I startle when a strange current runs into my hand from the scythe just before a burst of images and words sweeps through me. Dancing constellations, liquid gold dripping from my fingertips, glossy black feathers and beady eyes, an endless sea of clouds—and then another woman’s powerful, angry voice.
“There is no use crying over spilled ambrosia. You are a goddess now, Maven. You belong in Paradise—youearnedyour place here. Your future is final, so stop fighting it and learn to be happy. You will thank me in a few millennia when you’ve forgotten your mortal life and everyone you knew therein.”
More flickers of vague memories, and then Pia—no, Galene’s gentle voice.
“If you had matured into your true nature, instead of being corrupted into a revenant, your inherited abilities would have manifested as you neared adulthood. However, if you pursue this path–”
“You see the future. Tell me what will happen,”my own voice echoes.
“I cannot, for the future is ever-changing until it comes to pass. If you are determined to attempt reversing apotheosis, I see many possibilities…but the foremost possibility is your final demise. Is not Paradise better than facing the Beyond, my fearless one?”
She sounds sad, almost pleading, but my voice remains firm.
“For shits and giggles, let’s say I do survive. Will I still be a revenant?”
“No. That dark magic corrupting you would never withstand Paradise, so it must be gone. If you survive this brutal pursuit, you will return as a half mortal, as you were born to be. The blood of a goddess will run through you, and with it, your true abilities and holy magic. But without a heart, you cannot end the suffering of…”
Her voice fades before I suddenly remember free-falling—plummeting from the heavens, careening out of control as agony pumped through my veins just before I blacked out.
I jolt back to myself, bracing against the broken altar as I try to catch my breath, my pulse pounding in my veins. No matter how hard I struggle to remember more, I can’t. It’s infuriating to have this glaring gap in my brain. I obviously fell from the heavens to crash here, but I don't even know where here is.
I do know where I’m going, though. I need to find my guys. It won’t be easy, with our bonds broken?—
Oh, fuck.
Fuck.
Our bonds broke. That means their curses would have returned worse than before.
Damn it, how long was I gone?
Straightening, I take in the temple once again, finally registering the freakish cold and the dismembered husks of worshippers who seem to have turned on each other. Reaching up, I feel the left side of my neck. Even though my emblems are gone with the bond, I can still feel the slight divots of the mating mark Baelfire left on me.
It’s comforting, but it only reinforces my need to track down my quintet as soon as possible.
First things first, though. I need to find some actual fucking clothes before my fingers and toes snap off. Trying to ignore the pervasive chill and the agonizing soreness in my limbs, I again grip the scythe—which promptly morphs into a dagger.
It's almost a twin to Pierce, but the blade is etherium instead of adamantine.
I grin, tilting my new toy from side to side to admire it better. “Not bad, Mother.”
At least in this size, it will be easier to stash, sort of like Crypt’s enchanted lighter sword. The thought of my incubus makes my smile disappear before I turn to stalk between the pews, stepping over frozen husks. I pause as I’m stepping over someone who died wrapped in a thick, fluffy black shawl.
I mean…it’s not like they’re using it.
Or their shoes, which seem almost my size.
A few minutes later, dressed slightly warmer, I manage to break through the ice and force open one of the tall double doors of Syntyche’s abandoned temple to slip outside. It’s difficult to make out the landscape through all this hazy snow and the wind biting through this shawl, but a low, throaty squawk pulls my attention.
A raven is perched on a broken statue of Syntyche nearby, and it's not alone. Other large black ravens have gathered outside the temple despite the freezing temperature, and they're all staring right at me.
Yet somehow, it doesn't feel malicious.
Instead, it's the best kind of unsettling. It almost feels like these glossy-feathered, beady-eyed creatures are…waiting.
On me.
Gods, I hope I'm not about to feel stupid for trying this. I wrap the shawl tighter around myself and clear my throat.
