Observing this memory once again, I realize that my plan is to annoy the hell out of the gods until they tell me the way to return to the mortal world for good. They’re set on me staying, which is a big no. I’m currently compiling a long list of ideas to irritate them in my head.
Syntyche says nothing. A few more moments tick by.
It’s official. We’re the worst at conversing.
“My sister is inordinately proud of her golden armor,” the goddess muses suddenly. “It was a gift from our brother before he left the pantheon and took up permanent residence in the Beyond.”
I stare at her, confused.
“If something were to happen to that armor, it would invite Arati’s considerable temper. Finding where she keeps it should be an easy task for you.”
She’s clearly guessed that I plan to annoy the gods, but…
“You're helping me?” I ask.
“You’re surprised.”
“More like skeptical. Let’s not pretend like you’ve done me any favors in the past.”
Syntyche considers that, twisting her scythe to examine the etherium blade. “Gods cannot see into the Nether, so I did not observe you grow up. You needed no coddling by the time you emerged into the mortal world, but perhaps my aid could benefit you now. Beginning with inciting the wrath of my sister to learn the one way to expunge your soul from this plane of existence so that you may fall from Paradise and reunite with the clingy male mortals you are so partial to.”
She summed that up nicely.
I squint at her. “Is this what they call…mother-daughter bonding?”
“Let us call it anything but that.”
“Then we're on the same page.” I pause. “Can’t you just tell me how to return?”
“Only one immortal being has ever successfully become mortal to live in the mortal realm, eons ago. Arati helped him learn a way to mortality, but she guards that secret carefully. Convincing her will be difficult.”
Difficulthas never stopped me before, and it means nothing to me now that my quintet is on the line. I look out over a seemingly endless sea of clouds, my scarred, emblem-less chest aching.
“Galene hinted that there may be a way I can watch over the mortal realm from here. A way to see my quintet.”
“It is possible, depending on what gifts you inherited from me.”
I look at her, determined. “Tell me.”
The memory shifts and changes, and for a moment, I can’t understand what I’m looking at. It’s a view of gliding over a grayscale landscape high above. Wintry wind batters me on one side.
After several moments, I realize I’m seeing the world through the point of view of a bird.
Not just any bird. A raven.
The raven finally perches on a ruined temple in an abandoned, sprawling city. The massive temple is overwhelmingly ornate and magnificent, with fire symbols worked elegantly into the architecture now encrusted with ice.
This is unmistakably one of Arati’s temples, but like the rest of the city, it’s sapped of color and abandoned.
At first, I can’t tell why the raven is showing me this. Then it slips through a broken window near flying buttresses and hopsforward to peek down into the temple. It’s dark and empty—except for a leather-jacket-clad figure lying motionless at the foot of the altar.
Crypt.
With the raven’s sharp vision, I can make out concentric circles of intricate dark runes circling my Nightmare Prince. Layers and layers of magic have entangled him in a brutal malediction as he lies still, his eyes shut as his chest rises and falls slightly.
It’s almost like he’s sleeping.
But he can’t sleep.
