“No,” he says a few seconds later. I feel his emotions more clearly now—there’s some fear and sadness there, true, but something burning stronger than both. I think it’s…pride?
Warmth bubbles inside me when I understand. He’s proud of me for making this choice.
Tira looks at him like he’s as crazy as me. “You’re really telling me you don’t have a problem with this?”
“I can think of much worse things than Ana being unkillable,” he says calmly.
Tira throws up her hands as if imploring the gods to bring some sanity to the room. I meet Leon’s gaze. We’re in this together, bound body and soul, and that means I won’t do this without his approval.
“Are you sure?”I ask.
“I’m not sure, no. And neither are you. We don’t know how this will go. But that doesn’t matter.”
He looks around at the others, speaking aloud so they can hear his reasoning.
“Certainty isn’t always the savior you think it is. In war, there’s rarely a truly right option. We shouldn’t expect things to be easy just because we’re doing them for the right reasons. I made the mistake of thinking that way once, and I won’t ever forget it.”
“So you’re saying this might be as disastrous as our last plan, but at least we know that going into it?” Alastor sums up weakly.
Leon rolls his eyes at his friend. “I’m saying this is Ana’s choice to make, and I won’t take that away from her. I love her too much.”
I look over to Tira, silently asking her to understand.
“Fine,” she says, shaking her head. “Fucking fine. I guess if Leon of all people can accept you throwing yourself into danger, then I have to.” She wipes tears away and rolls her eyes, clinging to her usual snark. “Of course, you just had to go and be the most selfless bloody queen the world ever saw.”
I walk over and pull her to me, hugging her tight.
“Make that monster suffer,” she murmurs in my ear.
“I will,” I say.
“Are you sure you know how to do this?” Drisha asks Etusca as she and I step carefully around the seeping darkness Caledon left behind to pick up the tokens.
“Yes, and no,” she says. “I know enough of the legend and of viatic magic to understand the general principals of it, but I also suspect it’s not very complex. We’re probably safe to do some improvising.”
I know Etusca is a brilliant healer, so I have faith in her judgment, but not everyone feels the same.
“Not very complex?” Alastor asks. “Are you talking about the same make-me-a-god ritual as we are?”
Etusca gives him a long look that makes Alastor flush. “It’s the artifacts that bring all the power to this spell—not ancient words or symbols. We don’t need to call on divine power because it’s already here in these objects. The difficulty is in getting them,but now we have them, there’s no reason the magic itself must be elaborate. The actual experience, however?” She looks at me with concerned eyes. “I can’t guarantee that will be easy. In fact, I can almost guarantee itwon’tbe.”
I can tell she’s questioning herself, wondering if she should put the little girl she raised through this.
“Think about Agathyre,” I say, using one of the few things I know she cares about as much as me. “This is for your nation as well as mine.”
She nods, her doubt settling.
We move to the temple where I was healed. Etusca says I can draw on the gaidonesti there with less risk of accidentally touching the power of the cursed star too. I’m familiar enough with its magic that I’m confident I could recognize and avoid it, but she doesn’t want to take any unnecessary chances.
“We’ll have you pull as much power as you can from the gaidonesti before we start the ritual,” Etusca says, looping the seal around my neck as I stand beside the altar the dryads had me lie on before. The other tokens are laid out on top of it, and I wrap my fingers around the disc as I look at them, feeling the hum of its power. It’s meant to keep me safe, protecting me on this journey I’m about to undertake, but as Etusca’s hand hovers over the scythe, I can’t help but swallow. Fear flares across the mooring from Leon, echoing my own emotions.
“This will separate your soul from your body,” Etusca says. “You must use it when you feel you have absorbed enough power from the gaidonesti.”
“Then the cup?” I ask, trying not to dwell on the idea of cutting my own throat like I watched Caledon do.
“Yes,” Etusca says, her hand moving over the goblet filled with water. “I’ve blessed the liquid. When you drink from it, your body will transform. That’s why you have to remove your soul first, because it could be damaged in the process of transformation.”
She doesn’t say why, though I can guess: mortal beings were never meant to become immortal. Our souls aren’t really built for it, yet here I am, ignoring all of that.
