“Is he coming back?” a younger boy asked, clutching Tethys’s skirts as they followed the orb’s guiding beam. He glanced up at her, terror filling the whites of his eyes.
“Who, little one?” she asked.
“The man with red eyes,” he replied, his gaze darting from shadow to shadow. The orb flared once more, but the shadows didn’t retreat this time. “I hear him whispering to me. He says you shouldn’t be here. He says…you’re going to take us away.”
“Take you away? No sweet boy, I’m taking youhome. Let’s keep going. Your parents are waiting for us,” she replied, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“Mama is waiting for me?” the boy asked, his eyes returning to the shadows lurking in every direction.
“She is, and she’ll be so excited to see you,” Tethysreplied, planting a gentle kiss on the back of his hand.
She guided the children over the hills and back toward the cavern entrance. With the arrival of the shadows, the world had fallen into silence. The flowers stiffened and the grass stilled. The breeze that once breathed life into this place fled. Tethys waited until the last child crossed the cavern’s threshold to fall into line behind them.
Encased in the orb’s protection, they continued into darkness, only their footfalls echoed through the depthless black. She knew what awaited just beyond the orb’s silvery light, watching for any slight falter. Vorthal’s shadows slithered around them like claws scratching down her spine. As long as she had Eos’s relic, they’d be safe.
Tethys quickened her pace, the doorway’s iridescent shimmer now a faint ripple on the horizon. The orb’s beam blazed as she carved the path for the children.
“Goddess…” the boy whispered, tugging on her skirts. “He’s here.”
The orb’s light flickered, like an electric surge.
Shadows, darker than the blackest of nights, shrouded Tethys’s vision. Her eyes strained as she tried to distinguish each child’s figure, taking count of every little head. Then, a voice, deeper than the lowest of ocean trenches, slithered up her neck and burrowed in her ears.
“What a welcome home gift this is,” it said. Tethys, with gritted teeth, tightened her grip around the youngest child’s hand. “But why, Daughter of Dawn, do you take what’smine?”
The goddess froze, her boots ensnared by wriggling tendrils of chaos. They wove themselves up her legs and around her wrists. Her heartbeat frenzied.
“Helen, take this,” she whispered, slipping the orb into the eldest child’s hands. “And run. My siblings are just beyond the door. Guide the others out but be quiet.”
“I can’t. Not without you, Goddess.” Helen’s eyesflashed in the darkness.
“Yes, you can. I need you to be brave now, remember? The orb will keep you safe. Follow its trail until you reach the door,” Tethys replied, her voice trembling. “My siblings are waiting for you there.” Helen wiped her eyes and nodded, gripping the orb with white knuckles. It flickered softly, then illuminated the path once more.
A boy whimpered, his frail body trembling as he trailed Helen closely behind. The other children followed suit. One by one they passed Tethys and disappeared into the hazy shadow toward the gate, until the orb’s light was a mere blink in the darkness.
If this were to be her end, at least Tethys could rest knowing she’d kept her promise to their mothers. She clutched her belly, feeling the flutter of her unborn son react to her frantic heart. Her throat tightened, welling tears in her golden eyes.
The whispering voice clicked its tongue. “Oh Daughter of Dawn, there’s no need to cry. It isn’t yet time for your demise. Your fear is far too sweet, and that babe, still small in your womb, will be a delicious treat once I’ve had my fill of you.”
“I’ll kill you before you can even try,” she hissed, clawing at the shadows holding her captive. Behind her, the darkness coalesced, forming a shifting mass of ultimate malice. Two luminous red eyes glared from its shadow, like venomous gemstones.
“Such a brave little thing,” it whispered, shifting toward her. Tethys cried as each tendril of shadow burrowed into her flesh. “Unfortunately, Daughter of Dawn, you’re powerless.”
The mass clarified into a male. Standing before her, with ruthless crimson eyes and predatory grin, was the keeper of chaos. The primordial banished to the Rift, sentenced to suffer in empty solitude until the end of time.
Vorthal.
His straight auburn hair hung to his shoulders, loose strands curtaining his brow. Tethys sucked in a breath as he clasped his spidery hands together and approached. His stride was silent as a lion approaching the unsuspecting gazelle.
“I can taste your heartbeat, Daughter of Dawn. Like a frightened little mouse,” Vorthal purred, brushing a pale thumb down her cheek. The touch seared her skin, as if the primordial himself dripped with suffering. His black leather coattails rippled as he closed the distance further, their noses practically touching.
“I may be powerless, Keeper of Chaos, but so are you,” Tethys spat, jabbing a sharp index finger toward the gate. Vorthal laughed, flashing his dagger sharp canines. His skin stretched across his hollowed cheekbones as he laughed low in his throat.
“The thing about fear, fierce goddess,” he said, licking his lip. “Is even the smallest seed, just as your saplings and bulbs, will grow and spread. Look at your world and ask yourself if you truly believe my power to be null.” The primordial tapped a sharpened fingernail to her forehead. “One little thought was all it took for your realm to burn.”
Tethys flinched, her blood roaring in her ears. She wriggled against the shadows, feeling them slither up her thighs.
“What a wonderful partnership this will be,” Vorthal grinned, his sharpened canines flashing with bloody delight. “Do you feel how much power we could take together? The world bows at our feet, little goddess. I know you’ve sensed it, too.”
