The golden grass turned brown beneath my feet, withering and dying as my frost murdered the last vestiges of life. It would never regrow, not in Velora. Everyone and everything that remained in Velora died.
Except me. I would live forever.
I stumbled, knees crashing to the frozen ground, then my elbows. I did not try to spare myself. I flattened my handsagainst the ground, curling them into the dirt. I couldn’t hold back the power a second longer. Part of me did not want to.
Velora was already in her final death throes. If my power could speed the process, then so much the better. I poured my frigid power into the ground, freezing the grass and the dirt and the tiny creatures that burrowed beneath it.
Maybe if I tried hard enough, I would reach the Dark God’s hell, deep beneath the ground like the humans believed.
The Dark God was supposed to be my patron. The creator of the witches, I’d prayed to him for help. I’d prayed for him to help Kyna escape Velora.
“This is not what I asked for!” I screamed down at the ground, even though I knew the idea of the Dark Lord dwelling beneath it was a fallacy. Human minds were too limited; they could hardly imagine the infinite realms occupied by the gods, so they assigned physical locations to heaven and hell.
I clawed at the ground, the sharpened points of my nails tearing as the dirt hardened, colder the deeper I went. But I welcomed the pain. It was the least that I deserved.
“I asked you to save her! What chance will her daughter have with that useless human! I asked…” A sob tore from my chest. “I should not have waited so long to come.”
I hunched forward over the ruined ground, sobs tearing through me, shaking my shoulders, my arms, until I was a ruined shell myself. Just like Velora.
“What do I do now?” I whispered. To the Dark God. To myself.
The air around me shifted, a change so subtle only my enhanced senses allowed me to perceive it. I felt it on my skin, the slight charge of power.
A tendril of wind caressed my cheek, sliding over the sensitive skin of my throat and beneath my ear. It seemed to linger at the back of my neck, almost like a hand brushing acrossthe sensitive, exposed skin of my nape. It lingered there with me for hours as I tried to rearrange the broken pieces of my life into something recognizable. It whispered the words of the spell that I could not summon earlier in the cottage.
When I finally stood, it followed me back across the mountains and into the coven lands.
CHAPTER 63
Unlike the mysterious Sacrifice Gate,carved into the mountains themselves, the temple that guarded the Memory Gate stood in the shadows. The stones were the same color as the mountains on either side, clearly sourced from their ore.
Nearly two months had passed since I’d thrown myself over the threshold and into the temple in Canmar. In that time, I’d acquired both a Lifebind and a familiar. My power was somehow, inexplicably, still strong and more under control than ever.
But all of it could be ripped away by one cruel turn of fate at the hands of the gods.
I still owed Xyta one more sacrifice.
Who knew what awaited at the remaining three gates?
Auri’s warning echoed in my head. I had not told Garrick or Isanara about the nighttime visitation, though the latter had unfettered access to my mind, so she probably already knew.
I moved through the temple’s rituals by rote—eating, visiting the altars, avoiding Alize and Varian. My body demanded an afternoon nap. As night fell beyond the stained-glass windows, I found my bed in the dormitory while Garrick saw to his evening ablutions in the attached washrooms.
There were only ten beds now, though the barracks could have accommodated three times that number. Alize chose one near the exit. I chose the one farthest away from her.
Isanara hissed at Alize and then tucked herself underneath the bed. I let my chuckle of appreciation go free as I unstrapped my leather vest and then unbuttoned my gown, draping them both over the end of my bed. My weapons and belt I tucked beneath my pillow, within easy reach. Even with only two other supplicants left, even with Garrick sleeping in the bed across from mine, even with Isanara coiled beneath me like a snake.
The gates were not places of safety; neither were the temples. The guards who stood in the doorways were part of the deception.
A gate is always near. A god is always watching.
I settled beneath the blankets, adding my fur-lined cloak over the top for an extra layer of warmth and weight. Another illusion of security.
Garrick returned from the washrooms, dousing the torches along the wall as he crossed the barracks. I watched him with open admiration. Alize had already rolled away to face the wall.
He’d left his tight leather breeches unfastened, the charcoal-colored linen shirt hanging off of his shoulders unbuttoned as well. I sank my teeth into my lower lip to keep my little growl of appreciation inside. The muscles of his stomach were so sharply carved I would have thought I could slice my hand on them, if not for my thorough exploration the night before. They curved downward, pointing to the parts of him still concealed beneath the leather.
But the leather could not conceal the glorious length of his?—
