I thought Arin had taken care of the final Fate, but I was wrong. One of her wings hangs lopsided from her back—broken. That must explain why she travels on foot.
I glance around, but she is alone. The last of Eurus’ competitors, if I am not mistaken, now that Arin is dead.
I open my mouth, but the goddess snaps her wrist, and the whip coils around my neck, the cool leather an unexpected bite against my skin. “Uh-uh.” A firm tug cuts off my air supply. “Not a sound. Understand?”
The pressure migrates to my eyes. It is too much. I nod desperately, relieved when the whip loosens long enough to allow me to draw breath.
“Here is what we’re going to do,” says the Fate. “Eurus is all that stands between me and victory, and I intend to walk through that door. You’re going to call for him. You will mention nothing of my presence.” Her eyes sit like holes in her face, full of untold horrors. “If you cooperate, I promise not to kill you. Once Eurus is dead and the door appears, you are free to walk through it. Agreed?”
I cannot deny my heart. It yearns for the East Wind in all ways, but… I want to live. Is that so bad a thing?
Mutely, I nod. The whip uncoils from my throat.
“Eurus!” It takes every effort to lace my tone with enthusiasm. “Eurus, this way!” My cry ripples out, a joyous declaration.
“Bird?”
“Over here!” My voice cracks.
The Fate cants her head. Clouds drift across her eyes, which blur in confusion. Suddenly, she bolts in the opposite direction. I watch her departure with unease. Something has changed.
“Bird!” Eurus calls.
“I’m here!” I scream. Pushing to my feet, I sway, catching myself against a tree.
Then it comes, a bottomless echo, straight from the belly of the beast.
My pulse crests, for it is a sound most familiar, and it soaks St. Laurent in its ominous roar daily: the surge of a great, powerful wave.
My head snaps in the direction of the low rumble. Birds scatter with shrieks of warning, and the earth trembles underfoot.
The East Wind appears, stumbling through the thicket, eyes ringed white with fear. “Min, climb!”
He catches me around the waist, shoving me up the tree, one hand planted on my backside. It jolts me into motion. My fingers latch around the lowest branch. From there, I scramble up, reaching for the next handhold as a deafening eruption engulfs us.
Curling my fingers around the bark, I glance down. Eurus leans against the trunk, noticeably frail.
“Keep going,” he barks. “Don’t worry about me.”
I haul myself higher into the tree, then higher still.Don’t look down.If there is one rule of survival, let it be that. Despite his waning strength, Eurus manages to pull himself amongst the boughs.
The ground rocks, and I clutch the trunk with bitten fingertips, whimpering. From this vantage point, I see the whole of the surrounding wood, its leafy crown grazed by a gentle wind. But amidst thetranquility, something stirs. There, in the distance, a great wave breaches the horizon, barreling forward in a gnashing of white foam.
Up to the next branch, a thick creaking of wood. As I scramble higher, my foot slips, the skin of my palms stinging as I clutch the bough above me until I regain my footing.
When I look back down, however, the East Wind remains slumped on the lowest branch, face gray with exhaustion. “Eurus!”
“I’ll be all right, bird.” He gulps for air, his back pressed against the trunk. Sweat slides down his face.
He’s too weak, I realize. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the tree begin to give way. “I’ll come help.”
“No!” As he inhales shakily, his dulled eyes meet mine. “Keep climbing.”
And leave him to drown?
There is no victory without the East Wind, no triumph unless it is he and I, together. The flood nears, yet I will face it, as I have faced each obstacle that came before.
Carefully, I descend to the branch above Eurus. Trees snap and shatter in the wake of the water’s force. “Grab my hand.”
