29. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

A ya followed her mother into the forest of the dead, ignoring the dread squeezing her so tightly, it hurt to breathe. Little daggers sliced up her ribs, but she kept going. One foot after the other, trailing behind a woman she was convinced hated her, and thought Aya was a traitor to their people. All for loving the ‘wrong' woman. One she was desperate to talk about, to show to her family wasn't one of the ones responsible for their deaths.

She tried to look at the trees and the little birds flittering among the branches. Their songs echoed, tapering off into the vast forest, until only the wind rustled through the leaves. Leaf litter crunched under foot and entangled with the gentle tune of the forest. If she hadn't known exactly where she was, she might've believed they were still alive, rather than in a land of death.

But that's exactly where she was.

It should've excited her to be wandering the land she'd heard so many stories about. This was the afterlife of her people, and she found no joy in it, only a crushing sense of disappointment and frustration. Guilt gnawed at her mind; at herself for not coming sooner, for only coming now because she needed training, for not being the daughter her family wanted. She had done what she knew she had to in order to survive, but that didn't exactly make the reunion with her family any easier.

"How are your wings? Must be quite an adjustment," her mother murmured.

Aya flinched, unsure and floundering how to reply.

Her mother paused to look at her, then sighed. "Some necromancers develop wings. The old stories said it was a sign of the most powerful of our kind. Rare, of course. I had only seen one other before you, though she was quite elderly by then and passed away soon after."

"I never knew," Aya whispered roughly.

"Why would you?" Her mother set off again. "Those like you were the first to die. The Arcan witches ensured—"

The words snapped off in her mother's mouth and a long silence followed.

Aya snorted. "I remember. I was hunted—same as Elaine."

Her mother ignored that and looked to her, the discussion of wings and witches banished. "Tell me about this task of yours."

Aya sighed, wanting to argue and defend Elaine. Make her see but she realized it was useless, and she had much bigger problems to fix first. She cleared her throat and quickly explained what she had in mind, hoping there was in fact something she could do. They desperately needed a win and time was running out. Finding where Aurora was imprisoned was the priority, and if she could get her hands on whoever was resurrected, then they could finally find themselves one step closer.

When she finished, her mother was regarding her with a kind of frown she couldn't read at all. The silence was deafening between them. Aya shifted on the balls of her feet, not sure what else she could say. How she might convince her mother to help her.

"You're sure someone has been brought back?"

"You should've seen the bodies…"

"I can." Her mother straightened up. "If you permit me to?"

Aya froze. She was wary of letting anyone into her mind, let alone someone she was convinced either hated her or was so deeply disappointed in her, but what choice did she have?

Easier said than done.

She released a shaky breath and held her ground as her mother closed the distance. It was strange seeing her up close, noting the similarities between them. Their dark and untamed curls, the long slope of her nose, the way her mouth curled. Even their tawny brown skin, though Aya's was a shade lighter from all the time she spent in the shadows. As far as she possibly could be away from the sun.

Her mother regarded her again for another moment before holding out her hand. "May I?"

Aya nodded slowly as she slid her own hand into her mother's.

At once, she felt her mother slip into her mind. Gentle and focused, she plunged through the memories. Aya closed her eyes, thinking back on the first time they found the bodies. How they found them, how the room felt and all the little details she found. It was strange being back there, watching herself and the others move among the bodies.

She stood at the edge of the room with her mother, watching it all unfold.

Or, at least, she thought they were.

She glanced at her mother and found her looking at Elaine. Her breath hitched but she held back the protective urge simmering in her chest. She tried to pick apart the way her mother studied her witch, but it was frustratingly unreadable.

"She's certainly beautiful," said her mother quietly. "I can see why you'd want her."

As if Aya's interest was purely superficial.

"We're not here for Elaine."

Aya made a point to say her name, that she was a real person and not simply a witch.

Her mother's mouth tightened into a thin line as she nodded curtly. Aya stared her down until something yielded between them, and her mother began to examine the room. Those once warm, maternal eyes turned black, and roved over every table and mark and stone. Dissecting every part of that accursed chamber.

"This speaks of evil magic," said her mother finally, her eyes finally returning their normal amber hue. "Our people believe that the dead have their hearts weighed by Akaria and judged accordingly for their resting place. They are the link to death, the very reason at which blood flows, and thus life is granted to the body. By its own death, the body follows."

"So, the bodies were used to bring someone back?"

Her mother nodded. "Hearts conceal a link to Akaria, to the land beyond. With the right spell, you could channel a great amount of power from it and use the hearts to reach beyond the veil. However, you would need something belonging to the original person to bring them through. Otherwise, it would be like reaching your hand into a vast ocean and somehow selecting the exact fish you desired among a school of billions."

"But we don't know who they brought back. Is there a way I can learn that?"

"The spell occurred in that room. If the spell occurred recently enough, there will be a feint tear in the veil. Find that and you can catch the magic scent of whoever was brought through. It won't give you a name or a face, but should you meet them in the flesh, you will recognize them."

A little tension bled from Aya. It was something.

She took a step forward but stopped herself, cursing that childish hope she held of embracing her mother again. Grateful for her aid. Aya closed her eyes and willed the return to the forest. As her eyes opened, they were back among the ancient trees.

Distantly, she heard the childish sound of laughter.

Aya made a move toward them.

A hand touched her wrist. "Please don't."

An icy hand squeezed her heart. Aya glanced at her mother. "Do you truly see me as a traitor to our people?"

She had to know. Be sure of what she saw in her mother's eyes, even if the very words tore her to ribbons.

"It's…complicated." Her mother pulled away. "You see someone you have come to love, to cherish. I see that. I saw how you looked at her, even in that vision. She's your whole world but I don't know her. All I see is a witch with Arcan's marks and that was the last thing I saw before I died, before I heard my daughter—your sister —lose her head."

"I'm your daughter too." Aya's jaw clenched. "Or am I so far beyond redemption to be that anymore?"

"Aya…"

Aya stepped back with a snarling hiss. "Forget it. I guess I'm too much of a monster for you. So be it."

She tried to understand her mother's rage. It was a feeling she knew well, one that had kept her fueled with so much hatred for every witch that lived. Because in their eyes, she saw how much she'd let it consume her. How on the night she first met Elaine, she nearly let that arrow into her, not the beast. That it was only for a split second she'd felt Akaria's presence brush against her, she'd hesitated, and the flash of that accursed pendant in Elaine's pocket that made her fire at the beast.

And she wanted her mother to understand Elaine wasn't one of the monsters, that whatever blood was on her hands was done out survival. A sentiment Aya shared and understood. She just didn't know how to make her mother see, unless—

"What if I brought her here?" Aya asked. "You could—"

"No."

"But if you only tried to see her, to listen—"

"She's a witch. They murdered our people, helped the Vesmir royal family hunt us all done like animals."

Aya stepped back with a sigh. It was futile. At least today, and she didn't have the energy to fight with her, to rage against that storm. She was already so damn worn down and there was a more pressing war to attend to, and a family that was very much living who needed her.

"I should go."

A flicker of regret passed over her mother. "Aya…"

Aya stepped back and donned a stony mask. "Akaria thanks you for your assistance."

Tobias was waiting for her when she returned. He had a cup prepared for her and when she lifted it to her lips, it wasn't tea. She downed the honeyed wine in a single go and set the cup aside, then without speaking, pressed her face into his chest. Warm, muscular arms wrapped around her, like a blanket smelling of home. His heart was a steady drum, reverberating through her body.

He didn't demand answers or pester her. They'd been friends long enough to read each other, to know how to act when the other was at rock bottom. He rubbed small circles in the small of her back.

"I think I've lost them," she whispered into his chest.

"You learned to love a witch. They can to." Tobias pulled back a little and cradled the side of her face. "Elaine has that way with people."

She released a weary breath and stepped out of his arms. "Maybe, but until they reach out, I won't go back."

"And if you need their help again?"

"If Akaria wants me to free her damn goddess, then she can teach me herself."

Tobias smiled, but it was edged with sadness.

"And I thought Alexios had a messy family situation," he mused. "I think I much prefer his drama with them over yours, no offence."

She waved him off with a dry smile. "If I suddenly decided I want men, then I think I'd take his drama too."

"I don't share."

"Neither."

Aya wandered over to the kitchen and dug out another flagon of honeyed wine.

"Are you sure it's the best time to get drunk?"

She ignored him and took a swig. "As it turns out, another little fun discovery of the changes I've gone through, it's much harder to get drunk. This now just dulls things a little." She handed the bottle to him. "Drink."

"Aya…"

"Tobias," she mocked. "Don't be a bore."

"You're in pain. This isn't you."

She laughed, the sound like shattered glass. "Tobias, I'm always in pain. I just bury it and sometimes , I drop bodies."

"Your mother could still come around, but these things take time, and as much as that hurts to say and feel, that's how it is. And maybe," he said, pausing as he took a step closer and took the bottle from her. Not to drink but to set it aside before he continued, "they may never come around. Akaria will bring them back and they will see you happy and in love, cherished and respected. Then they will know that they have lost you. "

She didn't know if she believed him, and the idea of them living in Purgatory, being so damn close, felt messy and cruel. How was she meant to live in the one place that had finally felt like her safe place, knowing they were so close?

"That sounds like a nightmare," she whispered. "And I've had enough of those."

He opened his mouth to speak when the ground suddenly shook. Aya stumbled forward, catching herself on the edge of the bench. As she straightened up, the ground shuddered again. Bright light exploded in the sky, flashing through the window.

She was tearing past Tobias in an instant and outside.

The tear in the sky, the reminder of their very lives at risk, ripped wider.

And a blast of fire ripped through.

It crashed against the trees and the ground, and another blast followed until fire rained down from the sky.

"Aya, what the—"

"Tobias, you need to shift now."

"What?"

She shot him a sharp look. "I'll guide you from the sky. We need to get the fuck out of here."

Tobias glanced over her shoulder to the house. "What about…?"

"Homes can be rebuilt, people can't." She touched his shoulder. "Shift."

Reluctantly, he tore his gaze away as his eyes bled gold. "Don't let me burn."

A ghost of a smile pulled at her mouth as the forest around them burned. "Don't tempt me."