Chapter 26

Karys

At first, the only thing I noticed were smells. Woodsmoke and dust. Melted candle wax and warm earth.

Then, the sensation of touch. Little by little, I managed to move my hands, fingers feeling across numb, tingling skin, trying to assess any damage I'd sustained.

Once I'd confirmed I was in one piece, with all limbs accounted for, I slid my hands down to the lumpy surface I rested upon—an old mattress? The sheets beneath me were worn and scratchy, but…familiar. Comforting. Warm.

All at once I realized: This smelled like my old house .

This felt like my old bed.

My old room.

And when I opened my eyes to confirm it, I realized I was not alone.

My sister sat in a rocking chair at the foot of the bed. A chair I recognized. One my father had made many years ago, before I was even born. It used to sit on the front porch.

But now it was here, cradling the unmistakable form of my sister.

My sister.

Her eyelids fluttered with restless sleep while her legs slowly pushed the chair back and forth.

Creeeeak.

Creeeeak.

I sat up. As the bed groaned under my weight, Savna's breath caught. Then it stopped altogether. Her heart still raced, though, pounding a frantic rhythm as she opened her eyes and fixed them on me.

We stared at one another for what felt like a lifetime.

My hand went to my neck, feeling for the spot where she'd stabbed me with…well, whatever the hell she'd stabbed me with. Something that had allowed her to carry me away from Mindoth, and then all the way back to our childhood home.

How long had I been asleep?

What had happened during that time?

And why had she brought me here , of all places?

She swallowed hard. "Karys, I can explain. I—"

"No," I whispered. "No, I don't think you can."

She got to her feet.

I did the same.

We stared for a second lifetime, our breaths growing scarce once more, our hearts both chanting to wrecked, uneven beats.

I backed up until my legs were flush against the bed. Pressed to the mattress, I realized how violently I was shaking.

Savna started to reach for me but drew her hand back just before it closed over mine. She pulled it into a fist and clutched it like a shield over her heart, watching me. Giving me space to speak, I guessed.

Where the hell was I supposed to start?

Inside, I was screaming. My questions, my accusations, my pain and uncertainty—all of it was so, so loud . All I wanted to do was get these things out of my head. I wanted to corner her, to shout until my lungs were sore and she was cowering, shrinking into nothing the way I'd wanted to do so many times since losing her.

But when words finally made it out, they were quiet. Broken. Spoken in the voice of a younger me—the me she'd left behind five years ago.

"You're… alive ."

Her hand fell from her chest. She took a step toward me. I was still backed against the bed with nowhere to go, so I simply stood, stiff and uncomfortable, as she wrapped her arms around me.

I couldn't bring myself to hug her back.

For so many years, I would have given anything for the chance to embrace her again. But now my arms wouldn't even move. No part of me would move, save for my mouth.

"You've been alive this entire time," I whispered, still in disbelief.

A long, awful pause, and then she gave the barest of nods. Her dark hair brushed against my cheek as she did, sending her familiar fragrance washing over me. Little had changed about it, even after all this time. She was still soft earth and overgrown grass, because she was never inside long enough to fully shed these wild scents from her skin. There was a hint of something woodsy, too, along with subtle notes of flowers and herbs from the tea she was always drinking or making for someone else.

She was still so close. I couldn't breathe without inhaling all these reminders of her. I felt like I was suffocating.

Finally, she took a step back.

Still staring.

Still not speaking.

"Savna… how could you ?"

She flinched as though I was speaking much louder, only to quickly collect herself and step farther away from me. Smoothing a wrinkle from the hem of her shirt, her eyes on it instead of my face, she calmly replied, "How could I what?"

Again, I didn't know where to start.

"How could I not have told you about the trip I took to the divine realm, you mean?" She continued to back away, hitting the chair in the process and sending it toppling to the ground. She left it overturned as she walked to the window, hands tapping together with soft, rhythmic claps. She always used to do that when she was anxious or agitated.

Such a small movement, but for some reason it made the whole scene that much more impossible to deny—because here was more painful proof that this was Savna, not some cruel imposter.

Clap.

Clap.

Clap.

"How could I have abandoned you?" She turned my way but still didn't meet my gaze. She looked everywhere, anywhere else—to the faded red rug; the shelves filled with books and stacks of recipes I'd planned to try; the tattered curtains glowing soft and pink in the sunlight.

Her beautiful blue eyes were wide and haunted, as if she was watching the ghosts of our past flicker around us. She couldn't seem to look away from them.

"How could I have let you believe I was dead for so long?" she whispered, more to herself than me.

I braced a hand against one of the bed's posts.

" How could I ?" Her gaze finally alighted on mine. She inhaled, shoulders shaking from the effort of it, and said, "Because it wouldn't have been safe for me to come back to you. I wasn't safe. Not after what I'd done."

I gripped the post so tightly I lost feeling in my hand.

"For years, I have been hiding from more than just you. I've been underground, building a movement, sharing what I'd taken from the gods and spinning it into something like hope for our kind. And now, we have enough power for us to take a stand, to rise up from the ashes…" She spoke quickly, face flushed, the way she'd always talked of her grand, rebellious dreams. It was easy to get caught up in the passion she exuded. Or it had been, once upon a time.

So little had changed on the surface. But underneath…

Underneath, it felt like everything had.

"But now," she continued, "I felt as though I could finally make myself known, and one of the first things I set out to do was find you. My life—and my plans for it—are still not safe, but the future is finally clear, and I knew you would want to fight alongside me to help secure that future."

She walked slowly back to my bed. Picked up the chair she'd knocked over and carefully placed it upright, bracing her hands against its backing as she continued, "But what did I find upon resurfacing? That I was very nearly too late. That the gods had taken you hostage."

"I…I wasn't a hostage. I went to the divine realm willingly, same as you did. And I—"

"I've heard the story."

"I doubt it was the whole story."

She continued as though I hadn't spoken: "I regret not intervening sooner. I should have known you'd follow in my footsteps. You always did, didn't you? Even when I made you swear you wouldn't." Her smile was fond. Genuine.

For some reason, the sight of it made me feel like I'd been kicked in the stomach.

"I went to Nerithyl like you did, that's true, but…" My eyes strayed to the curtains and stayed there. Their rosy glow reminded me of the way the forgelights diffused into the middle-heaven sky.

"But what?"

I forced my attention back to her. "But we didn't find the same things in that place."

She studied me for a long time. Folded her arms across her chest and walked to the window I'd been staring at, leaning against the wall next to it and studying it closely, as if trying to see what I'd been seeing.

Her brow furrowed. Her voice was strained as she said, "Right. I heard you were using magic against some of our soldiers in Ederis—and then you used it in Mindoth, too. The gods gave it to you, of course. And I'm guessing they forced you to do their bidding with it. The hierarchy of divine power, still alive and well."

Anger heated my skin. Not just anger at her, but at myself—because she was saying exactly what I would have said months ago. How could I convincingly argue against something I'd spent most of my life believing?

I didn't know.

But I had to try.

"They didn't force me to take anything, or to become anything I didn't want to be," I told her. "The God of Fire gave me the powers I have to save my life. More than once, the Marr saved my life, in fact, and they—"

"The gods don't save lives. They only destroy them."

Her voice was so cold—so unlike the sister I remembered—that I was too shocked to respond right away.

"It may look like the former, at first," she went on, "but there is always a catch. Some price they don't tell you up front." Her voice softened. "Come on, Karys. You're smarter than this."

The softer tone made me even angrier; she was speaking to me as if I was the same person she'd abandoned all those years ago. Like I was a child, not a goddess with fire in my veins.

That fire was starting to get restless, eager to make itself known.

As it rose to the surface, however, I noticed something felt… off about it.

The lingering effects of whatever she'd injected into my neck, maybe, combined with my separation from Dravyn. Effects that could very well become more debilitating with each moment I spent trapped here, away from the rest of my divine family.

"Why did you bring me to this place?" I demanded.

"Because." She sucked in a deep breath. "I thought it might be…soothing, for us to return to a simpler time. And to a place where we wouldn't be interrupted. This smaller area was easier to wrap in protection, too."

It took a moment for the meaning behind her words to sink into my overwhelmed mind. "So there are wards of some kind around this house and its boundaries, too?"

"Of course there are." Her tone was perfectly even. Perfectly unapologetic. "I've witnessed enough destruction from the gods—I didn't want them or their monsters crashing in and destroying my chance to actually speak with you after all these years."

"You're worried about the destruction the gods have caused?" Seething, I asked, "And what about the lives you've destroyed? The humans you've killed? The damage you did to Mindoth with your bombs, and the ones you killed in Ederis before that—I saw you playing executioner for those men on the platform, you know."

I swallowed several times, trying to keep my throat open as it threatened to swell shut. I licked my painfully cracked and dry lips, took several deep, steadying breaths—but nothing I did helped the words I wanted to say make it out.

Savna's voice softened again as she said, "What do you know of the ones we put to death in Ederis?"

She waited patiently, until I finally managed to cough up a response. "I know you smiled when you swung the blade."

"Because the people of Ederis needed to see a confident leader."

"They needed to see you murder humans? People who likely had families and—"

"They stole from our storehouses. And what they couldn't steal, they destroyed through fire and poison. They also murdered three guards in the process. So hardly what I would call innocent souls . I didn't enjoy putting my blade through their necks, but I know how to put on an act when needed. And our followers needed that show of confidence after weeks of dealing with losses at the hands of human-kind."

My throat closed up even tighter than before.

"We're just trying to survive, Ryssy."

"Don't call me that." The words hissed out of me before I could stop them. "I'm not a child. I don't need a childish nickname."

"Right. Sorry." She started to brush her hands together but stopped herself, clenching them into fists instead. "You understand, though, don't you? We have a right to fight back. To survive. To maybe, someday, find a way back to an existence that's more than just surviving. And I thought that you and I…that together we could…"

The trailing hint of hope in her voice was the most painful part of this ordeal yet. To know that I couldn't share the weight of that hope, no matter how badly she wanted me to. No matter how badly I'd wanted to, once upon a time.

The words hurt, like they were wrapped in thorns that caught on the swollen walls of my throat, but I forced a reply out: "I'm not interested in fighting that war with you anymore."

"…I see," was all she said.

But the question lingering in her gaze was easy enough to read: Whose side are you on?

I still didn't know how to answer that.

I just knew I couldn't think clearly in this house. Even if the wards had not been wrapped around it. Even if she hadn't poisoned me. Even if Dravyn and his magic had not been so far away. Even then, I suspected I wouldn't have been able to.

Because I no longer belonged here.

And the longer I stayed, the more unbalanced I feared I would become—and what would happen if I remained trapped here? I didn't know what Dravyn would do to get back to me. What fires he would set or what battles he would wage.

Nothing that would help settle the wars building around us, I guessed.

"You have to let me go," I said. "I have to return to the divine realm. I have to let the rest of my court know that I'm safe, or else…"

Her expression hardened so swiftly, so violently, that it made my heart skip several beats. "Or else what ?"

"It's just—"

"What have they told you?" she asked. "That you'll be punished if you don't come back to them when they call? Like a dog, beaten for refusing to heel?"

"It's not like that. You've got it all wrong, again."

"Or maybe they'll take out their disappointment on the mortal realm instead? How very like our revered gods , to throw a fit when they aren't the ones controlling the show."

I couldn't refute this point, I realized, so I simply sank back onto the bed, clenching my hands into the scratchy sheets.

Savna turned away, muttering, "Let them come get you if they value you so much."

Who's holding who hostage, now? I wanted to snap.

It wouldn't have solved anything between us, though, so I held my tongue.

Her back remained to me. I noticed then that the door to the hallway was open. It would have been easy enough to make a run for it. But how far could I get in my current state? And how dangerous were the wards wrapped around the perimeters of this house?

Before I could decide whether or not to chance it, she spoke again: "Do you know what I risked to go to Mindoth and find you? All the others were against it. We had other things, bigger things, to focus on, aside from you. But when I realized you would be there, I could think only of rescuing you .

"And I'm sorry I didn't find a way to reach you sooner, but that doesn't change the fact that we're finally together, now. That's what matters. You're safe. Whatever it takes to heal you from whatever the gods have done to you, whatever you need—I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

I held more tightly to the sheets in my fists, trying to breathe normally over the massive lump that had formed in my throat.

I'm right here .

I'd had dreams like this.

In between my many, many nightmares, occasionally there would be one like this, where my sister found me. There was light. Warmth. Her voice comforting me as I trembled. These were the good dreams, I'd always thought—the kind I held on to for strength, for hope, for clarity.

But now I was living one such dream, and there was no denying it felt more like a nightmare.

Quietly, I said, "I didn't need rescuing." She opened her mouth to argue, but I continued without giving her the chance: "And just because we're together again doesn't mean we're a family again."

Though they were true, I wanted to take the words back the instant they slipped past my lips.

But the damage had already been done.

Savna's face fell, whatever argument she'd been preparing dying a cold, silent death. Her face paled, her expression turned stony. Like a gravestone marking yet another loss between us. She muttered something about needing to go send a message to someone. Then she was gone again, tapping her hands softly together as she left.

Clap.

Clap.

Clap.

And just like that, I was alone.

I sank down to the floor and cried until I ran out of breath.

At some point, I must have drifted off, because I opened my eyes to the sight of moonbeams spilling across my bedroom, reaching toward my outstretched hand, but not quite touching it.

I was still on the floor. I'd pulled my sheets from the bed. They were tangled around me, cocooning me in a feeling of safety. I'd often slept that way as a child—wrapped so tightly I could hardly move—and some part of my mind must have longed for that safe surrender.

Foolish mind.

I fought my way upright and peeled the sheets from my body. Rubbing my eyes, I took in my surroundings. The shelves and curtains and the few meager trinkets my younger self had prized were reduced to figures casting strange, jumbled shadows against the walls.

As I stared at them, a flood of emotions rose in my chest, choking the breath from my lungs.

I couldn't stay in this room for another second.

After grabbing my coat and boots from the corner chair and pulling them on, I silently made my way into the narrow hallway. What had felt so small and cozy when I was younger now felt massive—a cold, yawning abyss that seemed unending.

But I could traverse it easily enough. Quietly enough. I was out of tears to cry, so the ache in my chest and the burning in my lungs could proceed in silence.

As I'd done so often when growing up, I would make no noise, alert no one to my presence.

I knew all the places the floor would creak. The layout of things was still familiar, too, as large and twisting as it all felt in this moment. I could navigate even as my mind battled with other things.

I sensed my sister in her familiar place, too—in the small study beside the kitchen.

After our father died and our mother left, Savna had taken to sitting in that room most nights, hunched over the desk making lists and notes, counting what little money we had and devising the smartest ways to spend it. Praying to the gods for more. Cursing at them when they didn't answer. Trying to figure out how we were going to make ends meet. Some nights she didn't leave that room at all and I would wake the next morning to find her passed out in the tattered armchair in the corner, often clutching a wineskin to her chest.

I couldn't resist peeking inside that room as I passed it now.

And there she was, asleep in the expected chair.

I eyed the blanket that had fallen into a dark pile at her feet. When I was younger, that was part of my ritual on those cold, lonely mornings: I would cover her up and let her sleep in while I quietly did my best to create breakfast out of whatever scraps I could find in our kitchen.

Tonight I walked on, even though my knees threatened to buckle as I did.

The wind howled outside, rattling the walls. Though the old house was relatively well-insulated, I felt as if I wasn't—like I'd been left hollowed after all the tears I'd cried, and now the cold cut straight through even the fine coat Rieta had made for me, driving right into my bones.

I couldn't stop shaking.

None of the fireplaces I passed were lit. Firewood had not been particularly easy to come by when I was growing up, and we had always used it sparingly, even on the coldest nights; I could still hear my mother's voice demanding us not to waste it. I wondered what my family would think if they were all here now, confronting the goddess I'd become. I wasn't thinking of the complications of my existence in that moment—only the fact that my magic could have kept us all warm.

As I made my way toward the back door, guided by memory more than sight, I half-expected to hear more familiar voices from my childhood echoing around me. I paused on the threshold, listening for them. Whether hoping for or dreading the sound…I wasn't sure.

I heard nothing, either way. It was just me and my sister here, I was certain—at least until I stepped outside for a breath of fresh air, caught a familiar scent, and realized I was wrong.

I was not alone.