sorrow
Nearby, firepits burnish the summit. Below, the sea’s rapids smash against the crags. Shrouded from their encampment, the stunned gazes of her crewmates spear through Sorrow like javelins.
The ruler stands alone, the folds of her gown rippling like a sail. She glances placidly at Sorrow’s friends, who scramble to raise their weapons.
Stricken, they digest the monarch’s presence. More importantly, Sorrow’s proximity beside her.
Confusion warps Envy’s features. But when Sorrow fails to explain, he does the math. His complexion blanches, and his baritone tapers to a hiss, a shadow of his normal voice. “No.”
“You. Can’t. Be. Serious,” Anger grates, rage climbing up his face.
“It’s not true.” Traumatized, Merry shakes her head. “I won’t believe it.”
“Nor I,” Love whispers, her black wings tensing, the plumes ready to swat the monarch off the promontory.
Andrew aims his weapon and grits out, “This is bullshit.”
In desperation, Wonder pores over Sorrow’s countenance. “Dearest?”
But astute Malice is already there. He slants his gilded head, the razor edge of his jaw tightening. “What do they have on you?”
Heads bob toward him, then to Sorrow. Although he’s correct, it’s merely the hunt for an excuse. Her soul wilts from their conviction, the loyalty she hasn’t reciprocated.
Betrayal rips a hole in Envy’s face. That’s the most agonizing part, grabbing her by the jugular, threatening to shove Sorrow to her knees.
His honed words slice the air in half. “Who cares why the fuck she’s doing this?” he growls. “The point is, she’s bending over for the enemy like a spineless waif.”
“Who cares?” Merry repeats, incredulous. Disarming, she braces a palm to her chest. “I do! I care because she’s family. We’re all family.” She pivots toward each of them. “Aren’t we?”
Staggered silence. The crew swaps grave looks, the sorts of expressions that bleed.
Sorrow withholds a sob as Merry flounces toward her. “Sorrow?”
As she trails off, the unspoken question surfaces. Why is Sorrow doing this?
Because she has to. Because they’re going to lose. And when they lose, the degree of Envy’s suffering—all of their suffering—will depend on her. Because she has no choice. Because the moment she fell in love with this crew, and the moment she gave herself to Envy, everything changed.
The reply is simple, yet the words scatter across her tongue like loose marbles. Her stupefied friends shift, torn between disbelief, treachery, and rancor.
This is what wounds do. They taint and fester.
The Court would have rooted out this location anyway, but her actions have erased the crew’s advantage, plus the element of surprise. Sorrow’s disloyalty is a ruthless measure, stripping them of faith.
These figures were once her crewmates in name only, then her allies, then her friends. As Merry said, they’ve become Sorrow’s family. To that end, she knows their fighting tactics and vulnerabilities.
Envy’s scowl hardens into contempt, the vision chipping at her, piece by piece.
The ruler offers the crew a conciliatory glance, her sympathy genuine rather than patronizing.
In particular, this catches Wonder’s attention.
Which brings to mind something Wonder once shared about her mission with Malice in The Archives, while the pair did bookish spy work.
When they’d briefly gotten caught, this reigning goddess exhibited an affinity toward Wonder and Malice, even curiosity about their cause.
“Consider this a parlay,” the ruler says. “You’re outnumbered, out-magicked, and outranked. Stand down, and we’ll show benevolence in the face of treason.”
“Compromise with us, and we’ll stand down,” Love counters.
When the female glances at Love, a twinkle of pride filters through. “Goddess of Love. Our infamous revolutionary spark.” She inclines her head. “I’m afraid only when The Stars command it shall we compromise. Yet they haven’t. What does that tell you?”
No one speaks. Because why the hell haven’t The Stars intervened?
“Then a battle, it must be,” the monarch concludes.
A massive form soars into view, its great wingspan liable to remove a chunk of the summit. The lunar heron bats its plumage. Its spindle limbs land atop the cliff, its size having shifted at the presumed behest of this monarch.
So that’s how the female got here in record time. While the ruler could have manifested, that wouldn’t have been ideal, given she isn’t planning on leaving alone.
The raptor’s appearance startles the company. But not as much as the goddess ushering Sorrow onto the avian’s back, then straddling in front.
“Oh, and as to your choice of fortification,” the monarch imparts, somewhat apologetically. “Don’t you think we know the stargazer’s weak points of entry?”
Sorrow’s eyes widen. Such a basic fact that hadn’t occurred to her, nor to her friends, the announcement stalling their weapons.
The avian vaults into the firmament. Sorrow’s insides swoop from the elevation as she grips the female’s middle for balance, the wind lashing at their hair.
Peeking over her shoulder, the silhouettes of her friends shrink, along with Envy’s livid glare.
Shingled wings vibrate as she and the monarch fly at a breakneck pace, their shadows oscillating across the sea.
Welding her eyes shut, Sorrow ignores the clench of her heart, lest it should topple her over the edge.
Instead, she concentrates on the waterfall enclave, where Envy showed her a new source of pleasure.
The poignant visuals feast on her soul, chewing her to bits, so that a cry of pain clots her throat.
The trip passes quickly. They descend in the Palace of Starlight, in the amphitheater’s throne arena, back where she started. The Fate Court awaits, nodding to the goddess as she disembarks and inspecting Sorrow with begrudging astonishment.
One pasty pale goddess in particular. Spite clutters the female’s gaze, the scarred gash where Sorrow had rammed her boots into the ruler twisting that mouth into a caricature.
Whatever. She’ll heal. And so will the wounds across Sorrow’s arms.
In any case, Sorrow hadn’t wanted to create a fuss, which is why she’d called out to only one of them. That had been shortly before Envy cornered her, mashed her into the cliffside, and laid siege to Sorrow’s body.
The next several hours prove disorientating.
The rulers question her, though she has the presence of mind to keep both fists to herself this time.
Because brainpower is as dangerous as a blade, she plays a mind game, channeling the skills she picked up from Malice to obstruct her answers.
Come on, she’d hadn’t planned on simply caving without a fight.
If Sorrow must align herself with these fuckers, best to screw with their plans. She provides enough skewed information to satisfy them without offering crucial or authentic details, omitting certain particulars and feigning cluelessness about others.
It’s fortunate that Sorrow’s a jaded goddess. Her inherent cynicism convinces them she hadn’t invested time in bonding with her allies enough to know their private susceptibilities.
Outwardly, she relents. Inwardly, she revolts.
Preparations to conquer Fortune’s Crest commence.
The rulers assemble at the Astral Sea, summoning all loyals to bear arms. To say the crowd is gobsmacked by Sorrow’s participation is an understatement, the deities’ gazes ranging from impressed to repulsed by her shift in allegiances.
To them, Sorrow’s actions render her wishy-washy.
Despite the misinformation she fed The Court, the sheer quantity of fighters doubles her pulse.
Over the next three days, thousands of them suffocate the shoreline, questing in droves from their outposts in valleys and bluffs, as well as from the human realm.
Others include deities and keepers who had volunteered to rebuild The Archives’ most sacred dominion—The Hollow Chamber—after its destruction when Malice and Wonder trespassed there months ago.
Sorrow maintains a vigilant ear, tapping into plots and strategies. Maybe she can reach out to the crew with a message.
Wishful thinking. While she has sided with them, and although she’s been eavesdropping, The Court takes precautions to ban her from loitering near their most privy subjects. Some like Pride, Spite, and Grief give her a wide berth, whereas others keep a skeptical watch.
Apparently, a few outcasts from The Celestial City have had their banishments revoked, in exchange for their fealty.
Sorrow and her friends anticipated that might happen.
Merry had once pointed out the likely candidates, when they’d been in the human realm.
Therefore, Sorrow notes the presence of Cruelty, Fear, and Shock.
Technically, they have no claim to those titles anymore.
In the decades since their expulsions, many exiles have been replaced by new gods and goddesses, which means this army has double-booked some of the root emotions.
Nevertheless, the former outcasts keep their distance from those who’ve supplanted them.
Thankfully, Sorrow and her friends haven’t been ostracized long enough to be recreated. Except for maybe Malice, although Sorrow has never heard of another god such as he. Sometimes it takes a while to find the right star.
That’s not the only reality check. While pretending to exercise her bow at the coastline, Sorrow notices a pair of archers hugging, a goddess rustling the curls of a younger one, and another god singing a ditty to enliven his companions.
She spots the figures who had chased Sorrow’s crew. Among them is the pair who confiscated Love’s bow. The female wearing a jumpsuit and brandishing mercury archery is Delight, while the male in a cobalt mantle is Bliss.
Presently, they host a targeting game for a school of striplings. It’s the same children who startled Sorrow’s crew in the forest, minus the small male she’s encountered more than once now.