She felt the exact moment her heart fractured, when it shattered like glass, then caught on fire, turning to nothing but sand and ash. Grief swallowed her. Without him, she was nothing. Rage and anguish ravaged her and the coldness of despair swept in, hollowing her from the inside out.
“I would rather die a thousand deaths than live a life without you.”
Her head fell back and a mourning wail came from inside her. The piercing, wrenching sound split open the skies. Rocking back and forth, her inconsolable keening carried into the desolate heavens, where even the stars took pity on her.
“There you are,” a soft, feminine voice sounded from above, and Maeve opened her eyes to find herself ensconced in the glowing warmth of dawn. “You were far more difficult to find than I originally thought.”
Maeve gaped up at the figure standing in front of her as tears slid down her cheeks. Her hair was the color of morning sunlight, her eyes the hue of a rose’s first blush. An aura of pale pink, shimmery gold, and soft lavender exploded from behind her, and the aurora circled her like a crown. She wore a gilded gown of diamonds that swept off her shoulders, the incandescent fabric was snug around the waist, falling to the ground around her in rippling waves. Ruby-encrusted bands encircled her upper arms and wrists, and delicate pink blossoms were plaited into her long hair.
It was Danua.
The goddess of life.
When she smiled, Maeve felt a minuscule sliver of her soul piece back together.
“Tell me, my child.” Danua’s movements were methodical and graceful. Slowly she reached out and placed two fingers under Maeve’s chin, tilting her head up to face her. “Why do you cry?”
Maeve’s watery gaze slid over the bodies of those she loved, of those she lost. “All I ever loved is gone. Everything has been taken from me. My friends. My family. My soulmate. Without them, I am a wasteland.” She shook her head, easing back from the goddess’s touch. “Look around and tell me what reason I have to continue to live? The dawn will bring nothing but the memory of who I was and all I’ve lost. They are my purpose. They are the whole reason I’m here and yet…”
Her purpose slipped away like a forgotten memory and clarity struck her, startling her, clearing her mind from the haze of despondency.
Just as quickly, her heart wrenched. “I’m forgetting them, aren’t I?”
Forlorn, the goddess clasped her hands together in front of her.
“Why?” Maeve demanded, rising to her feet, forcing herself to stand tall. “Why am I forgetting those I love the most?”
“You are the soul of creation, of life, trapped in a world not your own. The longer you stay in the Ether, the more you will lose. Were you to come to Maghmell with me, you would be filled with the memories of every past life you have lived. But here, they will vanish altogether. It is a realm for those whose fates are not yet decided, not those of the living. Your fate, however, was decided long ago.” Danua’s lips pursed in thought before she continued. “You’ve been told what to do in order to return to Faeven.”
“No, I haven’t,” Maeve countered. Not once had the god of death told her how to get back home.
“You have,” Danua insisted, her tone slightly clipped. “But in order to do so, you must remember.”
Resentment fueled Maeve. It sparked to life inside of her, bubbling and building until it was ready to explode. “How am I supposed to do that when the longer I’m here, the more I forget?” Her gaze slid to Tiernan, and her nose tingled. She furiously blinked away the tears. “Is this my fate?”
Danua’s tranquil expression never changed. “It is a possible outcome, yes.”
Bile burned hot in the back of Maeve’s throat. Gut clenching, she turned away from the goddess and heaved.
“Breathe, my child,” Danua crooned softly. “Your soul has lived a thousand lives, each one more radiant than the last. You’ve been the Dawnbringer since the beginning—it was always you.”
“But you gave Parisa your soul first.” Maeve faltered, trying to make sense of the goddess’s claims. “Before I was even born.”
Another head tilt. “Did I?”
Confusion plagued her. “Yes. Everyone told me so. Every legend says Parisa was blessed with your magic until—”
“And who dictates these legends you speak of?” Danua interrupted, magic throbbing in the air, blooming like a field of flowers. “I think I would know who is worthy of such a gift.”
Maeve bowed her head, and the goddess’s warm palm came to rest on her cheek. “You were chosen by the stars, your destiny forged by the fates. It is time to rise, my child. Rise and rule.”
If Danua wanted her to rise and rule, then there had to be a way to change the outcome of this battle. Certainly, she wasn’t meant to watch the fall of the Four Courts, the end of her world.
“Can I fix this?”
“Anything is possible.” The goddess’s gaze flicked to the overcast clouds, then back to Maeve. “You are the very breath of life and without you, all will be lost. Great things will be asked of you, Maeve Ruhdneah.” The goddess spread her arms wide and the world around them illuminated with the brilliance of a hundred sunbeams. “But first, you must be the one to ask, yourself.”
It didn’t make sense, none of this made any sense. She knew Danua was trying to tell her something important, but she delivered it in more vague faerie talk instead of just being forthright with the matter.
