Damien
A broken heart,a trivial mortal fear that had the power to undo them all. Though, I had been mortal at the onset of my existence, so why then did I not feel it?
There were other things I felt. The clawing desperation for our goal, the faint wistfulness for my mountains, the sinking fear when my master lashed out at me after my recent overstep. The fresh golden scar decorating my face from hairline to jawbone, disappearing down my neck, still throbbed with the heat of his power. For having said too much. Risking exposing our hand and losing her.
Second strike, he’d said, and I’d been trapped.
The third—I did feel fear at what that would mean.
But things like heartbreak? I cast my mind to those early years, many millennia ago, now dulled by the shadows of time. A faint ache passed through my chest, unsteadied me. Perhaps I had once suffered that pain, but it was fleeting now, fluttering away before I could recall.
All I knew of it was the pain twisting the face of the girl in the Angelglass. Magenta eyes shining with tears rather left unshed. Fingers gripping the wooden desk as she pulled herself together.
She’d disappeared with the boy, and when they both resurfaced on the fogged glass, there was a different weight upon their shoulders. A different strength, though murky with loss.
“Did the crack in the glass widen?” Xenique asked. Her wings fluttered, personal stake heightening her nerves.
“Yes,” I whispered, trying not to call attention to the minusculelength it had stretched. I threw my burgeoning power into it to see if I could feel anything, take any more steps forward. We’d been gathering, conserving, for so long, using only when necessary.
But how would this affect us?The weight of eight stares wondered.
We needed the Chosen Child, and through the tie to her, the boy.
Fate…She was a mist hovering among us, the creator of all futures. Fate was a gilded waltz gliding on the wings of unrepentant choices, each flowing into the next as day did to dusk. And the fates of that girl and boy were intertwined through a greater power than myself—than any of us.
But was there some way onecouldcontrol it?
I wondered, tracing the crack in the Angelglass with my gaze, eyes on the girl who heldmyfate in her veins. Was there any way to bind fate to will and sway it to one’s whim?
“These obstacles must stop,” our master growled, hair like silver ink floating on the wind of his subdued power.
No one responded. There was nothing to be done or said. Mortal affairs were beyond our control, no matter the cost they put on us. We could do nothing but watch the wars between their kind and hope fate turned in our favor, saving who we needed.
Undoing or salvation, which would she be? And how could I bend the result?
Part Two
Lachesis
Chapter Twenty-Two
Malakai
“You…what?”Cypherion nearly dropped the liquor bottle.
“It’s over,” I repeated. The words were like an iron brand dragging up my throat. I gripped the mantel in Cyph’s office until the wood groaned beneath my hands. It would only be fair to break something as I’d been broken, to destroy?—
Cyph removed one of my hands from the wood, shoving a glass in it instead. I didn’t know what it was, but it was strong and that was what mattered. I didn’t hesitate to down the damn thing.
At first, it only made the burning in my chest worse, but after Cyph refilled the glass and I threw that one back, it soothed.
He fell onto the green velvet couch, his own drink in hand. “Are you okay?”
I paced before the fire, searching the study for an answer. The room was almost entirely warm colors with plush jade couches and dark wood furnishings. Comforting amid the turmoil of my night. The books lining the shelves and maps sprawled across the desk were cozy—worn but not cluttered. Organized, everything having its precise place according to Cyph’s astute mind.
My thoughts were nowhere near as orderly. “Yes and no.”
Cyph reclined, one arm slung across the back of the couch, waiting for me to continue. Looking like he’d sit there all night if need be.
