Song
EVANDER
Relief coursed through Evander when he heard Cyrus’s frantic voice calling for him. And when his brother was lucid enough to taunt him, that gave Evander hope that perhaps they could both survive this.
Until a harpy, who had somehow survived Cyrus’s lightning storm, appeared out of nowhere, tackling Cyrus to the ground.
Evander screamed his name, trying to rise. During the attack, one of the harpies had sliced into Evander’s upper thigh, which was bleeding far too quickly. Silver blood gushed and flowed, and when he attempted to stand, it only worsened. He was losing too much blood.
The sound of ripping flesh echoed, mingling with the harpies shrill shrieks.
It was killing Cyrus. It would tear him apart.
“Move, dammit!” Evander growled at himself. He hastily tore a scrap of fabric, then wrapped it as tightly as he could just below the wound in his thigh. The flow of blood slowed, which was all he needed. He stood again, leg wobbling, then hurried over to Cyrus as quickly as he could.
Before he could reach him, a burst of rose gold light appeared. It was more blinding than Cyrus’s lightning. The glistening aura swept through the sky, sending creatures flying and screaming. Their bodies sank to the earth all around Evander with heavy thunks.
A deep bellow resonated from the abyss. Anguished cries echoed.
Evander once more buried his face, trying to avoid getting disintegrated like the other creatures. But, somehow, this light did not harm him.
Somehow, the power knew Evander was not its enemy.
“Mona,” Evander whispered, closing his eyes as his chest warmed. She had done it. She had unlocked her powers.
The earth trembled. The burning light intensified. Evander’s bones rattled as the air pulsed with power. Too much power.
Something vibrated around Evander. His ears prickled, and his skin pebbled. It was a more potent magic than he had ever experienced in all his life. It felt as if the very earth were being cleansed and reborn. The fabric of the universe was being rewritten.
Evander couldn’t breathe. The air was too thin. He swallowed hard, trying to suck in gulps of air, but his lungs were straining.
Just when black spots appeared in his vision and he thought he would lose consciousness, the powerful magic faded. The air stilled once more, and, hesitantly, Evander peered around his hands to survey his surroundings.
Dead hellhounds had fallen alongside the harpies, leaving a broken battlefield of corpses. The harpy that had attacked Cyrus also lay dead.
“Oh, gods,” Evander whispered, hurrying to Cyrus’s side. He sank to a crouch to inspect the damage. There was blood everywhere. Cyrus’s face looked like bloody ribbons. A massive, gaping hole had replaced his left eye. It looked as if the harpy had eaten it.
Bile churned in Evander’s gut, but he swallowed down his unease and checked for a heartbeat. He held his breath, praying, begging for that pulse.
And there it was. But it was faint.
Cyrus was certainly dying. The power of the Triple Goddess might have spared him, but it hadn’t healed him.
Evander searched the skies, wondering if Typhon was still here. But even if he was, what could he do?
Mona, he thought. Mona can heal him.
But where was she?
“Help!” Evander bellowed, not caring who heard him. If any creature survived, they might hunt him down. But this was too important. Cyrus was too important. “Someone help me!”
Hurried footsteps approached, and Evander stiffened. Was this a friend or a foe?
Several shapes took form, and only then did Evander realize it wasn’t one person answering his call—it was many.
Unease wriggled through him. In his condition, he couldn’t fight off multiple assailants and keep his brother alive.
Through the fog, two women appeared. One of them had Mona’s exact shade of raven hair. She also had the same almond-shaped eyes and stubborn chin.
This had to be Gaia.
Evander went rigid, unsure of how to react to the presence of the earth goddess. He knew Mona had a very strained relationship with her mother.
But… this was far better than facing a Titan or a harpy.
“Please,” Evander begged, gesturing to Cyrus. “Can you save him?”
Behind Gaia, another woman appeared. Evander glanced over her briefly before he recognized the dark hair and emerald eyes.
Marina. She, too, was a healer. Surely together, these two goddesses could heal Cyrus.
Gaia knelt by Evander’s side, her brow furrowing as she looked over Cyrus’s shredded form.
“Please,” Evander whispered again. Tears burned in his eyes. Gods above, he couldn’t lose Cyrus. He couldn’t.
Gaia pressed a hand into Cyrus’s chest, then closed her eyes. A faint hum pulsed in the air.
“His wounds are severe,” she murmured. “But… he is still tethered to this world. His connection to Prudence is holding him here.”
A knot formed in Evander’s throat. “Can you save him?”
Gaia’s brow furrowed, her lips forming a thin line. “I—I cannot heal everything. But I will try. Marina, can you assist me?”
Marina obediently joined Gaia’s side, her hands emitting an amber glow as she placed them on top of Gaia’s. Together, the two witches began chanting in another language. A brilliant white glow engulfed Cyrus’s form, and for the third time, Evander shielded his eyes.
After a long moment, the light faded, and Cyrus was no longer covered in blood.
But his eye was still missing.
Evander stared hard at the sight of his brother, still unconscious, but no longer wounded. “His eye,” Evander whispered.
Gaia withdrew her hands, then smoothed them on her skirts. “I am sorry. I cannot repair it.”
Despair filled Evander’s chest, but he nodded. Cyrus was alive. That was what mattered.
But he knew in his bones that Cyrus would wake up despising himself.
“Thank you,” Evander said in a strained voice. “Both of you.” He nodded to each of the goddesses in turn, then frowned. “Are you both all right? The fire witches? Romanos?”
Marina sighed heavily. “Most of the fire witches died in battle. But Romanos still lives. He took down Prometheus himself.” Her mouth twitched in the ghost of a smile, but her eyes were haunted. She, too, had seen much death today.
Evander looked at Gaia. “And… Mona?”
Gaia’s smile was triumphant. “You saw her magic, I’m sure. She did what she was born to do.”
“So, she’s all right?”
Gaia’s expression dimmed. “I—I do not know. But I can sense the Titans are dead. She has succeeded.”
This should have come as a relief to Evander. But it didn’t. He hated himself for thinking it, but he would rather let the Titans live than sacrifice Mona’s life.
Evander woke with a splitting headache. He groaned, turning over in his cot and blinking in the darkness. Where was he?
He recalled the battle with the Titans, and Marina and Gaia healing Cyrus. He had helped sift through the wreckage and corpses, trying to find those who were injured and still alive.
So many had perished.
He blinked, his brain foggy from sleep and his heart heavy with grief. As his eyes adjusted, he sat up slowly. A faint light filtered in through a gap in the ceiling.
A cavern. He was in the fire witch caves. At some point, he had collapsed from his injuries and been brought here to rest.
He turned, then let out a sharp gasp. Mona.
Evander lunged for her, tripping over his cot and sending it toppling. But he didn’t care. Mona rested in a cot directly next to him, her eyes closed and her expression peaceful. He took her hand in his, then froze.
Her hand was cold. Ice cold.
“Mona?” Evander whispered, shaking her arm.
She didn’t move.
“Mona!” Evander shouted.
Still nothing.
No, no, no. She wasn’t dead. This couldn’t be…
Frantic footsteps pounded nearby, and a figure appeared at the mouth of the cave. It was Prue, her curly hair wild and disheveled. Her eyes were red-rimmed, as if she’d been crying. “Is she awake?”
“No,” Evander said with a frustrated growl. “Prue, what’s happened? Why is she like this?”
“She—She held on to the power of the Triple Goddess for too long.” Prue’s voice was broken by sobs. “She should have let go sooner. But she forced Trivia and me to leave first, before it destroyed us. And she—she—”
Evander’s chest shuddered, and he let out a low, anguished groan. “Gods dammit, Mona.” He slammed his fist into the hard ground, not caring when pain sliced through him, making his knuckles bleed.
It was just like Mona to sacrifice herself so others could live. She had done it countless times. It had even killed her once.
And now, it seemed, it had killed her a second time.
Anguish choked Evander, cutting off his breaths. His stomach twisted. His chest caved inward. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t function.
Not Mona. Please, not Mona.
He hunched over, his body breaking down. He couldn’t see or hear anything. Only his rasping breaths. Only his shattered heart.
Not Mona. She cannot die. Please.
A warm hand pressed into his shoulder, and his head snapped up. For a moment, he thought it was her, touching his arm, reassuring him she was here and alive.
But it was only Prue, her face streaming with tears.
Evander almost snarled at her to leave. This was her fault. If she had only held on longer…
But no. No good would come from such thoughts. Evander knew this. And he was too tired for rage. He had no strength for it.
“She isn’t dead, Evander,” Prue said softly. “But… we can’t get her to wake. Gaia and I have tried everything.” She took a shaky breath. “Gaia believes only you can bring her back. Just as you did before, in the Underworld.”
Evander frowned. It took him a moment to realize Prue was talking about after Mona had died. Her soul had been disconnected from her body, and Evander had found a way to merge them together again.
Through the song of her soul.
Evander scooted closer to Mona, daring to hope that this could work.
Still clutching her cool hand in his, he began to sing.
His voice was hoarse and trembling, but he didn’t care.
He sang the melody of her soul, the string of notes that was both haunting and beautiful, lovely and tragic. The song of Mona.
Their shared song.
He sang louder, his voice gaining strength. The tune floated through the caves, echoing against the walls. And still he sang. Even when his throat was raw and parched, he continued. He gripped her hand more tightly, drawing it to his chest and willing her to answer his call.
He could have sworn one of her fingers twitched. For a moment, it seemed like her hand had warmed, as if the life had returned to her.
But she was still unmoving.
Evander’s voice died as he let the melody trail off into nothingness. He drew closer to Mona, a tear sliding down his cheek.
He leaned in to press a kiss to her soft lips…
And her eyes flew open.
Evander’s heart slammed against his rib cage as he drew back only a breath, wondering if he’d imagined it.
Then, she gasped. Her chest rose and fell, and she made a choked gagging sound as if something was lodged in her throat. There was something… different about her.
But Evander didn’t care. The tears spilled more freely from his eyes as he found himself laughing with relief. “Mona,” he breathed.
A smile lit her face, and she sat up, her arms coming around him to pull him closer. She smelled the same—like seawater and parchment. Mona.
She was here. She was alive.
Prue joined them, sobbing and laughing as well, muttering a string of curses for what Mona had done to her. For several long moments, the three of them held each other, each of them weeping but smiling, clinging to one another to treasure this moment.
When they withdrew, Mona blinked tears from her own eyes, and then Evander realized what was different.
Her eyes. They were no longer the gleaming emerald he was accustomed to.
They were hazel. They had flecks of gold and green in them, but nothing as vibrant as before.
Evander frowned. The only time he had seen someone’s eyes change like that had been…
“Goddess above.” Prue raised a shaking hand to her mouth as she discovered the same thing. “Mona… you’re mortal.”