Stone groaned, and Arion’s head tilted into my touch, his eyes lighting up as he awoke from his slumber. Hot breath spilled over me as the creature exhaled before turning its gaze to the single door at the back of the dais leading to Selene’s private chambers.
Something in the way the ink in my skin chilled left me uneasy. I couldn’t place it, but it almost felt familiar. She rarely summoned me, content in her solitude, her sprites and warhorses seeming to be enough company for her.
I hesitated before tapping my knuckle against the ancient wood door, adorned with intricate carvings of a massive glowing dimós tree with a depiction of the deity Celestia curved over the top, tears rolling down her cheeks before falling to the earth below, where the dimós trees sprouted and grew.
“Selene?”
There was no response, and I glanced back at the two horses, who watched me silently. I knocked once more. “Apologies for disturbing you at this hour, Goddess. It’s Damien.”
Still no response. It would be like her to be upset that I hadn’t given her the time she felt entitled to, but before I could write her off, I stiffened as a thought crossed my mind. Was she unwell? I couldn’t remember ever seeing the goddess fall ill or refuse my visits or... I paused, remembering when I’d gone to her to beg her to help with Emilia, only to find her locked away in her chambers after Lucia had passed away.
I frowned, searching the room for a sign of anything that might have happened, but nothing stood out. The dimós trees cast their warm glow as they always did, bare branches stretching out toward the high ceilings where the night sky and her stars were trapped. Arion and Arete remained at her altar, eyes still lingering on me, unable to move from where they stood.
“I shall return another time,” I said, turning to head back down the stairs of the dais. She was likely just upset with me for avoiding her summons.
As I stepped into the void, though, I couldn’t help but feel like something might be wrong.
15
CASSIE
Istared into eyes of a lost past on the easel before me. Eyes that were once my own had been brought back to life in a rough sketch I had been working on all afternoon. It was almost done and ready for watercolors, something I never imagined I would ever touch again.
My sleep had been filled with pleasant dreams for once. No, not dreams—memories. Memories I’d longed to experience.
“I told you it would be the perfect tree,” I said, beaming as I tucked one final pinecone into place among the ornaments we’d crafted or collected over the years: stained pine cones, sticks of cinnamon and dried chaza berries Damien had brought home from the Godsrealm—the berries a sweet remembrance of his mother and the desserts she made for us as children—a few carved wood pieces Zephyr had gifted me over the years, and strands of yarn decorated with wooden beads I’d spent the past few weeks carving and refining until they were just right to string around the tree.
I glanced back at Damien, my smile so wide, my cheeks were growing sore. My heart fluttered at the warmth of his gaze as he watched me from the other side of the tree where he’d placed another ornament.
“You’re always right,” he said, and I realized his hand was behind his back.
I cocked an eyebrow, my eyes narrowing. “What’re you hiding?”
One corner of his lips curved into a crooked grin, and he pulled a small box from his back, tied together with delicate ivory ribbon. My eyes lit up as I stepped toward him.
A tag dangled from the ribbon with my name written across it. Elena.
“I found it on my last trip to the Godsrealm and I thought of you.” He held it out to me. “Open it.”
I reluctantly took the box, fingers hovering over the ribbon as my eyes lifted to him. “But I haven’t gotten your Solstice gift yet.”
He shook his head. “This isn’t your Solstice gift. Don’t worry about that. This is just something extra.”
I looked back down at the box before running my fingers over the silk ribbon. It was so beautiful, so soft, and I tugged it loose before removing the lid. My eyes widened, breath rushing from my lungs at what I saw.
Nestled within a bed of glittering silk was a crystal. Not just any crystal—this was carved with the most detail I’d ever seen. It was a creature of legend, one I’d know anywhere. The Eternis Moth was a beloved creature, companion to the deity, Celestia. There was only one to have ever existed in the history of the Godsrealm, and stories told of its size, far larger than any moth on either side of the veil, its massive wings tipped with delicate teardrop shaped tails. Whoever had made the crystal neglected no detail, including the phases of the moon on the creature’s wings, which represented the endless cycles of rebirth the creature underwent.
Damien stepped to my side to look down at the delicate ornament. “When I visited Belimus to meet with Zeus, I came across a Lapidarist in the market, working on the most intricately cut crystals. They were the most beautiful things I’d ever seen, and when I saw this, I remembered how much you loved The Eternis Moth, how often you’d ask my mother to tell you stories of it at bedtime so many centuries ago.”
The familiarity of it tugged at something deep in my chest, a part of me long lost, rising to the surface as if summoned at the mere memory of it. It had always been my favorite story, in this life and the last.
“I don’t know what to say,” I said, tears dotting my eyelashes. “It’s beautiful.”
He pressed a kiss to my temple as he ran his fingers through my blonde hair. “Why don’t we put it on the tree?”
“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” I said, taking the ribbon that had tied the box together, and running it through the loop before tying it.
I lifted my gaze to the yew tree, and as if it were meant to be, my eyes found a place, a gap in the ornaments I hadn’t noticed. I pushed myself up, hooking the ribbon over some of the needles. The crystal caught the firelight as I stepped back to admire it, the facets of the carved surface near glittering as it gently swayed before settling in place.
