3. Maeve

3

Maeve

" I believe it's time we talked."

Maeve tried to summon flame, to bring some light to the darkness, but cold bit down on her wrist, the metal of the bracelet like ice. She tried to find the mind of the one who spoke but that, too, brought a pain like sharp blades into her hand, stabbing upward toward her head. She pulled back from her attempts, and the sensation eased.

The voice laughed. "Ingenious, what these Fae will get up to. Especially one who was exiled so long as Icarus."

Her head was swimming with the memories which had just flashed before her, that she had just, in part, relived in its entirety. Her body was trembling, and all around her, slithering like dead leaves on asphalt, was the sound of the Nyx.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

"Bring her to me."

The order was casual, but the moment those words fell, Maeve was seized by clawed and taloned Nyx hands, her knee scraping stone as she was deposited without ceremony some distance from where she had started.

How big is this place? She wondered, sitting up again and trying in vain to pick out any shapes in the inky dark.

Something brushed her hair, and she jerked back, the laughter flowing around her rich, merciless, and so much closer than before. "Oh, niece, you never cease to entertain."

"You call me that," she said, her voice a rasp of misuse. "Who are you?"

"You know me." The voice was gently chiding. "Think very, very hard."

The condescension was also clear as a bell. Maeve ground her teeth, and her thoughts flew to the night outside the Temple of the Four Brothers in Cresna. Seeing the faces and images of the gods carved as high as twenty feet above her. One held a golden sun, one a flowering vine, then there was the staff of blue flames held by her father, and finally the one with the coil of rope. The features there had been difficult to tell, the statue carved of the deepest obsidian-colored stone, but she knew the name.

And the term ‘niece' made all the more sense now.

"You're Ninack," she said, her voice still raw. "The god of darkness."

"Yes," he purred, so close she could feel his breath. "And you have long traversed my realm, Maeve Almeida, daughter of Lutem, who you call Ankou. Do you know how long I waited for my brother to have issue? You are the rarest of them all. The others? It was easy to collect from them. Light and Life, especially, they cannot help but spread their seed far and wide. I had to wait eons for you."

Maeve went for her magic again, pulling for it with the same habitual need as drawing breath. The bracelet cut into her and she hissed, cradling her arm to her chest.

Fingers brushed through her hair and she went still, fear chilling her blood.

"There. You have known my touch, niece, though you may not have understood it for what it was. You have lived beside me for years."

"And you show yourself now?"

"Well, now you're more interesting," he said with a laugh, a sharp tug on her locks making her wince. "Now that you've at least partway come into your godhead. What a display that was, last night, you and your enemy. I was there, watching."

Maeve shuddered. "I should—could have banished Sebastian."

"Could have, but didn't. No. You chose obliteration. A nice touch." He plucked her arm away from her chest, pulling it straight upward. She rose to her knees so he did not jerk it out of its socket. "Time for you to show me your skills."

The bracelet snapped, and a moment later Maeve breathed in—magic. Power.

It came from within, filling her like a wellspring, easing her aches and, with a slight push, she brought forth the blue flames, keeping them low and constrained to her fingertips.

The Nyx hissed, withdrawing from the sudden light, but Maeve was all eyes for the god who held her tight.

He was made of the stuff between the stars. A void, an absence, that the longer she stared at the more consuming seemed. As though he were drawing her in like some black hole. Even her flames wavered toward him.

Ninack let her go, and she dropped back on her rear, the flames snuffing out. She was grateful for the darkness, now. It was not so terrible as it was to behold that—being.

"Terrible am I?" he laughed again. "I am everywhere. I am within you. How can you call that terrible?"

Maeve breathed, and felt the bond opening up within her, felt something indescribable seem to reach through, and then Ninack clicked his tongue.

"I think not, niece. Not that." And he pressed a finger to her forehead.

Maeve sucked in a breath as the bond was just as suddenly gone, root and stem. As though it had never been.

Gasping, near-choking as her breathing sped, Maeve tried to reach for it again. There had been something so strange about it this time, but it had still been him, Rodan. She had sensed him, even for a moment.

He's alive , she thought. I know that, at least.

But no matter how she tried, there was nothing else. Her own psychic powers were stretching and remembering themselves, like muscles long in disuse, the minds of the Nyx and their Queen coming into sharp focus. She could also sense that depth of power within her Ninack spoke of. That stuff which came from her father. All the vast power from which she drew forth the blue fire, and how she had ripped Sebastian's soul from his body.

She looked for Ninack's now.

He laughed again, this time so sudden and with such abandon that she pulled back, shocked. "You think to pull my soul out, little one? I am more than what a soul contains, and just as eternal. Your fire could hurt me, yes, but it will not kill me nor would it tear me from existence."

This time he gripped her face, holding her still. The power in his hands seemed to radiate outward, and she could tell he could crush her. Easily. Take all she was and obliterate this mortal shell to dust.

She trembled.

"You are no match against me. You feel that don't you?"

His voice was soothing.

Maeve did not answer.

"The Nyx brought you here at my behest," he said. "They may not have been born out of my realm, but they found solace and refuge there. They do as I ask, now, instead of listening to your father."

Maeve's brow furrowed. "What do you?—"

"You don't know your father very well, do you?" He clicked his tongue and moved away again. "Lutem has been assigned several tasks, and he created the Nyx to help him."

The Nyx around her shuddered and sighed. The Queen, high above, was restless.

The voice of Ninack was like the darkness. Cool and forbidden. "When a world dies, what do you think consumes it? Sometimes it is sudden, obliteration. The nova. Others, the slow decay. Entropy. But when your father is impatient, he sends the Nyx."

They moved around her, so many of them. She could sense thousands—maybe tens of thousands—of minds.

"Especially for those civilizations that are just going through the motions. A rotting corpse. What a waste. Then the Nyx are able to feast. Or, at least, they did." He paused, and she knew he was closer. Possibly within reach. "And when they dared ask for more meaning, he swatted them down. When they sought me, I gave them the purpose they so richly deserve. I can give you the same blessing, niece."

Chills ran down her back. "I don't need a purpose from you." Her mouth was full of the taste and smell of the Nyx, and her own fresh blood from cracking lips. "Give him back."

Ninack laughed. "You speak of Rodan? He is no longer yours. You will never feel the bond again."

Her gut clenched. "You can't do that?—"

"Did you think it unbreakable? No, dear niece. Now." There were fingers in her hair again, pulling slightly. "What of your other gifts, hm? Will you not show me again those beautiful flames?"

More shudders down her spine, and Maeve had a sudden feeling summoning her fire was something he wanted her to do. For reasons she did not understand, but the intuition was enough to stay her from doing just that, and to still her tongue.

A sigh, this time originating from behind her. The grip on her hair disappeared. "Pity. Tell me, niece, do you know why the Nyx are here, specifically? Why I have them nest in your precious Realms?"

Maeve did not know, but wondered.

"They are here for you. To wait for the last of the links I need to forge the chain of Ascension."

"What?" Maeve asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Why?" She remembered Rodan saying he met them as he first explored this world, which had been over a thousand years before. How was it that they were waiting for her all this time?

"There is something quite special about this world, and it calls to those of you who are of the divine. Perhaps it because the predominant religion is so close to the truth of things though, like them all, it is not wholly correct."

More movement as he circled her.

"This planet is alive, yes, and the magic at work here, it allows the Nyx to create more of herself. Each of those changed is like a clone from the mother Queen above you. They can only change the very young, or those already partway there, as you are. Be grateful, niece, for unlike Rizor and Tegal's get, you will not be sealed in stone."

Frustration was growing, and again, she was tempted to summon her fire, but she could almost feel the press of Ninack's desire for her to do so. She held back.

"The Nyx Queen requires at least one of you to be the one to marshal the forces of the Nyx, to continue the work we started together." He sounded as though he were lecturing her, and his voice was moving around all the while in a slow circle. "You were the most obvious choice. Daughter of Death. You have one foot in their world already. And how long we waited for you."

Maeve looked up into the void, and reached out with her senses. What she felt brought tears to her eyes. "She's dying." Her voice, strained still, contained a plea.

"And you will take her place," he said, sounding near-giddy with excitement. "You will ensure they live on, and as such you will be at the head of the horde of my army. A general-Queen to millions."

Maeve went utterly still, and a part of her scrambled for the bond, throwing wide everything within her that she could sense insofar as magical ability. "I can't be a Nyx queen," she said. "I'm not like them at all. Please," she begged. "This is wrong."

"It has long been waiting for you," he sang. "But not before I get what I need."

Her chest tightened, and her stomach bottomed out. This was always what it came to. She was something to be extracted from. Everyone reached in their hands and pulled out the pieces they wanted. And now her uncle would do the same.

"Don't be like that," Ninack chided. "You are about to gain more than you can imagine. I ask for so little. Just give me your fire."

Maeve felt an overwhelming wave of exhaustion. Of course. It was what she had been suspecting for a while now. "I don't know how," she said weakly.

"Bring the flames forth and I will do the rest," he said. "Then you will have peace with the Nyx. That I can swear. You will never know such peace. You will belong, utterly, to the darkness, and we to you. You want that."

She shook her head, knowing that he could probably see her, even when she had little sense of her surroundings, only direction and a feel of the massive space. There was the smell of fresh water, but that was under the near-overwhelming stench of the Nyx—burning black oil and old blood. There were so many of them. All of them had their attention on her and Ninack. The Queen as well, watching from high above.

She was massive. She sprawled the width and length of the entire chamber.

Maeve had said yes to her, to them. She remembered that, and the Nyx had been quick to remind her as they viewed her memories. She had said yes. They would hear no other answer now.

Ninack was a purring voice in the dark, like how a panther would sound if it could speak with a human tongue. "Give me your fire, little one."

"Why?"

She felt as though she kept asking that one question, but so much did not make sense to her.

"I aim to win, sweet niece, in the only game that has ever mattered. And your fire is one of the final links to forge a chain, where once I had only a coil of rope. Where once I only had my own abilities to lean on. You will help me become what they all long to be.

"I am the Darkness. I am the before and the after, the in between. I, more than any of the others, am suited to rule."

Her head was spinning. "You want to rule—what? The gods themselves?"

Ninack's laugh was her confirmation.

Chills wracked her. She longed for warmth, for some measure of comfort.

The Nyx seemed to press against her mind, offering just that. Their presence was cold but solid. They seemed to whisper to her, even as the god growled, "Leave her be." Then, to her, "You cannot have them until you give me what I want."

Maeve was silent, reaching out with all her other senses, her magic. Lives sprang into her mind, little fish and insects in the stream glowing golden and silver to her eye. The Nyx, black edged in crimson. But no matter how far she expanded, she could not seem to get beyond the walls of the chamber.

She could not get to him. To Rodan. She had no idea where he was, but he was nowhere near.

"Perhaps I've been too kind," Ninack said. "Do you need a demonstration of how cruel a god can be, niece?"

Fingers threaded through her hair and pulled tight, drawing her head back. She gasped, and he grasped her jaw in his other hand. The grip was steel, bruising.

"I know you believe yourself to be alone, but there are those close to your heart." He said, anger for the first time evident in his tone. "Should I begin with Pike, or Troy? Here, see what I can do."

He released her, throwing her back, and as she collided with the ground she saw a vision in her mind like the news reels before old films, one scene jumping into the next, all silent. She saw Pike speared through the back, blood trickling from the corners of his mouth. Saw Troy slumped over their dinner table, their face purple, eyes bloodshot and red. And then there was Jen, dragged with mouth open in constant, soundless screams into an enormous pyre, where her skin began to blister, then blacken and split as she thrashed.

Maeve cried out, "No!" She swore she could still smell scorched flesh. "Please, no, don't hurt them."

"I would do more than hurt, niece. I am in the heart of all creatures, in the deepest recesses of their minds, and I am capable of moving others to action. I can make the kernel of a thought into a roaring need. Do not underestimate me."

She was shaking so hard, her teeth were chattering. The Nyx, the ones she could still sense, seemed alarmed.

"Do not make me ask again."

There was no mercy in that voice now, and Maeve knew any hesitation might cost her the life of her friends, but— "Promise me you won't hurt them. If I give you my fire, promise me you won't hurt those close to me."

Ninack made an impatient noise. "Very well. You have my word, niece, I will not harm those so envisioned, but give me your fire."

She wanted to argue for more. Rodan had not been among those the god had showed her, but?—

"I grow weary of waiting. I think I'll start with… Jennifer Casper, shall we?"

The flames burst into being, so fast it blinded Maeve, and Ninack crowed.

The void reached for her. Plucked at the fire with tendrils and fingers of shadow, in the same way one might gather up strands of hair for an intricate braid. Then Ninack pulled, and Maeve cried out, feeling a tug from deep within her. "What?—"

"Do you think it merely fire?" The figure before her called as it tugged the fire into a glowing arc, whipping it through the air before the last of it snagged on that same something from her innermost being.

She could not see his expression, but she knew Ninack was smiling as he gave a final, hearty tug.

Maeve fell forward, choking, blood and vomit on her tongue. There was an emptiness inside of her. A void where once there had been an ocean. He took it all.

We are still with you, the Nyx whispered in her mind, and she knew that part of her remained whole, but?—

So much was missing. She was hollowed out. Gasping with the lack.

"It is the manifestation of your godhead, niece," Ninack lectured, the whip of flame becoming a ball held between two hands. As she watched, he shaped it, creating an ingot of living blue-white flame which, once made, he tucked away into the folds of billowing robes.

They were plunged into darkness once more, but not before Maeve noticed the Nyx moving in, reaching for her. "The part of you which was divine. But no more. The Nyx will have at the rest of you and then," he clicked his tongue. "Well. At least you won't become an unsightly pair of statues."

Sharp-edged limbs touched hers, and she closed her eyes. She could sense them as close as a lover now, crowding in. You said yes.

She had said yes.

"One last thing, Nyx. That mark of mine will erode with time. In order to keep her from the bond, she needs another one of these."

Maeve saw nothing, but felt movement, and when a biting cold bracelet snapped around her wrist, she near wept from the loss of the rest of her abilities. Everything had been snuffed out, again.

She was just Maeve Almeida.

Nothing. I'm nothing.

No, the Nyx crooned, as Ninack laughed, as his voice faded and then disappeared, and all she felt, saw, heard was the horde.

You will become us.

We will be eternal.