“Tell me,” he murmurs against my hair, his fingers tracing circles on my back.
“It’s Atlas,” I whisper, the name itself causing my throat to tighten. “The reports grow worse, and his followers increase with each passing day.”
Thesix’s arms tighten around me. “We knew this might happen.”
A sharp knock at the door cuts through his words. We both stiffen, the brief sanctuary of our moment shattered.
“MyTelae.” The voice belongs to Winlow, captain of the new organization called theKe Neye. “Forgive the intrusion, but I bring a report you must hear.”
I pull away from Thesix, reaching for my robe. “Enter,” I command, my voice shifting from lover to queen in the space of a breath.
Winlow steps inside, his face ashen beneath his helm. He bows stiffly. “Traveallis village, the one that sits between Midaeliea and Antalis, was attacked and burned to the ground.”
My blood turns cold, “Atlas?”
“Yes, but …” Winlow hesitates, “They say he commands the flames with his hands now, my Telae. Fire that burned and consumed everything in its path.”
The words hang in the air between us. No one here has been crafted to hold the power of the flames such as Khaysus did. I have seen the destruction that it could create. The one story I was stupid enough to tell him about.
Before I can respond, a sensation like hooks beneath my skin, pulling, hits me. Souls.
“Henå!” Thesix is beside me in an instant, his arms supporting me as my knees buckle.
“The villagers,” I gasp, clutching at my chest where an unfamiliar sensation spreads like an acid beneath my ribs.
One by one, I feel them—pinpricks of light extinguishing inside me. My children. My creations. The pain is unlike anything I’ve ever known, each death a small tear in the fabric of my being. I’ve crafted countless souls, breathed life into so many forms, but never have I felt themleave.
“Henå, talk to me, baby … what is going on?” Thesix’s voice seems distant through the haze of agony.
My fingers dig into his arm as another soul passes through me. I can feel its trajectory–not a dissolution, not nothingness … but a path. A journey back to Mohasha,my home. The place I fled to create this world.
“They’re dying,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “I can feel each one. Their souls … they’re returning to Mohasha.”
Another wave hits me, stronger this time. Dozens more, their terror still clinging to them. I see flashes: orange flames licking at thatched roofs, children screaming, Atlas standing amid the chaos with fire dancing from his fingertips. Creatures I’ve made … wolves that are wicked, mutated by his own power.
“This was never supposed to happen,” I say, trembling. “Death wasn’t a part of this world.” I break off as another soul tears through me.
Winlow shifts uncomfortably. “MyTalea…. What does this mean?”
I look up to meet his eyes. The memory surfaces. Khaysus’s face, beautiful and terrible, his last words to me before I fled.
“You will either be with me or I will do everything until I find you again. I will make sure this world is nothing but ash, and any world that you go to.”
My breath catches. “It means Atlas has found a way to reach someone I thought was a distant dream …” I struggle to stand, leaning heavily against Thesix. “And it means Khaysus will come for me.”
The pain subsides momentarily, but I know it’s merely a lull. I can feel souls hovering at the edge of my awareness.
“If the souls are returning to Mohasha…”Thesix begins, his voice low with dread.
“Death will now take our world.” I whisper, the words bitter on my tongue. “They are creating a path. A trail of breadcrumbs straight back to me — to Ashonera.” I press my palm flat against my stomach, feeling the echo of each passage.
Another soul tears through me, and I gasp, clutching at Thesix’s arm again. This one carries images: a child with dark brown eyes standing before him as they consume his home. A tear falls down my cheek.
“He’s made a bargain,” I say, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. “Atlas has somehow contacted Khaysus.”
“That’s impossible,” Thesix says, but his voice lacks conviction. It wasn’t long ago in this same room I told him the story of Mohasha and how I ended up here.
I straighten, forcing steel into my spine despite the pain. “Winlow.”
