5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

T he sky was still alight as Aya lingered by the window of the council chamber, staring out with a growing sense of dread. The others were gathered around an ornate round table, whispering amongst each other. Ryker was in a quiet conversation with Ingrid, the syren representative. She caught only snatches but tuned out, keeping her focus outside. Trying—and failing—to make sense of the chaos.

Lilibet was dead. A life snuffed out, her soul out wandering the dark woods, hopefully fucking lost.

Behind her, the door groaned open. Heals clicked over stone. The icy brush of familiar magic swept over her skin. Death whispering to death. She sensed Ingrid's attention on her before she turned and found those haunting eyes frustratingly unreadable. How the banshee did it, she didn't know. Ingrid inclined her head, saying nothing as she joined the table. Beside her, Loraina—the ever-elegant leader of the syrens—drummed her fingers against the table. A habit Aya knew she did whenever she was anxious, her mind elsewhere.

"The guards are reporting the barrier is stable," Loraina murmured. "So, it appears we're not about to all horribly die."

Aya turned and leaned against the window. The cold glass sent shivers rippling across her wings and down her spine. A welcome anchor against the tempest of her mind.

"And the crack?" Aya inquired.

Ryker, who sat at the end of the table, cleared his throat. "We don't know. I've reached out to the witch temple to see if they might assess it, but it will take time to get a reply."

"So, they haven't picked a replacement?"

Or, at least, one they've not admitted too and were keeping distance from the council.

Ryker's gaze flicked to Elaine for just a blink, but it was enough. She knew the gleam of a plan when she saw one, and there was no way in hell she was letting it happen.

Aya moved to Elaine's side, resting one hand on her shoulder. Wordlessly, Elaine returned the gesture. Ryker's expression shuttered—defeat, she hoped—and cleared his throat.

"The situation with the witch temple is complicated." He leaned forward, resting a closed fist on the table. "For now, your team is all we have. We need to assess how much damage Honoria did and how we might repair it."

At the other end of the table, Ingrid snorted softly; there was an edge to her voice, one Aya didn't know quite what to make of. "That's if it can even be done . "

"You doubt we can do it?" Aya returned evenly. "Or do you think your own spies could do a better job?"

"I have no doubt as to your ability, but we are all in over our heads. Up until recently, we believed this place to be a refuge gifted by the spirits. Now we know we are living in a prison, our magic used to keep this mystery goddess contained."

"And you wish to break the bars?"

"Hardly. Your kind weren't the only ones hunted by the Vesmir royal family. If the barrier falls and by some chance, we don't all die, then all those enemies we've been running from will come back to us."

Aya's heart stuttered at the mention of the royal family. Was this Ingrid trying to forge a connection to her? Share a similar trauma? If she was the mystery figure working with Honoria, it seemed too sloppy of an effort. That left her with Loraina—tirelessly devoted to her people but with no interest beyond them—and Ryker, who was the last person she would expect to risk his pack. He hadn't gone through all the shit with Tobias to risk his position barely five years later; no, he was an ass—perhaps even a monster like her—but he was loyal to his people, and to her frustration, the wider community of Purgatory.

Fucking hell. Her head was already throbbing trying to unravel the mess. She ached for the old days sometimes, simpler jobs that didn't leave the fate of so many hanging over her neck. This world ending business was exhausting.

Loraina cleared her throat. "We require you to figure out this matter and, if needed, heal the barrier. Whatever price you name, it's yours."

She didn't miss the way Ryker stiffened, his lip curling at the mention of money.

Aya slanted him a look to make sure he knew she saw it, then sat slowly. Her gaze drifted lazily across the table. "Money isn't needed; however, we will need access to everything you obtained from Honoria, Marisol, and Lilibet's residences."

"About that," said Loraina. "We were able to confiscate all of Marisol and Lilibet's possessions. However, all we could obtain from Honoria was from the ruins you were taken to. The witch temple is reluctant to hand over anything from her private study."

"Their reasoning?"

Loraina waved a hand. "They declined to give one."

Ryker pushed his chair back and stood. "Well, as fun as this whole mess is, I must return to my pack."

"Councilor Ryker, take a seat," Loraina ordered. "We're not done here."

"Yes, we are. Aya will take the job. I need to return to my pack. They're calling."

Tension thickened. Aya itched to tear it apart with her bare hands.

"Very well, but we will reconvene in two days." Loraina rose from her seat as Ryker headed out. When the door clicked shut, she looked at Aya. "We will have everything sent to your residence. If you could have someone meet us at the edge of your ward, that would be appreciated. As for Honoria—"

"Don't worry about it," Aya crooned. "I will handle it."

"You aren't exactly welcome there."

Ingrid chuckled. "I believe what Miss Sinclair is saying is that she will obtain the items, and it's probably for the best we do not question too deeply."

If anyone had asked her if she would've agreed to work for the council after recent events, she probably would've laughed in their faces. As it was, she still didn't know what to think about it. Luckily, the crowd outside the council building had dispersed. The empty street greeted them as they headed out.

She gently touched Tobias's arm, stopping him. "Are you coming back with us?"

"Later tonight. Alexios and I are heading back to the mansion. A meeting for his potential replacements." Tobias's gaze flicked to the building. "I don't like the feel of this."

"I doubt that feeling is going to abandon any of us any time soon," Aya muttered. She sighed deeply and rubbed the back of her neck. "Watch your backs. We're not out of the woods yet."

She watched them slip into a waiting carriage. When they were out of view, she joined Sabra and Elaine waiting for her in the middle of the street. Sabra was picking idly at her nails when she approached.

"Where to now?"

"Home. There we figure out our next move."

The house stirred awake as Aya slid from the bed in the middle of the night. Elaine mumbled something into the pillow, reaching out for her. Aya smiled as she grabbed her cloak and slipped out of the room. She crept down the creaking stairs as the house breathed and flexed around her, coming alive at her presence. The shadows stirred in her wake, extending out with twisted hands that danced over her skin. A shiver brushed across the nape of her neck, wriggling down her spine until it curled through her chest.

She grabbed her boots by the front door, tugging them on before she continued outside. The cold, crisp air pinched her cheeks red, and the rich earthy notes filled her chest. She kept her hood down as she moved into the forest. Leaves and twigs crunched a melody underfoot, tangling with the distant song of hunting owls. The forest came awake around her, and the dead, drawn to her, beckoned closer. They lingered at the edge of her vision, shimmering specters of light. Some whispered her name, while others stared with that same lost, yearning look in their eyes.

She wished she knew how to help them pass on, to offer them relief. The terrible truth laid bare before her every time she was alone in the woods.

Overhead, the crack in the sky speared the night with a spiderweb of light. It hadn't grown in the hours since, but she felt the stirring of ancient magic all the same. The way it clung to her bones and broken soul. She forced her gaze ahead, trying not to think about it, or the world outside waiting for her if they somehow survived it falling. She knew she wasn't the same helpless, powerless child anymore. Instead, she could—and so terrifyingly would—become the monster and lay waste to armies. But the idea of being out there, exposed once more, cut at the child deep within her, so frightened at being caught.

If death came again, she suspected she wasn't coming back.

She walked until she came to a small clearing cleaved by a bubbling brook. Water lapped over polished stones, gleaming like silver in the starlit night. She bent down and pulled off her boots, savoring the moment her feet sunk into the dew-touched grass.

She knelt by the brook and closed her eyes. All around her the dead beckoned closer, lingering at the tree line. Their whispers filled her ears, drowning out the forest.

In her mind's eye, the sight of Lilibet's execution bloomed into startling clarity. The stage, constructed of old wood, creaking in the wind. Lilibet marched to her death, eyes defiant, accepting of her fate. That final look to Aya that cut her to the very core of her soul. How she hadn't been able to draw a single breath as she watched the guard pull the handle. That she could only watch as someone she'd once considered family dropped to her death and hear as bone snapped, shattering like kindling.

She'd felt the exact moment Lilibet's soul jerked free of her body, watched as it fled into the distant woods. How a burst of raw magic exploded upwards, unlike anything she'd witnessed her friend wield before. She should've been focused on the light striking the barrier, but all her mind could focus on was Lilibet. At the body once so full of life, hanging there all bulging and blue, and the spirit that would wander the woods Aya called home.

Lilibet had explained why she'd done it, but Aya couldn't grasp it. Couldn't see why she hadn't come to her, nor where in all their time together had she gone so wrong. Where had she made her friend believe she wouldn't do whatever it took to send her home? How had she failed Lilibet so fucking badly?

A broken sound ruptured from her as her own heart split open. The single question roaring through her mind.

Why?

Why?

She doubled over and the sobs escaped her lips. Tears burned like molten metal down her skin as that gaping hole inside ripped open even wider. And all the grief and rage tore up her throat, spilling into the air, ripping her apart. She pressed her hands into the damp earth and unleashed a primal scream, as if all that she had endured and watched broke her apart even more.

And she couldn't stop. Couldn't fight the waves as they crashed over her, beating her down until she was begging the ground and darkness to swallow her whole.

She screamed until her throat was raw, her cheeks blistered from the tears until silence was all her body could manage.

A hand suddenly slid over her shoulder, bringing with it the warm and familiar hum of magic. She didn't fight as she was pulled into the warm, familiar chest, and sobbed silently, heaving the bitter air over her lips.

"Why?" she whispered hoarsely.

Elaine offered no answer, no words of comfort and for that she was glad. Aya surrendered to the small circles rubbed on the small of her back. When her body finally seemed to have run out of energy, and the ache took hold of her entire being, she closed her eyes. She ignored the dead watching her, the crack in the sky heralding a fate that struck terror through her, and the uncertainty of the future.

Aya turned her face into Elaine's shoulder and heaved a deep breath of her scent, savoring the way it flowed through her and wrapped her soul. A blanket against the cold and pain, a balm against the wounds.

And perhaps, someday, she didn't know when, those wounds might close.