Chapter 25 Live
LIVE
EVANDER
As Evander crossed through the portal to the Underworld, Mona’s words echoed in his mind: Sometimes our souls long for something we cannot recognize until we find it. And Goddess, I hope you find it, Evander. I hope you find it soon.
Gods, he was so lost.
The air shimmered, and power cascaded over his body. In an instant, he had been transported from the desert cavern to the foggy expanse of the Underworld. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but once they did, he froze.
A crowd of demons stood in front of the portal, with Theo and Maleck in the front. Their eyes were anxious, their faces taut with apprehension.
Oh, shit.
They were waiting for their king and queen to return. For their beloved Lagos.
They were waiting for good news. Because gods knew they needed some.
“My lord,” Theo said breathlessly, wringing his hands together. He peered around Evander as if expecting more figures to follow after. When he realized it was only Evander, his face paled and his eyes went wide.
“All is well!” Evander said quickly, raising his hands.
“Prue and Mona have been rescued. They dwell with the fire witches in anticipation of the Titans’ retaliation.
They would have come here, but they feared drawing the Titans’ wrath to this realm.
For now, it looks like the battle will occur in the Realm of Gaia. ”
Whispers and gasps rippled over the crowd.
Maleck drew closer, his brows knitting together in concern. “And what of Lagos? Is he with them as well?”
Evander faltered. Oh, gods. He was the one who had to tell them. He couldn’t possibly… This was Cyrus’s responsibility.
He swallowed hard, suddenly feeling ill.
“My lord?” Maleck asked hesitantly.
Evander’s throat was so dry he couldn’t speak.
He had spent eons shepherding the souls of the river Cocytus, explaining to them that they were dead and had moved on to the next plane of existence.
He was accustomed to delivering bad news.
Some souls had wailed and shrieked like banshees.
Others had merely wept quietly. Some had been in utter denial and yelled in his face about how wrong he was.
A few had even laughed, assuming it was a joke or a dream.
So why did this feel so different, to deliver such news to the demons? Was it because they were alive, of flesh and blood, standing before him? Or was it because he actually knew them, and had known Lagos, too?
He drew in a breath and envisioned himself standing on the bank of Cocytus. In his mind, a soul had just arrived.
He immediately pictured Mona, but then shoved the thought away. Instead he pictured the soul he had encountered before her, an older man with wispy white hair.
“I am sorry,” Evander said gently. “But… Lagos was killed defending your queen. He knew the sacrifice he was making, and he made it bravely.”
More gasps filled the air, this time more hushed and full of horror. A few demons covered their mouths. Others’ eyes were full of tears.
“No,” Maleck whispered, pressing a hand to his chest. “No, it cannot be!”
“I—I am so terribly sorry,” Evander said, and he needed these demons to understand how much he meant it.
He had not known Lagos as well as Prue and Cyrus had, but he still felt that death acutely.
It was a loss that could have been prevented.
Perhaps if he had wielded his magic differently or conserved the ghost of Typhon, he could have been there in time to save Lagos.
Perhaps if he had managed to fell more Titans, like Atlas, then Lagos would not have died.
But what then? What if a Titan had gotten hold of Mona or Prue or Cyrus? The sisters were goddesses, but they were not invincible. Even a goddess could be killed.
And Cyrus… he was mortal now, as far as they knew. All Atlas would have had to do was twist his neck, just like he’d done to Lagos, and the King of the Underworld would be dead.
Something stirred in Evander’s chest at the thought, slithering and writhing and coiling like a serpent.
He didn’t like this feeling one bit, so he buried it deep before it consumed him.
Theo approached, tears streaming down his face. He took Evander’s hands in both of his and bowed deeply. “Thank you, my lord, for bringing us this news. I know it must have been difficult for you.”
That thing twisted in Evander’s chest again, cutting off his breath and rendering him incapable of speech.
Theo was thanking him for announcing his dear friend had died? This was so unexpected. Even in his years overseeing Cocytus, a soul had never thanked him for delivering the news of their death.
It was not glad tidings to be shared with others.
Evander finally found his breath, but it was shaky and uncontrollable. In a strained voice, he repeated, “I am… sorry.” He needed Theo to understand that Evander was not someone to be thanking right now. He was someone to yell and shout at. Someone to take out their frustrations and grief on.
But the demons did no such thing. Some embraced one another, sobbing. Others stood there, unmoving as they stared in the distance and processed the news. Maleck drew closer to Theo and wrapped his arm around him. All the while, Theo continued to hold Evander’s hands… as if he were comforting him.
In a flash, Evander yanked his hands free from Theo’s grasp. No. This wasn’t right. Evander did not deserve comfort or compassion. He was not worthy of any of this.
“I’m terribly sorry,” Evander said again. It seemed it was the only thing he knew how to say. “I… I must leave you now.”
His throat closed, cutting off any words. Even if he could speak, he wouldn’t know what to say.
All he knew was he had to leave this area immediately before the sight of these demons completely destroyed him.
As Evander approached the Undead Wilds, that feeling of eerie emptiness surrounded him. And, strangely, he felt more at ease. More at home.
How odd that this haunted place would feel like a comfort to him.
Something is very wrong with me, he thought.
Whispers and murmurs floated around him like a hissing breeze. A chill raced down his spine, and he suppressed a shudder.
“You have returned,” breathed a voice.
Evander froze, his feet coming to a halt on the ground. Leaves swirled in the air around him. He glanced around the trees, but no figures appeared.
Even so, they were there. He could sense them.
“Yes,” Evander said. “I have.”
A silvery form appeared before him—the same woman from before. Her long hair flowed down her back, the strands floating in the wind. “And were you successful?” she asked.
A lump formed in his throat as he thought of the demons’ grief over losing their friend. He could hardly call it a success when Lagos had lost his life.
“The goddesses were rescued,” Evander said. “Thank you for your help.”
The woman smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “It was not given freely. You owe us payment, death god.”
“I know. I am here to pay my debt. Just tell me what I must do.”
The woman tilted her head at him, her gaze sweeping over him slowly. “I am afraid the process is… unpleasant.” She didn’t sound at all unhappy about this; if anything, she sounded eager.
Unease rippled over Evander, but he could hardly turn away. He had agreed to this. “I understand.”
“Aren’t you curious? Don’t you want to know how painful it will be?” She seemed positively gleeful.
“It doesn’t matter. Whether it’s painful or not, it is inevitable. I cannot run from it.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Brave words, even for a death god. But they all try to run from it in the end.”
Evander’s brow furrowed. Who was she referring to?
Had other people made similar bargains with these souls?
Something tugged at Evander’s wrist. He yelped, turning to find one of the souls tying a thin cord around his arm. Another soul appeared and did the same thing to his other wrist.
“I—What—” Evander’s protests were cut off as the female soul shoved his chest hard enough to knock him flat on his back. The air whooshed from him, and pain split through the back of his skull.
The restraints on his wrists tightened. More cords were tied on his ankles. He shifted, trying to move, but the tethers must have been anchored into the ground. He was stuck.
“I… I offer myself willingly,” he insisted. “You don’t have to tie me down!”
The woman hovered over him, her pearly form translucent enough to reveal the canopy of trees behind her. “There is great need for this, death god. For when we bleed every drop of that precious god blood from your body, you will fight. And we can’t have that.”
Evander’s stomach hollowed. Every drop of blood….
Gods above, what had he gotten himself into?
“I don’t understand,” he whispered. “I thought—I thought you were just going to take my immortality.”
The woman smiled widely. “And how do you think we do that? Your immortality lives in that silver blood of yours. Once every drop is gone, your immortality will belong to us. This is how it’s done, death god. There is no other way.”
Evander was gasping for breath now, the panic rising in his chest with such strength that he thought he might faint.
A silver blade gleamed in the woman’s hand. It was slightly transparent, just like her body, but Evander had no doubt it could still cut his flesh. They had taken a drop of his blood before.
Now, they were going to take all of it.
The soul drew closer to him.
Gods no. Gods no.
From within him, a voice that had long since been silenced screamed out in rage and terror.
I want to live!
Over and over the voice shrieked, bellowing into the endless void, the chasm that had become his soul.
I want to live. I want to live. I want to live.
The words brought fire and life into his very being when there had been nothing but despair and emptiness.
He needed life. More than he needed Mona, more than he needed Typhon… He needed to live.
Evander roared with fury, thrashing against his restraints. The earth moved underneath him as his ghostly wings spread wide. Something snapped, and suddenly he could move his left wrist.
The woman gasped and drew back, her eyes wide and fixed on his wings.
With his free hand, Evander tugged at the cord on his other hand, fingers clawing.
Live, he ordered himself. You must live, Evander.
Shimmering forms swarmed around him as the other souls closed in, no doubt to stop him from escaping. He bared his teeth, fury and desperation fueling him. His heart raced and his blood thrummed. Never before had he felt so alive.
“Stop!” the woman screeched, raising her hand. Evander snarled at her, but then he realized… she wasn’t speaking to him.
She was speaking to the souls.
At the sight of her raised fist, the other spirits froze, creating a rippling crowd of silver in front of Evander, like an ethereal mist.
The woman was still staring at Evander’s wings, her mouth open in horror and shock. “Where—Where did you get those?”
Evander only bared his teeth at her. He was not about to sit and answer questions when they were planning to bleed him. His other hand was free now, and he was frantically undoing the knots at his ankles. Soon he’d be free. Soon…
“Answer me!” the woman screamed. Her shrill voice pierced the air, ringing against Evander’s ears. The note of terror in her voice was what made him freeze.
He slowly looked up at her, his teeth still bared and his body still rigid. “They once belonged to the demon inside me.”
She uttered a hollow, trembling gasp. Evander stiffened, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized the spirit. One hand was covering her mouth, and her shoulders were shaking.
“His name,” she sobbed. “Tell me this demon’s name. Please.”
Unease spread through Evander’s chest. The fire from before still raged, desperate for release. His blood thrummed with the need to destroy, to fight his way to survival. He couldn’t convince his mind or his body that the threat was gone.
But… something was off. Something had happened, and his muddled mind was struggling to keep up.
“Typhon,” he said at last. “The demon’s name was Typhon.”
The woman sank to her knees and released a keening wail, like the mournful howl of a wolf. Behind her, the other spirits cried out, echoing the sound of her grief.
Evander tried to scramble backward, alarmed at this reaction, but his ankles were still tied down. He wrenched the cords free, his fingers shaking. When they were loose, he looked up and found the woman’s tear-stained face mere inches from his.
With a yelp, he fell backward, shuffling away from her.
“Stay back,” he warned, though what could he do against these spirits? They were already dead.
Then the woman’s fingers met the talon of his left wing, and he went perfectly still. He could… feel her touch. It was as warm and solid as if she stood before him in the flesh.
His mouth fell open, his blood chilling as he stared at her, uncomprehending.”What…” He couldn’t even form the question. “I—I don’t understand.”
“Typhon was one of us,” the woman whispered. “He was once a Wild Spirit. And he has been missing for a millennia.”