126. Violette
VIOLETTE
Light shines too bright from beneath my eyelids—where I was attempting to rest after finally having allowed myself to weep in a cleansing, cathartic purge of emotion.
I’m in the deepest cave I could find, where absolutely no light should reach, especially at this hour.
I peek open a single eye, prepared to fold away, expecting for some strange beast to reveal itself.
Instead, I find something that looks like an oddly large and soft amber will-o'-the-wisp.
Hello? I mentally probe.
The wisp flutters and undulates briefly before disappearing and reappearing a few feet away, towards the cave mouth. I straighten, eyes tracking as my hackles rise. It repeats the action before hovering in the entryway... waiting.
I roll my eyes, settling back into a more horizontal position.
Curiosity will not be my cause of death, thanks.
Still, I watch as it continues to hover. It vibrates and shudders with something like a sense of urgency before calming. When I don’t rise to its bait, it disappears.
I stare at the entrance, and after a few minutes, my lids grow heavy again.
Which is exactly when it reappears... holding something.
My eyes narrow on the large, round, disc-like–
Fucking gods, it’s a dinner plate.
The wisp releases it and backs away as though giving me room to retrieve it.
My eyes follow the plate’s descent–large black script decorates its porcelain surface.
I glare at the wisp.
Fine, but if you lead me to my death, I will haunt you.
Unease and annoyance heighten the tension in the muscles of my tail as I swim to snatch up the plate. The will-o'-the-wisp drifts closer, illuminating the text written on the face of the plate. If something were wrong, I can’t imagine Lazarus, Azrael, or Levi would notify me via tableware.
Still, I find myself peeking around the corner of the cave mouth to study Sinsól in the distance. From here, all seems well. If it weren’t for the gaping tunnel cutting into the top of Sinsól’s dome, one might even think the god of the sea hadn’t been murdered by his own daughter.
I should be ecstatic.
Rejoicing.
Yet, here I am.
Feeding the sea with my tears.
Finally my gaze falls back to the plate.
A single Atratusian word is written boldly across it.
Navus.
Boat.
Craning my neck backwards, I tilt my gaze towards the surface. Sure enough, I can make out the dim outline of a ship-shaped shadow blocking out the lunar light cast by Bellorum’s three moons.
I can feel their magic even from here—death magic, though it feels entirely different from Lazarus and Azrael’s, and another magic that reminds me of healing magic, but more.
Shock slackens my features when I realize who it is that’s waiting for me.
What in the hellish fuck?
With a powerful flick of my tail, I launch myself towards the surface—slowing just before I breach it. I sharpen my hearing, listening to try and take in the muffled voices coming from above...
A male. “Why would she be here, out in the middle of the sea?—”
A female snaps her reply. “My magic is never wrong. She’s here, I can feel her.”
A beat of silence before the male’s reply.
“Speak to me in that tone again, and I’ll fuck you on this poop deck.”
If I weren’t so anxious to discover why they’ve sought me out, I might laugh. But fear has me closing the distance and emerging from the water, up to my shoulders. As if the sea can sense my volatile emotions, the previous calm turns choppy.
The male peers over the railing of their brig-sized ship.
The male’s likeness to Somnus is startling. Outside of a few minor differences, this male smiles—a feat I’m not sure the brooding god of dreams and the subconscious can even manage.
Mors. His brother.
“Violette?”
My brows knit together, voice darkening with wariness and anxiety. “What’s happened?”
Footsteps follow and a moment later, Persephone peers over the railing. “Oh, thank fuck.”
Unwilling to waste another moment, I fold onto their ship in my syrith form.
And I can’t help but notice Persephone’s astonishing beauty featuring attributes completely different from my own—light hair and dark skin that radiates perfection.
Whatever jealousy might have burned bright and hot is crushed in an icy fist of fear.
“What’s happened?”
Neither Mors nor Persephone show any reaction to my nudity before I will a robe over my body. The two of them exchange an apprehensive look before returning their gaze to mine—ratcheting my anxiety higher. The wind whips my hair and rocks their boat.
“This might sound weird, but... there are two Azraels now, yes?”
My unease winds tighter. “Yes..."
I already know what she’s going to say.
The mere anticipation makes my throat feel like it’s closing.
Had been willfully ignoring all the signs.
And the deepening frown of concern on her face is confirmation.
“I’m sorry to show up so abruptly like this.
I just... Azrael told me—us—about you, and your soulbound.
Despite us no longer being soulbound, his power is, to put it reductively, connected to mine as its complete antithesis.
Like a see-saw, I can sense the opposite end of my power. How it has been split in two..."
The fleeting pause she takes as if searching for gentle words that I know are about to rip my heart out feels like a fucking eternity.
“I can feel that one of them is no longer immortal. That his life force is waning.” Her voice wobbles on the last word as emotion glitters in her eyes.
“I’m sorry to come to you like this; I just... I would want to know.”
I can’t breathe.
I can’t... breathe.
My hand grasps the rail of the boat as the waves threaten to toss us all overboard.
The crack of thunder causes Persephone to jolt and a frown to carve Mors’ face.
“Violette..."
I shake my head as my eyes, filled with a desperation like I’ve never known, lift to Persephone’s. The intensity of the wind increases to a howl over which I have to shout to be heard. “You’re the Goddess of life... You can fix him. Heal him... right? Surely..."
She hesitates, agony creasing her features. “If I could, I would... .”
Another crack of thunder, shortly followed by a streak of lightning.
The ship groans against the fury of the waves threatening to split it in twane—a mirror to the pain fissuring through me.
This can’t be happening.
We’ve only just united.
For the first time in my life, I’ve found happiness and already it's being torn away.
Mors hisses a curse and Persephone lets out a yelp as a tidal wave swells, tilting the ship until it’s nearly vertical as it’s drawn to the crest. The last thing I see before I fold away is Mors clutching Persephone to his chest and lifting them into the air by his gargantuan wings.