“Enough!” Minerva’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade as her cane whacked the top of the table. She stood. “If anyone moves against Paesha, I will end them.”
Many of the gods feared that Minerva’s grasp on the Fates’ Wrath gave her the power to kill them. Her threats resonated around the room, anger seeping down the walls in a flash of dangerous power. “Consider the root of this problem. It’s the Fates. It’s always been the Fates. The prophecy they delivered spurred this imbalance into motion. The girl had nothing to do with it.” She turned to Ezra, pinning him with her piercing gaze. “Remember who you are, Ezarius.”
Ezra’s expression hardened. “You know nothing of what I’ve seen.”
“I know enough,” she countered. “Wake up and see what’s before you.”
The chamber fell into uneasy silence as she walked toward the door. Before leaving, she turned back one last time. “I call for a vote. Which of you will stand against the Fates?”
Hands rose slowly. Tuck. Myself. Archer, though his vote carried no weight here. Serene, surprisingly. Raeth. Veurs. Orathis. Nyaxis.
Against us stood Ezra. Vesalia. Kaelor. Bellatora. Aeris. Vaelen.
Eight to six. A fragile majority.
All eyes turned to Alastor and Irri, who had not voted.
“Well?” Bellatora demanded. “Where do you stand?”
Alastor’s eyes met mine across the table and I thought for sure he would stand against me, but instead he looked to Paesha. “I stand nowhere in this conflict.”
“Coward,” Bellatora spat.
Irri hummed louder. “The broken clock still tells the right time twice a day,” she sang softly. “But who remembers to check at those precise moments?”
“Remember,” Minerva said, her hand on the door, “the last time we stood against the Fates, I was punished. Who will it be this time?” She looked directly at Ezra. “Your vision showed what would happen if the Huntress died. Did it ever show you what would happen if she lived?”
With that parting question, she swept from the room, leaving us in silence. The fate of the realms hung in the balance, and I had just declared war on those who wove it, in the middle of a room of gods that would stand against me. My power flickered and faded away for a few precious seconds before returning. I could invite Death to stand with us again, give him back the memories I’d taken when I left him in his court, but these fragile alliances would fade on that decision.
As Minerva’s footsteps faded down the hallway, I rose from my seat, golden threads of power flowing from my fingertips to seal the chamber doors. The light coalesced into an impenetrable barrier, cutting us off from the rest of the castle.
“What the fuck, Rev?” Bellatora shouted, her hand moving to the hilt of her sword.
“Insurance,” I replied coolly, returning to my place at the head of the table. “Before any of you leave this room, you have a choice to make.”
I let my power pulse visibly around me, a reminder of who and what I was. “Either I take your memories of this meeting or you bargain with me to keep silent about what was discussed here.”
Kaelor’s laughter echoed through the chamber. “You would dare use your power against us?”
“I would,” I confirmed, meeting his gaze without flinching.
The room fell silent as they contemplated their options. I looked to Paesha, whose fists were held tight together on the table. She rocked slightly, the movement barely noticeable, but there.
“What would this bargain entail?” Veurs asked, his form shifting nervously.
“A promise. Bound by power and oath. In exchange, I will offer each of you something of value.”
“And what could you possibly offer that would interest us?” Serene asked, her golden eyes narrowing as they fell down my body.
I smiled thinly. “Knowledge. Secrets I’ve collected over millennia. Locations of artifacts thought lost to time. Names of mortals whose bloodlines carry specific traits. Access to certain sections of my personal archives.”
Tuck shot me a warning glance, but I ignored it. This was a necessary risk. The gods would kill the mortals that carried their blood so they could never rise against them. Gods died by the Fates and their descendants alone. It was a valuable trade. One Archer would have my ass for. As would Paesha. But there would be nothing else of greater value. Only I knew the beginnings of new power.
One by one, they made their choices. Vesalia demanded the location of an ancient hourglass that could freeze a moment without disturbing the flow of time. Serene chose the name of a mortal in a different realm that could draw uncontrollable desire with just his touch. Raeth requested access to my collection of mortal stories, tales I’d preserved from civilizations long turned to dust.
They bargained. I conceded. The weight of each promise settled on my shoulders like chains, binding me to obligations that would drain my already diminishing resources. I was trading away secrets I’d guarded for centuries, locations I’dprotected, knowledge I’d hoped never to share, but it was worth it for the greater good.
Alastor stood last, Irri swaying to an unknown tune beside him. “We require nothing from you, Keeper. We will keep your secret. But know this, I will remember, and I’ll watch.”
