“You choose the god,” Tomin said from my side, still holding my hand.
There was no spark of heat like when Garrick’s skin touched mine. But there was a low, humming warmth. A comfort. What I imagined friendship might feel like.
I traced my eyes over the altars, considering.
“Xyta,” I decided. The ungendered Deity of Sacrifice. Beside me, Tomin lifted his brows. Without his hood up, his dark curls visible and wild, he looked even younger than he was. I let my lips curve, an action that was so rare it felt foreign. But right. “You expected me to choose the Dark God?”
“It is believed that the witches worship him exclusively.” But even as he said so, Tomin steered me toward Xyta’s altar.
“He expects a certain amount of homage, as our creator,” I agreed, the curves at the corners of my mouth deepening. “But I already know he is on my side. It’s Xyta that I am currently worried about.”
“Fair enough.” Tomin’s smile faded as he reached for my other hand, positioning us on either side of the opening carved into the stone. His expression softened into the mask of neutrality I’d seen him wear so many times in the past week. “Close your eyes.”
I was certain the doubt showed in my eyes as I closed them. But there was no one else around to witness whatever religious nonsense I’d just agreed to. If only Maura could see me now.The head of my coven, most adamant in the separation and superiority of witches above all other beings—humans, priests, fae. The one who had sent me into the Seven Gates.
“Focus first on your breathing. Feel each inhale and each exhale.”
With my eyes closed, it was easier to focus on the physical sensations. I supposed that was the point. But my other senses were still as sharp as ever. I could hear the gurgle of the blood fountain, the soft whoosh of Tomin’s breath, the echoes of wind howling through the mountains outside.
“Notice the way your chest moves, then your stomach.” My stomach growled. Not helpful. But I tried. I noted the concavity of my chest and shoulders when I inhaled, the fullness of my stomach as I exhaled. I still smelled the coppery tang of the blood fountain, felt the cool rush of air from beneath the doors of the temple. But they were less fierce.
“Think of a place where you have experienced peace.”
My eyes snapped open. “Xyta is the Deity of Sacrifice.” Not peace. Even if we’d been at the Peace Gate, I would not have chosen Pava’s altar. Not when she’d ignored me for my entire life.
“Xyta will guide you,” Tomin soothed. His eyes were still closed. I stared at him for several inhales and exhales, but the constant pressure of his hands on mine finally convinced my eyelids to flutter back down.
Despite his methodic words, my mind resisted. Flashes of memory accosted me as I searched for something like he’d described.Peace. A place you felt safe. Peace. A sense of stillness. Peace…
CHAPTER 33
BEFORE
As a human,I’d always struggled to rouse in the morning. My earliest memories were of Janessa’s voice, chastising me for still not being dressed for breakfast. But as a witch, I found solace in the dawn.
Our power was strongest at night, with the moon high and the Dark God reigning. When all of my sisters retired, their power spent, I ventured out.
The coven lands held on to life longer than the rest of the continent, drawing on our vestigial power. But the curse tightened its grip with every passing year. Autumn was harsher than I remembered, the frost holding on longer into the day. But on that morning the sun gilded everything in gold tones as it slipped above the eastern horizon.
It was not a long walk to the glade, but I took the steps slowly, savoring the quiet. Within me, my power found stillness as well. I knew if I opened my hand, I could have summoned anything my imagination could fathom. Only when I was alone, without my senses invaded by the sharpness that was supposed to be a gift, did I feel a true sense of control. My coven sisters spoke of their heightened senses with reverence, used them to enhance their active powers. They’d all adjusted to the change fromhuman to immortal without difficulty. But for me, everything was too loud, too bright, too tactile. My enhanced senses created a cacophony of sensation that overwhelmed me to the point of near helplessness.
But in the dawn, everything softened.
I reached the glade just as the sun’s lower curve crested the eastern mountains. I slipped between the trees, following the bubble of the natural spring hidden in the copse of alders. The tall, straight trees created a near-perfect circle around the spring, leaving space only for the wide, flat rock on the edge of the spring that was my favorite seat.
But it was already occupied.
A lithe figure crouched on the flat rock, her fingers threaded around a bow with an arrow already notched in place. I froze between the alders, holding my breath so that not a single sound could escape my lips.
She was not a witch. There were still a handful of covens in Velora beside my own, but they were scattered to the west and north. One had taken over a section of land abandoned by the fae in the far east. But all of them knew where one another’s coven lands were—and what the punishment was for entering them uninvited.
There was a familiarity to the lines of her body and the tilt of her head as she peered past the spring to the thicket behind the alders. I had not interacted with humans in decades. Maura had confined me to the coven lands, citing my struggles to control my power. I knew it was because of that ill-fated flight to my family home all those years before. My sister was long dead now. There was no family for me to return to.
Perhaps it was her youth that was familiar, so different from the trenchant immortality of my sister witches. Though our faces and bodies reflected our age at death, there was an acute difference to the way hundreds-year-old witches held thosebodies. An assurance and a resignation. None of the hopeful spring that characterized the young woman’s crouch or the eager twitch of her fingers on her bow.
Neither would remain once we were done with her.
But the others still slept. For this brief moment in time, we were alone. I could spare her.
