Her heart pinched.
She could see the memory in the billowing golden rays—standing beside him, small and young, filled with a painful longing to earn his affection. He was tall and dignified, pointing up at the sea-sky through the streaks of brassy sunlight shining over his face.
Darkness never lasts, my darling magnolia.
She’d stared up at him in awe, hanging on to every word he said.
And back then, like a fool, she’d believed him. Parched for a love she never deserved.
Marina wanted to reach into her younger self and yank that feeling out, like an iris bulb—that incessant yearning for her father to love her the way he did Naia. Without it, he might still be alive.
An ache split behind her sternum, deep as the earth.
She unclenched her fists. Fatigue pulled at her limbs as she turned to the solid door framed by sandstone. It led underground to the most desolate prison of the palace.
Two guards stood at its entrance in crisp beige suits. It was odd to see them in anything but their flowing attire and golden chains. New ruler, new uniform, she supposed.
Outfits were one of the many unyielding changes that Freya had made since becoming the High Goddess of the Sea.
The servants skipped around and smiled, rather than walking to their destination with a frightened professionalism. Villagers visited more often now that the imperial gates remained open. Mother’s garden was excavated and turned intoan additional courtyard. The south wing of the palace, Father’s domain that had been isolated since his imprisonment, was renovated into a magnificent, multi-story library.
Nothing was the same.
Why did I come here?
Perhaps to seek validation from a mother who would undoubtedly praise her for killing Father, as if it would somehow wrench out the guilt still lodged in Marina’s chest.
Or to simply crumble in the arms of the only one who ever made her feel safe, regardless if it had been centuries since Mother provided such comfort. Those stamps of her childhood still gleamed with possibility.
Though, it was a ridiculous thing to hope for, given the state Mother was in from Finnian’s hex, seizing in episodes that left her incapacitated.
What now?
Marina sighed, the effort it took to breathe exhausting her energy.
She faced away from the doors. She did not come here to see her mother.
Kaimana was the only connection to him she had left.
Nausea filled her stomach.
She swallowed.
He was everywhere there—in the grass, the trees, the air.
She squinted up into the bright sunlight. It flushed her chilled skin, despite every molecule within her screaming to look away.
A school of fish waded through the waters, leaving behind a trail of bubbles in their wake. Marina kept her eyes on that swirling path, the rupturing pockets of air.
Just like that.
I will never see him again.
Her eyes fell shut, pushing tears down her dry cheeks still coated with ash and soot from the Land of the Dead.
I do not wish to be here anymore.
A slow anguish floated through her, collecting in her depths, packing like dirt in rain.
