“Ah,” the sphinx said, smiling, “the very legend that allowed you to wake me. To restore the creatures of myth that were lost with the imprisonment of the god.”
“It cannot be a coincidence,” Jezebel said.
I was tempted to agree with her. How was it we wereblessedwith these two prophetic destinies?
“It is not,” the sphinx agreed. “The stories once existed separately, but the Godsblood was the key. Only sisters with that source could revive the tale. Only they could have the power to brings the myths to life and destroy them again.”
A sister of life, a sister of death.
Not only communing with departing spirits. Jezebel had the power to execute them, too. To restore constellations to the sky by slaughtering myths, as I could pull them down to earth and wake them.
“Are Storytellers born of myth?” I asked.
“Their unique brand of magic is something of legend, yes.”
I turned to Jezebel. “That’s what happened at the pleasure house. When Brystin attacked that Storyteller, your magic reacted, Jez. Because the power of a Storyteller is something of myths, and she was dying. You have the power todestroy myths. To control them. It’s why your magic didn’t harm warrior spirits during the war, but it did that night.”
I went on, the magic buzzing in my blood, “And mine…mine is the counter. To pluck constellations from the sky and give them life. That’s what this power was trying to do in the catacombs. It was searching for a life to restore in those enchanted corpses. When it found none, it imploded. And itwoke a phoenix that night in the jungle—something preserved in the trees.” I took my sister’s hand. “When we traveled to that plane—the bridge—it woke these powers fully. We are each other’s balance, Jezzie.”
She considered, eye’s gleaming with a dark promise. A true Mistress of Death. “Sisters born of myth,” she whispered.
Sisters who could conquer the gods.
The sphinx assessed us proudly. “Something stirred on the day of your birth, Ophelia Alabath. The myth magic you bear, thanks to the Godsblood, ignited something that enables you to wield the power of Angels.” Her jade eyes gleamed. “A breath and blood not seen in…long enough that even the Angels had lost hope.”
They had written us off, it seemed. I gritted my teeth, fighting the urge to let them rot in that prison for eternity in retaliation. To show them the might of a warrior who held their fate in her veins.
The sphinx tilted her head, the move entirely feline. “What legacy will you leave behind Revered of the Mystique Warriors, Chosen of the Deities, Seraph Kissed by Angels?”
“I do not plan to find out soon,” I growled.
Because, while I wasn’t certain I trusted the gods or the Angels—didn’t know if I should unlock the prison or not—I was going to see the end of this bloodstained battlefield.
“We all must learn one day,” the sphinx chuckled. Then, reading the fury burning through my stare, she added, “Do not turn your back on this fate. I can see the temptation. The daring in your spirit. To do so would be catastrophic. For you, for future generations, and for all the realms.”
But which pathwasmore daring?
To free a reckless, greedy god, or to turn my back on him?
“If I am to do this,” I began slowly, “howdo I free the god?”
Jezebel and Erista shifted beside me. In encouragement or to deter the idea, I couldn’t tell, but I needed to know. Needed all the information I’d been lacking this entire time in order to make a decision of such consequence.
For months now, my life had bent to the whim of this Angelcurse. I was supposed to be the weak thing catering to divine interventions, running without an answer as towhy, just blindly taking the steps.
I was done.
Finally, I was taking that power back, with striking claws and sharpened teeth and the wings of Angels’ might beating at my back.
“There is a theater in the midst of mountains. Buried beneath stone and magic. Within it, a statue has been worn to time. Return the emblems of the Angels to their rightful bearers. Pour your blessing upon them.”
I swallowed past the ache in my chest, the tangle of relief and uncertainty, like sliding a final piece of a puzzle home.
“This theater,” I began, swallowing. “Have I been there before?”
The sphinx lowered her head, and something in the heaviness of the moment had the pressure in my chest threatening to crack. The backs of my eyes stung and my breath came in small gasps.
We had it.
