And before Selene could protest—before she could grip them, and pull them with her, Nyx was pushing her out of the door, and Celeste was turning to face the men that flooded into the kitchen.
They slammed the door behind her. The heavy bolt sounded, as Selene threw herself against the heavy wood, smacking her palms against it and sending an echo of pain up her arms.
No.
Her breathing ragged, she staggered away, staring at the door as if it might somehow open again, as if they might reappear. Nyx smiling slyly at the prank, Celeste prim and disapproving even as her eyes danced with amusement.
But the door did not open.
They had lied to her—had always lied to her. They knew her fate, had spent years waiting for this—whatever this was.
And Nyx and Celeste had lied again, she knew.
For she knew with a grief that threatened to overwhelm her that they would not meet again.
Because the door was still closed, and they had stayed on the other side.
Seconds passed. Her heart pounded in her ears, her throat threatening to close as she struggled to draw breath.
Stop for no-one. Do not pause. Run. As fast as you can.
They had given—she could not think of what they had given. Of those lines of faeytes, of herfamily, waiting quietly in front of the doors for a fate they had known was coming.
“We do not run from fate,” she whispered to herself. Trying to summon just an ounce of courage to face whatever was coming. “We do not run.”
She thought of the Maiden, and the Crone. Hala’s priestesses, who stood tall and took their place in the line.
For her.
She had to run.
Her chest ached as she spun—
Breath caught in her chest, trapped, choking.
There, at the edge of the garden Devi had tended like a beloved child, stood two Caelumnai.
Although they did not look like any of the travelers she had ever seen. They looked likecreatures, oddly shaped silver metal plates covering them entirely. Only their eyes were visible.
But the swords at their sides—she had seen weapons like that before, once. The clean, shining steel gleamed in the bright, cold sunshine, dancing in her line of sight and leaving dark spots behind that she blinked away as she raised her arms.
Hala had not gifted her. Perhaps never would. Her Ascension was in ruins. Buttheywould not know that. They didn’t know what maegis she might have, what her Calling might be.
She braced herself, her chin lifting, and faced them.
She would fight. For Nyx. For Celeste. For what they had given, the knowledge hovering in the corner of her mind like the dark phantoms that lingered on the edges of her dreams.
One stepped forward. His hand rested on the pommel of his sword as he stared at her. His eyes gleamed like the metal hewore, all of it blending together to give the illusion of somethingother. Not flesh and blood, but something else entirely.
She stared back.
Run, they had said.
They had given everything for this. And she would not—could not—think on it too deeply, or she would fall, and she would not get up again.
She would not fail them.
The second soldier; shorter, wider, stepped forward. His hand reached up, but he placed it on the first soldier’s arm. His head shook back and forth.
