I saw red and pulled. Wet tearing sounds filled the arena as the cartilage started to separate. Even when his wing began ripping away from his spine, Phonos didn’t scream. Blood spurted from the widening gap, and in seconds, he would be left earthbound forever. But he showed no sign of pain.
Perhaps that should have given me a clue that something was wrong. It didn’t. The next thing I knew, his free wing swept around in one final, desperate strike. His hardened feathers sliced through my abdomen, tearing through muscle and organs, shredding everything vital inside me.
I roared in shock and pain, and my grip on his wing loosened as my body fought to keep functioning. I staggered back, and he got up to face me. We stared at each other across heartbeats that felt like hours, both poised at the edge of ruin. His wing hung by threads of torn flesh, partially detached and pumping blood. I was literally gutted and could barely even stand.
Another second would destroy us both forever. But neither was willing to yield.
“Halt!”
It was a single word, but when spoken by Clotho, it carried absolute authority. We froze in our tracks, our muscles responding to the Moirae’s will even if our minds rebelled. We couldn’t have continued the battle if existence itself depended on it.
Iaso manifested out of nowhere, having no doubt been waiting nearby in case she was needed. She pressed her glowing hands against my shredded abdomen, her death energy working desperately to weave me back together. Then she moved to Phonos, her touch reattaching his nearly-severed wing with careful precision.
The Moirae spoke with one voice, their combined power shaking the arena foundations. “The combat ends in a draw. Both fighters came within heartbeats of permanent harm. The decision returns to she who was fought over.”
Perfect. The moment I’d been anticipating since this farce began. Even being almost disemboweled couldn’t erase the sweet taste of my success.
She would pick me again, just like she had at the bride market. The brand would blaze back to life on her hand, proving our connection to anyone who dared question it.
I turned toward her, waiting for her declaration, ready to hear my name on her lips. But something terrible happened. She hesitated.
Her eyes moved from me to Phonos and back again, confusion written across her delicate features. Not the careful weighing of a difficult choice, but genuine bewilderment.
“I...” She petted Zoe’s scales, as if seeking comfort from the only familiar thing in sight. “I don’t know… Who am I supposed to choose?”
The words shattered everything I’d believed about our bond. She didn’t remember me. Somehow, impossibly, she had no idea who I was or why she should care.
“The woman shows uncertainty,” Lachesis declared. “When the contested prize fails to decide, ownership falls to the party with superior legal standing. Phonos of House Keres claims Callista of Agrion.”
“No!” I lunged forward, but guards intercepted me before I could reach the platform’s edge. “She chose me! She chose me at the bride market!”
“And yet, she can’t remember that now.” Phonos limped closer, triumph glinting in his eyes. “How unfortunate for you, Theron. But you should know, the threads always lead where they’re meant to go. Besides, if it had been me, I would’ve protected her from anything. Even Charon.”
His words hurt more than every injury I’d taken from him in our duel put together. Of course. This was because of Charon’s memory extraction. The price for entering the bride market.
It was supposed to be a single happy memory, chosen by the ferryman himself. But clearly, that hadn’t happened. Clearly, something had gone wrong.
“Callista!” I struggled against the guards holding my arms. “Remember what we shared! Remember our ceremony!”
It was pointless. The woman who’d trusted me from the moment we’d met now looked at me with empty eyes.
I had lost everything to politics and memory, and the cruelest part was that she’d never even know what she’d forgotten.
Chapter 7
The Keres Spire
Callista
Theemptinessfollowedmeeverywhere.
Not the physical hollow where memories should live, though that ached constantly. It was something deeper, more profound, maybe as ancient as Asphodelia itself.
I leaned against the enchanted wood of the death barge, rubbing my chest. Powered by the same energy that pulsed through the city’s veins, the vessel vibrated against my spine like a purring animal. It brought me little comfort, but I tried to pretend.
Phonos shifted beside me on the polished stone seat, adjusting his position. “We’re nearly there.”
His wing, the one nearly torn off during the duel, remained stiff against his back. Just looking at it made me wince. “Does it still hurt?”
