She whirled in a circle, sweeping her sharp-taloned hands over the crowd that surrounded her and Bex on all sides.
“You want freedom, Children of Ishtar? You want Heaven to fall and this war to end? Then you, too, must act! Don’t waste your prayers on a dead goddess who can no longer help. Offer them to the living queen who is fighting for you here and now! Bow your horns before the only daughter of Ishtar who ever gave a damn about whether you lived or died. Offer your names to the Bonfire, and she shall burn Gilgamesh and all his creationsto the ground!”
Her voice reverberated like thunder through the forest this part of Heaven had become, but no one shouted back. Even Bex was shocked speechless, because those words were blasphemy. A new name was one thing, but offering prayers? Honoring Bex instead of Ishtar? That was too far. It was sacrilege. It was—
“Bonfire.”
Bex raised her glowing eyes to see the Morrigan staring down at her. She was still in her human form, but the goddess looked much bigger now than she had before. She towered like agiant over Bex’s five-foot-two frame, her black wings blotting out even the light of Heaven as she asked, “Did Ishtar order you to storm the Hells?”
Bex flinched away, but everyone was staring at her, so she answered the question truthfully.
“No.”
The Morrigan looked pleased. “Did she tell you to attack the Anchor in Seattle and free the slaves that were kept in bondage there?”
“No,” Bex said again.
“Has sheeverinterceded on her people’s behalf?” the goddess demanded. “Do you remember even one instance when Ishtar blessed you with her power or helped you directly?”
“She brought me back to life when I died,” Bex offered.
“No, she didn’t,” the Morrigan spat. “I saw everything through the forest’s eyes when Adrian Blackwood worked with the Great Forest to rekindle the fire Ishtar had allowed to die.Youwere the one who chose to return to the fight. All the ‘Merciful Mother of the Riverlands’ did was fuse the new fire with the old, and the only reason she was able to do that much was because of all the deathly water you kept pouring down your gullet. If you hadn’t been watering her like a houseplant for five thousand years, Ishtar wouldn’t have had enough strength to meet you inside your own head. She’s nothing but a parasite riding in your body, a critic watching and judging and doing nothing whileyoufought the warshelost.”
“That’s not true,” Bex said angrily. “She’s my mother, my goddess!”
“Shewasyour goddess,” the Morrigan corrected. “But a god who demands worship while providing nothing in return is no better than a king who demands tribute and then sits idle on his throne while invaders slaughter his people. Such useless monarchs were beheaded in ancient times, but you lot keepbrainlessly defending yours like Ishtar hasn’t neglected all of you for the last five thousand years.” The goddess’s black eyes narrowed. “Such mindless obedience sickens me. Are you sure your people don’t deserve to be slaves?”
Bex opened her mouth to object, but the crowd beat her to it. The throng of demons who’d been silent all this time was suddenly screaming at the Morrigan in fury. Rather than being angry back, though, the goddess threw out her arms in welcome, grinning from ear to ear like the insults were hymns in her honor.
“That’s it!” she cried, waving for them to give her more. “Howl like the hit dogs you are! It’s a vast improvement over the quivering sheep I saw when I came down, but all that wrath is still meaningless if you don’t use it.” She reached down and grabbed Bex by the arm, yanking her up beside her.
“You want to end your suffering?” the goddess yelled at the demons. “Then stop being good little slaves and seize your freedom!”
She yanked Bex’s arm higher, forcing her to stand as tall as possible or be lifted off her feet.
“This isyourqueen!” the Morrigan bellowed. “In five thousand years of slavery, Wrath is the only ruler who never surrendered you to Gilgamesh. Even Ishtar gave up and accepted defeat before his sword, but the Bonfire Queen has fought, died, and been rebornonehundred and ninety-eight timesfor your sake! That tenacity is her strength. Not even I could defeat Gilgamesh in his present state, but she can. She’s theonlyone left who can end this, but only ifyougive her the power she needs to do it.”
The Morrigan’s smile grew wicked. “This is how you win your own freedom, demons of the Hells.Thisis how you destroy the man who killed the gods! The Blade of Ishtar is your swordnow, so give her your names. Feed the Bonfire withyourwrath, and she shall tear all Heavendown!”
The goddess finished with a flourish, but even her booming voice was lost in the crowd’s answering roar. The wave of wrath that came with it was strong enough to knock Bex off her feet. She would’ve gone down if the Morrigan hadn’t been holding her arm in a death grip, but while the enormous power of her people’s fury was shoving itself down her throat, Bex didn’t want it.
She understood why they were mad. It was impossible not to resent being the victim of a war that had started five thousand years before you were born. She’d felt the same way several times, but unlike her people, Bex didn’t have the luxury of indulging in such feelings because she was a daughter of Ishtar. Her entire existence was framed by being her mother’s sword. She was the Wrath of Ishtar, the ever-loyal blade. Betraying her mother was the one thing she absolutely could not do, but the anger of her people was too strong to escape.
Just like when the demons of War had shoved their traitorous queen away, the demons in the square had Bex in a chokehold. Her bonfire was already flaming to the sky with the intensity of their wrath. Wrath at Gilgamesh for doing this to them but also wrath at Ishtar for not saving them despite years of loyal worship.
The anger wasn’t new, either. The Morrigan must’ve known exactly what she was doing. Her words had tapped into a well of resentment so ancient and deep that it seemed to have no bottom, because the Morrigan wasn’t wrong. Ishtarhadn’thelped them. She and the other gods were supposed to be all-powerful, but the demons were slaves because the infallible gods hadlost. Lost and never recovered, never risen again or returned in glory to fight for their creations.
Bex knew that was because Gilgamesh had chained the Wheel of Reincarnation, but the demons in the square knew no such thing. In their eyes, the gods had abandoned them, and now that the Morrigan had stirred the pot, they were furious about it. Not normal levels of furious, either. This was a toxic, simmering resentment born from generations of humiliation and powerlessness. For centuries, it had grown like a headless monster, but the moment the Morrigan painted Bex as the solution, all of that formless anger slammed straight into her.
Even for the queen who’d been born to eat this specific sin, it was too much. If the Morrigan hadn’t been holding her up, the tidal wave of toxic, bitter rage would have sent Bex to her knees. She was still struggling not to pass out when the Morrigan grabbed her face.
“None of that,” the goddess scolded, forcing Bex to look her in the eyes. “You wanted to be a full queen again, didn’t you?”
“Not like this,” Bex choked as her flaming hands dug into the Morrigan’s clawed ones. “I thought you were going to ask them to give me a new name. Why did you turn them against Ishtar?”
The Morrigan’s smile grew cruel. “Because Gilgamesh isn’t the only one who hates the gods,” she whispered, holding the queen close as the raging fire of wrath began consuming Bex’s body. “Ishtar killed my beloved son out of petty jealousy. All the gods were like that: shallow, spoiled monsters who cared for nothing but their own enjoyment. You’ve already killed Enki, so don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean.”
“Ishtar is different,” Bex insisted. “She’s merciful. She—”
