But he was not looking at the golden girl. The other girl stood with him, her umber skin radiant as fireflies danced around them. This was a secret moment, soft and stolen, when their pretenses could fall away and truth could find them instead.
Of course, those moments didn’t last forever.
The golden girl burst through the swaying willow branches, her blue eyes widening in shock. The prince and the girl he so obviously loved whirled, clutching tight to each other.
The image shifted again. Something tugged in Mariah’s chest as it vanished into smoke.
She had a feeling those two never found peace again.
The picture reformed. The golden girl was alone. She knelt before an obelisk of black stone veined with something that could belunestair. Tears streaked her beautiful face, her fine dress muddied.
“I swear it,” she whispered through her sobs. Mariah’s skin prickled.
“She did not know the oath she swore.” That voice was back, the one that had commanded Mariah to see. The golden girl pulled a small dagger from the folds of her gown, biting back a whimper as she sliced the delicate skin of her palm. Her blood hissed as it met the obelisk, soaking into the stone. “But she changed the path of the world forever when she made it.”
The image changed again, yanking Mariah with it.
“We had always planned for seven,” the voice whispered in Mariah’s ear. “But with her bargain, what was meant to be seven became eight.”
Eight figures stood shoulder to shoulder, backs to Mariah. Their gazes were tipped back, staring at something above them—something Mariah couldn’t see. A few of them were familiar.
The golden girl who’d made an unknowing bargain. Her dark-skinned sister. The handsome prince who’d caused their rift.
Power swirled around the eight beings, swallowing them up. Light burst across the field, all different colors: indigo and red and blue and green and silver and gold. The eight figures were lifted up, up, up. They faded away, until the only thing filling Mariah’s vision was the entity the eight figures had watched in that empty field.
She knew, without a moment of doubt, that this was now no long-forgotten memory held within the fabric of time.
It—they—floated in the ether above her, a swirling orb of wings and eyes and stars. Raw power pulsed from them, feedingthe space surrounding her, beating in time with her heart in her chest. The beast in her chest whimpered, cowering in fear.
The being above her blinked, all thousand eyes closing and opening as one.
“Are you what we were promised?”
That voice thundered through her, louder than before. It burrowed into her bones, wormed into her soul.
“What… What are you?”
A thousand wings beat the air. “We are Endless. We are Eternal. We are the Creators, the First and the Last. Tell us, Desperate Daughter. Are you what we were promised?”
Creators. That word: it reminded Mariah of something. Something she’d heard the gods say, though they never explained it.
Crieré. It must mean creator. And this… This was it.
The creator of the gods.
“Not just the gods,” the voice whispered. “We created all. We are the forge of worlds, the masters of time. But creation has a price, and before she ascended the moon promised to pay it. So, we ask a third time: are you what we were promised?”
The beast beneath Mariah’s skin writhed in agony. She clenched her teeth, forcing herself to meet the Crieré’s thousand-eye stare.
“I don’t know.”
A million feathers rustled. “The severed power is fading,” the Crieré rumbled. “We will have our seven, even at the loss of eight. You come here, smelling of moonlight and drenched in the blood of a bargain. But you are not ready.”
“I am ready. I need to defeat Kol.”
The being tilted, as if cocking their head. “A strange desire,” they said. “A curious one.”
Mariah ground her teeth. Her initial shock was fading, impatience taking its place. She didn’t have time to deal with thisbeing’s nonsensical words and cryptic messages. “Just give me my magic back. I won’t ask for any more help.”
