“What is this…?” she asked, eyes narrowing.
“Not all history of the primordials was preserved with time, Goddess.”
In neat, perfectly legible handwriting was one namethat sent an inexplicable tremble through her body.
Vorthal.
“I’ll save you the trouble of reading through it. There was a fifth primordial. This Vorthal character.” He tapped the title scribbled in ink.
“We know the four leading ladies: Obscuros and Phosphora, and Astraeus and Eos, the lovers. But Vorthal was erased from time and it’s obvious why. He was jealous of his siblings and wanted the mortal realm for himself. Almost got it, too. That chapter recounts how your precious primordials cast him out, coming together to create a realm void of all space and time. The Rift, as it’s called. Your mother, in the process, got her brain blitzed and hasn’t been the same since.
“Vorthal attempted to cross over into this realm once more. The children of Venia, descended from Eos’s line, and of Canissa, descended from Astraeus’s line, are most susceptible because their primordials no longer exist. But with every mortal soul he manages to latch on to, his strength grows. Or so it is written.”
“What do you mean he attempted a return ‘once more?’” Tethys asked, eyeing the man’s skeletal index finger as he traced the simple, handwritten script across its page.
“Ever heard of the Dance of Dawn and Dusk, Goddess? Who do you think planted such hatred in the hearts of those ancient imbeciles? Us mortals can be pretty ugly toward one another, but that war was…Well, you were there.”
Tethys was silent for a breath. Thoughts, both believing and suspicious, blazed trails of fire through her mind. She wasn’t certain she could trust this criminal, and it was difficult to believe he’d simply come into possession of this forbidden edition through his familial line, but there it was: Eos’s edition, heavy in her hands.
“You’re telling me that everything I, an immortal child,know about the creation of the realms is a lie?” she asked, her eyes narrowing on the man beside her.
“No, not a lie. Just an altered version of the truth,” he suggested.
Tethys’s nostrils flared. There was nothing stopping this mortal man from forging a copy of the Theogony or even rebinding it with sections of his own creation. But only a select few of copyists even knew what the edition looked like, and they were sworn to a life of silence.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m having trouble believing you. You’re suggesting an all-powerful being with malicious intent is kidnapping these children in order to cross the bridge between us and a separate realm entirely?”
“Yes, and before you send me to the labor camps and deem these the ramblings of insanity, might I direct you to the next page,” he said, tapping the book once more. Tethys fought the urge to flick his filthy hands away before he could soil her favorite dress and turned the page.
Her heart plummeted into her stomach.
“Thisis why I requested a meeting with you, and you alone,” he whispered.
Tethys’s scalp tingled and her throat dried. Written in the margin of the following page in perfectly uniform script, was an annotation:
If this note is found, tell Tethys of the prophecy. She must know of her demise before it is to begin.
The handwriting was unmistakably familiar. She’d recognized it the very moment Randall placed the text in her lap. The small o’s and the unique curve of the s’s were Phosphora’s.
Chapter 38
“Are you ready for tonight?” Jaide asked as she ran a brush through Tethys’s ringlet curls.
The women sat in Tethys’s bedchamber later that afternoon. The day would soon fade into dusk, and with it dozens of candles would speckle the city in flickering firelight from every windowsill. Ostara was a celebration of the coming flood, and as such, the flames were lit to welcome the rains back on eastern soil.
“I think so,” Tethys replied, plucking the petals from daisy bloom. Tethys tossed the now-bare flower head on the vanity before her and rose from her seat.
“There’s something haunting you, Tethys. You have that look,” Jaide asked, trailing the goddess as she spun the brass latch of her armoire.
“What look?” she asked. How could she explain the nightmares creeping through her body like rats or the prophecy that told of her death?
“Talk to me, Tethys. You won’t scare me away,” Jaide said, draining her wine. Her voice quivered as she spoke.Tethys knew her friend was withholding her concern. Tethys couldn’t possibly offload this weight on to Jaide.
“I’ll speak as plainly as I can, but I promise you, Jaide, you don’t want this burden to bear,” Tethys said, the threat of tears tightening her throat. “I’m terrified of what’s to come. The rebellion, the missing children… There’s so much darkness in this world. More than I’ve seen since my arrival.”
Araes spewed questions at her for the entirety of the carriage ride home from her meeting with Randall Maximus. The return to the manor felt like an interrogation, and by the time she’d crossed the foyer and climbed the stairs, her head spun.
Tethys sent for Jaide, promising Araes that she’d explain everything after the ball that evening. She’d pushed him down the hall toward his chambers, requesting a few moments of quiet isolation to steep on the newfound knowledge. Now Jaide was the one who fell silent. Her lady-in-waiting bit her lip and lowered herself to the settee.
