“Yes, meaning?” Jo was more than ready for Pan to arrive at her point, practically clenching her teeth to keep herself from demanding that she do.
“Meaning we are losing our power with every day that goes by.”
“What?” Jo blurted the word. But she didn’t know if it was more directed at Pan, or the room they now stood in.
It was a mirror image of the first sitting room they had walked through—mirror, literally. The ornate sofa Jo remembered being to the right, was on the left. The tapestry looked as though it had been flipped. Even the rug was oriented in the opposite way. Instinctively, Jo looked to the door across from her—were she standing from that vantage, the room would look as it had.
Or perhaps it was all in her head.
“I know, what a pity, don’t you think? It makes one wonder what Snow’s plan was when he ended the first Age of Gods. Would he have split himself, stored his magic, and joined you as a mortal? Or would he have joinedwithyou, Creation and Destruction, to form a perfect god, strong enough to withstand and change the age around them back to one of gods? I’m not sure if he could do that, but maybe he would’ve tried?”
There was a long silence, long enough that Jo realized she was waiting for response. “I don’t know.”
“He didn’t tell you?” Pan exclaimed with a whine. “He won’t tell me either. I’ve asked him.”
Pan led them through yet another door and up yet another staircase. At the top of the staircase there was a door again. Jo could feel herself getting dizzy from each transition, all of the doors and hallways starting to blend together, looking the same. Especially when, through another, Jo was faced with the same, near-identical sitting room.
“Either way, this is not a place—an Age—for demigods like us.”
“You seemed to have no trouble existing in the Society.”
“Of course we didn’t—it was a place outside of time, our own little safe haven to wait for you. And you, you were born mortal, separated from your powers and immune.” Pan paused, half-stepped in front of Jo, and raised up a hand to give her a condescending little pat on her cheek. “The Society was a reality without ages, fed by the power of destroyed worlds. But here we are now.”
“So you’re saying that even as demigods we will eventually—“
“Die,” Pan finished for her. “Not really godly, is it?” She stopped in front of the tapestry in the sitting room, pulling it aside to reveal a mirror. Then, with a mighty squeal, Pan pulled open the mirror to reveal yet another hallway lit by the same green orbs. She stopped, mid-track, raising her hand to her chin in thought. “And you’ll die faster. But it’ll still take a while, long enough to have some fun.”
“Why would I die faster?” If Pan was trying to confuse her both physically and mentally, she was succeeding.
“You see, after we ended up in this age, I decided not to make another Society. It was an interesting experience, but not something I would want to do again. It took far too long, and I think this route will be much more effective in convincing you to join me—or, doing it by force when you become weak enough.”
Jo kept her mouth shut, following behind Pan on blind faith that they would eventually end up where Snow was.
“But I did manage to pull Creation into another little bubble of mine.”
Jo stopped, her heart suddenly in her throat. “What did you do to him?” she whispered.
“Nothing major,” came the no doubt false assurance. “I just tethered our magics together. Oh, goodness, I can see you don’t understand. . . How should I put it?”
As Pan thought, Jo felt the rising need to punch her. It took everything she had to keep both hands, clenched and white-knuckled, at her sides.
“You see, Snow, as Creation, can continue sustaining these bodies of ours. If it were just him, he might even be able to survive off his own magic in this world. But sustaining two demigods. . .” Pan pointed to herself and then held up two fingers. “I don’t think it will be enough. But maybe it will! I think, though, that eventually, both of us will die as well, just muchmuchslower than you.”
Jo was seeing red. She took a deep breath through her nose, and let it out through her mouth, trying to calm herself down. There was one sliver of hope here, Jo tried to reason: the knowledge that even if Jo was killed after joining with Pan, Snow would manage to live on.
“Don’t look so upset.” Pan motioned for Jo to follow again, and begrudgingly, Jo did. “I have a solution for you.” Jo knew it was coming before Pan said it. “Join with me. If you do, then as a full-fledged god, we should be impervious to the fact that our structure was not meant for this world. And if I’m wrong in that, we’ll just destroy it.”
Jo opened her mouth to speak, but Pan cut her off with a small smile and a single finger pressed against her lips.
“I wasn’t done,” she said, almost tenderly. “Because I want you to know that if this is what you choose, we can let Snow live. We both get what we want: I get our ancient power once more. And you get the demigod you claim to love.”
Jo’s world went still. It almost sounded like a good option. For the briefest of moments, and against her behest, Jo’s mind actually considered it. Could she live as Oblivion? What if she could control Pan’s urges and not destroy everything in the process?
“Don’t answer now,” Pan said with a knowing smile. “Because now, I’ll give you to your Snow. As a gesture of good faith.”
She motioned to the door at their side. Jo hadn’t even realized they’d stopped walking. She stared at the door, heart fluttering in her chest.
“This doesn’t change—” Jo turned back, trying to get the final word, but Pan had vanished into thin air.
