Page 168 of The Washwoman at the River’s End

“Shanni?” a voice calls out. The girl freezes, her smile growing.

“Mother?”

An older woman appears in the doorway, eyes bright with joy.

“Oh, mother!” Shanni races through without another glance, and even though her life ended too young, I’m glad she isnae alone. The door disappears, turning back into rich wood, and any lightness in the room brought on by the girl's happiness at seeing her mother flickers out.

I snap my fingers, and the room of judgment morphs once again, my throne turning back into my armchair. Two matching ones appear in a circle with a table in the middle. Ban-dia a’ Bhàis and Theo approach their seats, and when they sit, a dram appears in each of their hands.

“How did she find her? I thought you hid her this time,” I ask, though it’s not accusatory. This is the second time Cailleach has found the woman who was Fated to be her replacement and eliminated her.

She sighs. “I'm embarrassed to say I do not know. I chose someone deep in the Measurer’s kingdom. A tiny village of no more than fifty.”

“How old was she?” I ask, and the goddess's eyes flash with anger.

“Three days shy of her twenty–third birthday.”

A growl rips from my throat. We were three days away. Three fucking days, a blink to a god or goddess, and the girl would have begun to come into her powers. The dàn bearing her sigil would have begun to appear in her mind. A new one, specifically for her to mark her as a Fate, and had she accepted it before her twenty-fourth year, she would have been brought here to pledge herself to Ban-dia a’ Bhàis. I grip my glass tighter.

“The Epoch will begin soon, then,” Theo says, his voice strained. Of the three of us who govern the path, the consequences of the Cutter refusing to step down bothers him the most. The sheer number of lives that will be lost.

Ban-dia a’ Bhàis nods grimly, taking a long sip.

“Do you think it will change anything? That it will cause Cailleach to see what she is doing to her kingdom?” he asks.

“We can only hope,” Ban-dia a’ Bhàis says. “Blàr says she’ll make sure of it. That this one will ravage the kingdom. Thousands upon thousands will die.”

“And it willnae be enough,” I say, my voice sharp. “Her soul is too corrupted by power. She willnae stop unless we stop her.”

“What is it, then, that you suggest?” Ban-dia a’ Bhàis snaps, her ethereal face somehow haggard. “I have tried all I can think of. I have hidden the ascending Cutter as well as I can, but she always finds her. This isnae how it’s meant to be. The ascending should make their pledge, and the Cutter willingly step down. Pass on her power. That was my design.”

I look at Theo, then the goddess. “Then we must change your design.”

Ban-dia a’ Bhàis leans back in her chair, eyebrows raising. “I’m listening.”

“Make it so the next ascending cannae be killed,” I say.

Ban-dia a’ Bhàis shakes her head, her frustration growing. “You know magic doesnae work that way. To do something to alter the threads so severely, there must be a bargain.”

“Then I will make it." I take a pull of whiskey. The words come out casually, but I know the weight of what I am offering. What I’m risking. This is not a decision I’ve made based on emotion or impulse. Cailleach must be stopped.

The room goes completely still.

“What is the bargain you propose?” she asks, but there’s curiosity in her voice.

“Make it so the next Cutter cannae die, and I will vow to you that I will find her and protect her. I will ensure she accepts her position so that the ascending Weaver and Measurer can begin their ascent. Maybe together, the three of them can change fate.”

She tilts her head, swirling her glass. “You cannot go above. Not without becoming mortal. And even then, there are too many variables. How can you be certain you’ll succeed?”

“With another bargain,” Theo says, and my eyes flick to his. He’s staring at the goddess, determined, without an ounce of fear. “Mine. Weave it into Brennen’s thread that he will find me. That he will use me in whatever way he needs to be successful in our quest. That I will help protect the ascending.”

Warmth fills my chest. “Thank you, brother,” I say.

The goddess straightens, listening now. “Even if you both succeed, it isn’t only a matter of finding them. What about this realm? Who will guard the path? Who will guide the souls that pass through and judge them?”

My throat tightens because of all the things that could cause me to change my mind, this is it. My purpose, my duty. It isnae just what I do, but who I am. Can I trust anyone else to do it well? The souls who pass through this room deserve nothing less than everything I can give them.

But do the living not deserve the same?