She regarded me, face stone, the light of her eyes peering through even my most deeply hidden threads.
“It is useless to offer me false truths, Vivi,” she said.
My heart leapt to my throat. “I swear it, my goddess, I—”
“Just as it is useless to offer them to yourself.” That single finger slid down, over the angle of my chin, lifting it. “So very terrified of that beating thing within your chest. That is the wrong enemy, child.”
My mouth closed. Acaeja straightened, drawing herself up to her full height. The light of her eyes flared, and the threads at her fingers shivered and rearranged, as if mapping the path to a new web.
“Your offering is very noble,” she said, “But I do not want it. Your death is of no value to me. But your life… I see that something of great usefulness may come of that.”
I released a shuddering breath.
But that brief, powerful wave of relief crashed down hard when Acaeja turned back to Nyaxia and Atrius. For a split second, I thought that perhaps I was about to witness Atrius’s death—or a battle between the goddesses that would destroy all of us.
Yet Acaeja’s voice was calm when she spoke again.
“I have great sympathy for your pain and your grief, cousin. So, I will let you keep these victories. Let you keep the head of my acolyte. Let you keep this kingdom. But.” Her face darkened, the light of her eyes tinged shifting blue. The sky above us grew unnaturally purple, soundless cracks of lightning dancing over the stars. “Know this, Nyaxia. You have crossed a line here today. Done what cannot be undone. I have fought too long and too hard on your behalf to be disrespected like this. And you know that if it were any other but me standing before you now, the punishment would not be nearly so light.”
Nyaxia smiled sweetly. It reminded me chillingly of the smile I had seen in Atrius’s vision—the smile that doubled as a death promise.
“I long ago tired of the White Pantheon’s petty threats, Acaeja,” she said. “If Atroxus or his ilk want to come for me, let them come. I will fight harder than my husband did. I have none of his compassion.”
Acaeja stared at Nyaxia for a long moment. The threads on her fingers danced and wove, fanning out behind her wings as if running through a thousand possibilities of a thousand futures.
“I tried, cousin,” she said, softly. “You will not remember it. But let the fates show that I tried.”
And then, in a blaze of clouds and smoke and wings, Acaeja tipped her head to the heavens, and she was gone.
Nyaxia barely glanced after her.
“Such catastrophizing,” she muttered, pushing a sheet of star-dotted hair over her bare shoulder. Then she turned to Atrius, and that slow, night-hewn smile spread over her beautiful mouth again.
“Atrius of the Bloodborn,” she crooned. “You have served me well. You have exceeded my expectations. In return, I lift the curse I placed upon you, just as I promised.”
She leaned down and touched Atrius’s chest.
With that touch, a sudden burst of darkness overtook the world.
A soundless scream rang in my ears. My knees hit the stone ground before I knew what was happening, my body curling in on itself. The vampires restrained on the pillars slumped, barely conscious, against their restraints.
Atrius had doubled over, clutching his chest, his pain ringing out even through the chaos.
Nyaxia offered no further parting words. In that maelstrom of night, she was gone. And when it faded, my senses slowly slipping back to me, I pushed myself to my hands and knees only to immediately sense Atrius lying on the ground before me, lifeless.
I choked out his name and crawled to him. My head swam, and my limbs were wobbly beneath me. Darkness clawed at the edges of my senses, ready to pull me away at any moment.
But I still managed to make it to Atrius’s side, my hands sliding over his bare chest.
Fragments of his memories flashed through me—memories of the way Nyaxia had cruelly killed the Bloodborn prince even after he had fulfilled her greatest demands. For one terrible moment, I thought that she had done the same thing to Atrius.
If she had, I would—I would—
I couldn’t let myself finish the thought. I used the last of the energy I did not have to reach into Atrius’s aura, as deep as my exhausted magic could take me, right down to the core of his heart.
And there, I felt his soul. Weak. But alive.
And there was no rot here. Nothing consuming him.
I let out a shaky breath and sagged against him. With the rush of adrenaline leaving me, so did the rest of my sparse energy.