Chapter 40
Sorrow
The sky collapses. As the constellations break apart, they plummet like comets. Great globes of burning light arc from the canopy, spearing the universe in white blasts. Thousands of heads tilt, a sea of faces awestricken by the spectacle.
Sorrow follows the celestials’ trajectory. Memories string together, freezing her in place.
Grenades whistle above mortal soldiers. Mine fields detonate with smoke. Bodies lay tangled in barbed wire.
Except this isn’t the human realm. These aren’t grenades. And they don’t whistle.
The stars sizzle, the crackles growing louder as they cannon toward the cliffs. Though both are almighty, celestials in The Dark Fates are infinitely smaller than those of the human realm. However, the former possesses a greater radiance.
The tumult is mesmerizing and so magnificent, it takes her seconds to remember. Anything that falls will eventually land.
With the first crash, the ground ruptures. The single star punches the earth, throwing lambent shards across the summit. Embers sizzle, roasting whatever it touches, blistering or torching deities who fail to escape.
The impact ejects Sorrow off her feet. She soars thirty feet and hits the grass with a cry. Her body slams into the ground, molars jostling in her skull.
Batting hair out of her face, she glimpses an incoming meteor shower. The constellations rain down, nosediving from the firmament. Deities roll across the range while others leap sideways, dodging the maelstrom. Some deities tumble over the grass, and others sprint to evade the turbulence.
Celestials spear through the air, drive their ancient fists into the cliffs, and splinter into fragments. Every descent quakes the landscape. Sorrow struggles and fails to rise, then tosses her head this way and that, scanning the panorama.
Where is Envy? Where are her friends? What about Echo and Siren?
Sorrow crawls across the blood-stained grass, scurrying past corpses leaking crimson or baked to a crisp by the Stars. Visibility wanes, flashes of light distorting her vision. Against the glare, she can’t tell if the fortification still stands or if it’s been blown to smithereens.
Yelling everywhere. So much yelling.
Sorrow pats her vacant chest. She’d lost a grip on her weapons. The longbow, quiver, and arrows lay scattered across the earth like detritus. Scrambling on all fours, she reaches for her bow, then launches backward from the crash of a nearby star.
Ramming onto her back, her bones rattle. She skids across the dirt, pain tearing the flesh of her arm, spots bursting behind her eyelids.
A distant voice bellows… her name. The source is calling her name.
Dazed, Sorrow flops over. She shakes the disorientation from her mind, anxiety streaking through her veins.
Someone is roaring for her. Someone is terrified for her.
That someone is a male.
The bluff vibrates, rippling as Sorrow hauls herself to a sitting position. Again, she scours the vista. This time, she scours through the divide, her gaze plowing into a set of panicked eyes.
There he is, alone. The Stars have thrust him to the ground, where he teeters upright on his knees, his hair a black banner whipping in the wind, his chest bare and littered with contusions.
He’s alive. He’s alive and in one piece.
Envy’s haggard features lock with hers, relief wiping clear the remnant signs of fright. Sorrow understands that relief, which floods her as well.
That, and another emotion. One of numerous dimensions, forged by a million sights, sounds, tastes, scents, and textures. It’s the same emotion reflected in his pupils, blessedly accessible from her vantage point. Moreover, it’s tangible enough to blot out the chaos.
Balanced on their haunches, they stare at each other. Just like that, she knows what this is. And he must know, because his visage blanches.
This is what the legend spoke of. This is the myth’s truth. This is imperfect, sentimental, vulnerable, empowering.
This is love.
The ruler’s earlier words return to Sorrow. Then convince us.
Fine, because she’s not about to sit on her ass and let the celestials flatten her to a pulp or incinerate her flesh. Not when there’s so much to live for.
Lights spark around Sorrow and Envy like deadly firecrackers, the onslaught of constellations flaring. They swap gazes, and when he gives her a repentant grin, she mirrors it with a lopsided one of her own.
They run.
Barreling toward each other, they pump their arms. Oxygen saws through her lungs, and pain throbs in her joints, but she doesn’t care.
Her boots pound across the summit, bounding to the left, then jetting to the right as she sidesteps falling debris.
Although the mountain rattles off its hinges, she keeps steady on her feet, desperate to grab him, to be held.
The lake is the final boundary, its surface reflecting a universe of falling stars. Sorrow and Envy dive. They plunge, come up for air, and crank their limbs.
They swim, and swim, and swim. Over the last few leagues, the water gets shallower rather than deeper. Submerged only to their waists, they’re able to stand upright. Drenched, they stagger across the final stretch.
“Envy!” she screams.
“Sorrow!” he shouts back.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!”
“I know. I’m sorry too—”
“I didn’t mean it. I would never hurt—”
“Fuck it all, I know!”
“I love you!” Sorrow cries.
That, Envy hadn’t known. He really hadn’t because he stumbles, slipping on the words and almost going down like a redwood tree.
Getting a second wind, Envy charges. In the lake’s center, they collide like asteroids. Sorrow flings herself at his naked torso, and he catches her with a growl, his arms crushing the nymph against him. Throwing their weight into each other, they’re a clinging, trembling mess.
Celestials shower around them, fracturing the cliffs and hammering the water. This could be it. Exposed like this, they’re clear targets.
But at least they’ve made one choice. At least they’ve chosen this before it was too late.
Wrenching back, Envy hisses. Then he grabs the back of Sorrow’s head and slams his mouth to hers.
A cry leaps from her throat, her lips clutching his own, her fingers burying into his mane, drawing him down on her.
His tongue spears past the cleft of her mouth, tasting and stroking, every flex wrought with terror and relief.
The world blurs. The strength of Envy’s mouth drowns out every pulsating light and ear-splitting noise. While the earth shakes, they hurl themselves into the kiss, tongues fusing, lips rocking together.
Prying himself away, Envy grits against her lips. “It’s always been you,” he vows, his baritone louder than the cacophony around them. Grasping her face, he shakes his head, ferocity setting fire to his words. “I would race into a fucking volcano for you.”
Sorrow lets out a dry sob. “You too.”
Bowing their heads into one another, they hold tight. And moments later, more sets of arms sling around them, expanding the circle.
Love. Andrew.
Anger. Merry.
Wonder. Malice.
Tears prickle Sorrow’s eyes. As one, their crew forms a sphere of burning light—their own star. They wait, and wait, and wait.
The quaking ceases. The clamor quiets.
And The Stars stop falling.