My hand trembled as I raised the dagger, the point hovering over my frantically beating heart. Every instinct screamed at me to fight, to run, to do anything but obey. But Alastor’s command held me in place, an invisible vise around my mind and body.
“Two.”
At his command, my Remnants exploded outward in a frenzy of shadows and smoke. They whipped through the air like a thousand serpents, hissing and thrashing as they sought theirtarget. Alastor’s eyes widened a fraction before he threw up his own defenses, his dark power surging to meet mine in a clash of wills.
The room descended into chaos as our Remnants battled for dominance. The walls turned dark. The table shuddered. Even the lights above us flickered while the others sat in barely concealed glee at the unexpected entertainment.
Bellatora laughed. “Oh, this is delicious! The little mortal has some fight in her, after all.”
Goddess of War, I reminded myself, forcing my mind to focus on anything but the darkness closing in on me as I held the point of the blade so close to my heart, the threads of black silk on my gown began to snap.
“I do so love when they struggle. It makes the breaking that much sweeter.” Vesalia’s words cut through the haze of pain and fear, igniting a spark of defiance deep within me. I latched on to it like a lifeline, fanning the embers of rebellion into a raging inferno. I would not let them win. I would not be their plaything to torment and discard.
With a burst of willpower, I wrenched control of my shadows back from Alastor. They snapped to my command, coiling around me in a protective shield. The dagger trembled against my chest, caught between his power compelling me forward and my own fucking refusal to lie down and die. But Alastor was far more powerful. Far more trained and reserved and ancient and all the things he needed to be, and I was nothing. His power consumed me, smothering me in darkness. When his Remnants pulled away, mine were nowhere to be seen. Cowards.
Alastor’s eyes narrowed to slits as he held a hand toward me. “Come Huntress. Our show is over.”
“Three, dammit,” Serene barked. “Can’t you see she’s breaking the balance? She took too much power. Ezarius wasright about her. She has to die. Why else would you call us all here? Such a waste of Vesalia’s precious time.”
Alastor plucked the blade from my hand, ignoring her. “Sit down, Huntress.”
I had no choice, of course.
Alastor reached inside his coat and produced a palm sized glass ball, drawing all of the gods’ attention back to him. “You’re here to watch and learn and make no further moves against the Huntress. You’ve lost that battle before it began. If there’s balance to be found, you have my word, when I have what I want, I will find it.”
The glowing god at the end of the table stood, his chair cutting off Alastor’s words. “If Reverius learns that we?—”
“Reverius will do nothing if he believes the Huntress to be at risk. Which I’ve also ensured by giving him a false Chrysalis.” His lips curved into a cruel smile. “What he sees are mere possibilities, shadows of what could be. Nothing more.” His eyes slid to mine, power thrumming through the binding marks. “Forget that,” he commanded.
I felt the memory start to slip, like water through cupped hands. But in the depths of my mind, where my own Remnants lurked, the conversation echoed back.
False Chrysalis. Possibilities. Shadows.
The words repeated, burning themselves into my consciousness even as Alastor tried to strip them away.
The monster inside me stirred, and I welcomed it. Let them think me tamed. Let them believe their powers and their games made them untouchable. I’d learn their rules, their weaknesses, their precious balance.
The tension in the room shifted as Alastor’s hand came to rest on the back of my chair, a casual gesture that carried the weight of ownership. “The Huntress belongs to me now. Her free will is mine. Her power is mine.” His voice was silk over steel.“Anyone who wishes to challenge that claim should save us both the time and speak now.”
A god I didn’t recognize, all sharp angles and autumn-fire hair, leaned forward. “You speak of ownership? You were banished. Cast out. Your words carry no weight here, and neither do your threats.”
“Yet still you came when summoned. That speaks of your desperation more than mine, Kealor.”
“You know nothing of my desperation,” he countered, rising from his seat. “Trading trinkets and secrets and suddenly you think you have command over things you know nothing about. You tempt the Fates with this bullshit, Alastor. I won’t sit by and watch.”
“Then leave,” he said, standing to roll his sleeves. “Unless you’d prefer to be removed.”
The other god’s power rose to meet Alastor’s words, tasting of decay and dying leaves.
But their clash became distant, meaningless, as my heart stopped in my chest.
There, across the room, Winter appeared as a ghost. The last time I’d seen her in physical form, I’d completely shut down, losing all sense of self. This was not the place.
Not the place.
This is the place.
Can you kill a god?
