Page 62 of Once Written in Gilded Blood

Chapter 23

Alira

Kalel brings in another armful of wood and stacks it by the fireplace. Another week has passed, and yet our lives have never felt so peaceful and quaint. A perfectly small existence, even if we are dead. I’m more alive than I’ve ever been.

Mortem is where you’re at rest. Not suffering, not afraid for all eternity, as some believe. Pluto is a merciful god, even if he did make a mistake in his past by starting the curses with Jupiter.

“Let’s go before it gets dark,” I call back over my shoulder to him as I slip on my boots.

Kalel chuckles and comes up beside me to do the same. “We still have plenty of time,” he insists with a lazy grin. I roll my eyes but smile. It’s not as if walking in the dark is any different than walking in the daylight. There’s no danger here.

Another part of this place that I’ve become uncomfortably used to. There are no wisps or wolves, no warring kingdoms, nothing to tear us away from one another.

We head out for our daily walk, taking the same paths that we always do. The nice thing is we never have to worry about getting lost if we stray from one because this fog always brings us right back to the cottage.

Kalel holds my hand and lets his eyes trace the barrens. He’s completely different, being here. And so am I, I suppose. Without our kingdoms and the weight of them holding us down to the world above, we don’t have stresses or secrets from one another.

We walk for over ten minutes—something seems off. I glance at Kalel, and he must feel it too because he looks at me and firms his lips.

“Shouldn’t we have looped back by now?” I ask, flicking my eyes down to make sure we are still on the path.

He shrugs. “Let’s keep going another few minutes; maybe we’re walking slower today than normal.”

We both know that’s not true, but I don’t argue with him. We continue walking for a handful of minutes and still haven’t come across the cottage yet.

“This is different…” I whisper, worried that we may not be alone in the barrens anymore.

Kalel stops. “But why now?” He looks down at me and studies my features.

I shake my head and try to see through the fog. It’s futile. The mist is too thick. “Let’s keep following the path. It must be leading us somewhere.”

“You mean Pluto is leading us somewhere?” he corrects me.

Our steps become more urgent, and the mist starts to dissipate after a few more minutes. The path ends at a pond’s edge, tall reeds of cattails and plump lily pads crowd the shallow end.

Our feet stop where the small ripples in the water meet the sand. The thick brush surrounding the pond is bright with lime-colored leaves that wave elegantly in the slight breeze. The water is clear all the way to the bottom. Small minnows and frogs swim carelessly, ignorant of our presence. A thin tree grows in the center of the pond; the trunk is twisted like a vine and spreads out wide at the top. It may be thin, but it is enormous, reaching far into the sky and creating an almost dome-like foliage around the pond. Purple flowers hang from the branches, petals falling gently to the water and stirring the ripples. It’s a wisteria. An ancient one at that.

It takes me a moment to take it all in before I realize Kalel is stepping into the water and pulling me along with him. I gasp as my boots plunge into the water, expecting it to be freezing, but I’m surprised to find that it’s warm.

My eyes meet Kalel’s, and he grins. “What is this place?” he asks, looking down at the minnows that are curious about him and circle around his feet.

I chuckle, letting go of his hand and wading beside him. “I have no idea.” I keep my focus on the wisteria. The water reaches up to my shoulders, but I can still reach the bottom. I bounce off the soft pond floor toward the tree and stare up at the dazzling lights and colors that stream down from the leaves and flowers.

A glint catches my eye and brings my attention back down to the base of the tree, where I notice something metallic.

I trudge up the shallows at the base of the tree. Lotus sprouts up from the dense lily pads, and small green frogs give me curious looks as I stop before the tree, tilting my head as I stare at the dagger buried in the center of it. As if someone stabbed it into the trunk.

Wait. This is my dagger. I know I left it in the cottage, though.

I wrap my hand firmly around the handle, trying to wiggle it out. It stays embedded, refusing to relent to my tugs. I furrow my brows and give it one final sharp pull, and the blade flies free, sending me straight into the water from the force I was pulling with.

A voice coils around me as I stare up at the wisteria from below the water’s surface. It’s Venus’s voice. “You must return, Alira. It’s time. Take the dagger and cut your hand, let your gilded blood spill into this pond, and return to end the war.”

My chest aches, and a part of me mourns. Why did I have a silly hope that this quiet life here could last forever?

We can’t stop the war. We don’t want to fight.

Hands wrap around my back and guide me to the surface. Venus’s voice is against my ear as if she speaks through the water itself. “If you do not, then they will all perish. Only written in gilded blood can it be undone.” She leaves me with that familiar, ominous saying.