Chapter 7

Chapter

Seven

AGATHA

" H ullo, little ghoul darlings."

Agatha knelt amongst the whorling shadows that were swishing her skirts, and a giggle blossomed from her. Oddly enough, the Netherrealm felt familiar, in more than just the fact she'd visited it once before—by poisoning herself with nightshade berries in the Spring to make it there.

When she finally stood, Grimm was watching her, his face unreadable. A wistful sorrow filled her veins from him, and her smile faded.

"They remember you," was all he said.

"They swarmed me when I was here before."

Heaviness shrouded him as much as the smog. "Little witch, this will not be an easy endeavour."

"I know. "

"Some of these memories in my head… They're unbearable in their sweetness. That is why I haven't told you of them. I could never do them justice by explanation, but I can assure you that the moment they fade, there is a sorrow that lingers." Shoving his fingers through his wild hair, he sighed. "I'm not sure it will ever go away. Other memories are painful for the truth they hold. I–"

"Grimm." Agatha halted him. "I feel what you feel. Though I can't see the memories through you, I have some semblance of an idea of what I'm walking into. I know there is an intimacy with Chresedia—Athania—far past the eight years I spent with her as Sybil." An involuntary shiver raked down her spine at the abusive memories. "I've at least deduced that we started all of this."

He attempted a snort, but it fell flat. "Listen to you, sounding like Seleste." Offering her a weak smile, Grimm clasped her hand and led her further into the darkness. "I do really enjoy talking with your Sister Summer. Her mind is something not of this world, I would swear it."

"She's always been like that, even as a child."

"I would have loved to see that. I'm curious how her Order from Talan fits into all of this. Hades," he grunted, "I'm curious how Talan fits into all of this."

Thick dread unfurled in Agatha's gut. "At the shop of Louis the Deranged in Eldritch…" Her voice trailed off, and they stopped. "Chresedia said she infiltrated our lineage long ago . Do you think she meant Talan?"

No fewer than four very uniquely colourful curses spewed from Grimm's mouth. "The thought has crossed my mind."

"She took Sybil's body, after all. Sorscha has it in her mind that our Mother manipulated the Grimoire, but I feel in my bones all of this was Chresedia."

"After the memories I've seen, I'm inclined to agree." His face betrayed all of the twisted, warring emotions she could already feel within the bond. "There is one thing I need you to know before we go through the Veil to Achlys."

Agatha nodded, steeling her nerves. Would he reveal something about her? About their children?

"There was more than just an intimacy with Athania. She was your dearest friend. More akin to a sister."

A lump formed in Agatha's throat, but she nodded several times, blinking tears away. Somehow, she'd suspected it wasn't just an intimate knowledge of who Athania was, but it was still difficult to process. To process that this woman, this Goddess of War, who had wrecked her life multiple existences over, had once been called a friend. A sister.

Wordlessly, Grimm squeezed her hand and led them forward toward the soft edges of light gleaming from the portal ahead.

Orrick approached—the gruff, disrespectful reaper she'd encountered during her last trek through the Netherrelam. "To Achlys, Prince of Bone?" he asked after bowing low.

Grimm gave a curt nod. "I'll send us through the Veil, though, Orrick."

Dejected, the reaper gave another bow and darted off into the shadows. Once they were alone again in the smog, save for the glowing soul orbs surrounding Grimm, he bent down to whisper in her ear. "The most odious reaper of them all, that one."

She had to admit that had been her first impression of him as well, and it did cause a smile to tug at her lips—his intention, she assumed. "You can get us through the Veil, hm?"

Mocking offence, Grimm scoffed, then blew a breath past his lips until they sputtered. "We'll see, now won't we?"

At the very least, he'd known where the Veil was and easily led them there. Letting his mortal flesh fall away to stand in his reaper form, it occurred to Agatha that he no longer had to say his true name in order to shift.

Lifting one skeletal hand to the shimmering portal, Grimm said nothing. His power was so unlike that of witchcraft… No, witches didn't have to vocalise spells as mages did, but most elected to do so. The ceremony of it all was comforting and a power all its own. But Grimm exuded power once he'd learned to let some of it free. She didn't for a moment think he'd unleashed all of it, but it was a start. The fact that a portion of it could cause thunderous storms was startling and thrilling, though she didn't know why it surprised her, considering he was a god.

Or he used to be. They used to be.

It was a peculiar and wholly un thrillling fact. She was no goddess, not anymore. Her magic was no stronger than her Sisters' was. Was it? Arielle's assessment came back to her in a rush. Agatha and Grimm had left their place in The Primordial Void for some reason long, long ago. The question that was driving her mad was why ? Why leave when Lady Death had said it was Grimm who had thrown Athania out of realm after realm? Why give up their status and power?

It was infuriating to know that millennia of memories were out of her reach. But that was why they had come to Achlys in the first place: to put some missing pieces in place.

Grimm's hand disappeared through the Veil, and he turned to her displaying as much of a smirk as a skull can manage. She followed him through the portal, her jaw going slack the moment she made it through. They stood in an ebony marvel of a room. Most would have gone wide-eyed over the gargantuan bed of ornately carved onyx. Or, perhaps, the glittering chandelier and velvety night-sky ceiling. But, no, Agatha was immediately captivated by the balcony encircling the room, for it held aloft a wonder of bookshelves, surrounding them with an almost endless supply of beautiful books.

"Welcome back to Achlys, little witch," Grimm whispered next to her ear.

Agatha spun in a small circle, taking it all in. When she stopped, Grimm made to wrap his skeletal arm around her waist, but he went straight through her, cursing as she looked down at her non-corporeal body. "Ah yes, I'm the ghoul in Achlys," she mused. "Remember?"

"Nonsense. This is your home, too."

She watched as he regarded her, mind spinning behind his skull. The moment he landed on an idea, she felt it in the bond before he opened his jaw. "Hold still."

"Uh oh."

"Don't uh oh me, just hush and hold still."

Looking up at him as he towered over her, Agatha couldn't help but smile. He was right. This would be a difficult journey through time for them, but she was anxious to see this man in all the lives they'd shared. Suddenly, she felt a little tug. "Ow!" Like a pinch or a hair being pulled out.

Grimm said nothing, but she watched in astonishment as a glowing, golden tendril of something floated between them. It was night and day, light and dark, magic and death incarnate— woven up like the single, original thread holding a tapestry together.

"Is that…" she whispered.

"Our bond," he confirmed.

Wordlessly, Grimm plucked at the bond as a harpist would pluck at his strings. It was a delicate yet determined motion that resulted in shards of shimmering magic floating off, coalescing into something. It wasn't until he was almost done that Agatha realised it was a crown. Gently, he placed the gleaming thing atop her head—a reaper crowning his witch. This time, with a solid diadem as opposed to the one of smoke and shadow he'd used to show her who she was—Asteria, Lady Magic, the Goddess of Witches.

"Two crowns," Grimm mused as she solidified, no longer a phantom. "Two kingdoms."

But Agatha wasn't listening. The moment she became flesh and blood within The Void-realm of Achlys, flashes of memories began to assault her until she doubled over, clutching at her temples.

"Agatha!" Grimm shifted out of his reaper form and crouched in front of her. "What is it? Can you hear me?"

"Yes, I can godsdamned hear you, reaper!" She groaned, rolling over onto her side on the shiny floor that reflected the night sky ceiling. Or was it also the sky? It felt like a dark cloud. Oh gods , the effect was even more dizzying. The torrents of intense memories finally slowed down. She groaned and sat up, a hand to her forehead. "What in Hades did you do to me in this room?"

He looked affronted. "Me? What just happened to you? What was that? "

"Evidently, that was the memory infusion of every salacious thing you have ever done to me in this room."

Grimm's face slid from concern to shock to amusement in the span of a blink, and he barked a laugh. "Well, we did supposedly spend millennia in this room together."

"Remind me that we must recreate a few of those scenarios, hm?" She gestured sloppily to the balcony, still woozy. "In particular, one to do with the balcony bannister."

A lascivious smile plastered itself across Grimm's face as he helped her up. "Don't have to tell me twice."

A knock sounded at the door, and Grimm steadied Agatha before striding to open it.

They were met with Lady Death bustling in, midnight skirts in hand and the warmest of smiles adorning her beautiful face.

"Nyxia," Grimm greeted her, planting a kiss on her hand.

"My darlings. Both of you, here in Achlys." Her eyes were filling with tears, and it struck Agatha as odd. She'd never considered the gods and goddesses might have the same span of emotions as mortals. Though it made sense if she and Thanasim had loved and had children .

"Finally," Lady Death went on, "The Void feels right again. You're home ."

"Not for very long, I'm afraid. We're only here to remember more and return."

"Of course," Nyxia conceded. "Shall we have some tea?" She glanced at a large hourglass hanging from the ceiling. "Or perhaps a meal?"

Grimm looked to Agatha, silently leaving it up to her. "If it's all the same to you, Lady Death?—"

"Nyxia, please. We are not strangers, as you will soon recall."

"Right. And if it's all the same to you, I'd like to get on with that. This is all a bit strange for me." She looked around the opulent room again, familiar and foreign all at once.

"Say no more." Nyxia rushed forward and wove her arm through Agatha's. "I know just the place to start. Come."

SELESTE

The scent hit her first—lotus, jasmine, and oud wafting through the breezy palace corridors.

Amira hit her second.

"Seleste!" The airy Empress of Coronocco crashed into her with a hug that ended in trading kisses on either cheek. "What a delight it is to see you gliding through my halls. It's been too long, my dear."

Seleste spun in a small circle, her turquoise dress of the sheerest voile fanning out around her as if she were some great surprise herself. "I am your emissary, here to ensure you are well and up to date on the current chaos…I mean, current events ."

Laughing, Amira gestured toward a terrace just ahead of them and bid Seleste to follow her. "I ran this way to hide for a few moments of peace." She looked over her shoulder in mock fear before pulling Seleste out onto the terrace.

The view was remarkable. Just below them, three long pools of cool water glistened in the sun, their borders of palms standing sentry, the perfect forefront to the great pyramids jutting into the sky in the distance. Dragging her attention away from the landscape, Seleste leaned against the balcony railing. "How are you, Amira?"

The empress let out a long sigh, an inaudible one she tried to mask with a smile. Dark crescents lay beneath her eyes, both of which were the slightest bit bloodshot. "I believe I'm well, but?—"

"I disagree!" The wispy white curtains acting as barrier between the palace corridor and the terrace split apart to reveal Rah hobbling through.

Amira released another sigh, this one purposefully loud, and Seleste covered her chuckle with, "It's lovely to see you, Rah. Winnie told me you left the Druids to come here."

"Yes, and he should return to them before he drives me mad," Amira said to Seleste while glaring at Rah.

The elderly man put a fist on his hip, the other hand gripping the head of his cane tightly. "Are you going to tell her, or shall I?"

Amira all but groaned before turning to Seleste. "I–"

"You're having nightmares," she finished for her.

A soft laugh escaped Amira. "Ah. It is easy to forget how observant you are with that open, kind face. Yes, I have them most nights."

"I'll brew a potion for you and send it. You'll need to take it each night before bed while writing your worries down in order for it to bring sweet sleep."

"Thank you, dear." Amira's tired eyes crinkled at the edges. "I will take it gladly, but I assure you that Coronocco is prepared to be called upon when we are needed. "

"That is, I'm afraid, another reason I'm here. Is there somewhere we could sit and talk?"

Amira and Rah traded wary glances before the empress spoke. "Of course. Follow me."

The room Amira led them to was one of Seleste's favourites in the palace. When she'd aided the empress in her transition from hostage to returning sovereign in the Spring, she and Amira had spent long hours amongst the colourful floor cushions. Situated in an architecturally genius position within the palace, the breeze was always blowing in through one open wall leading out to the cool water of a private pool. Just before the room gave way to the outside, four potted orange trees bore their fruit. Seleste watched as Amira strode over, her indigo linen dress trailing. The swirling ink along her arms flexed as she plucked three oranges, tossing one to Rah—who did not catch it—and Seleste, who caught them both.

"I'm all ears, Sister Summer."

Rah made several grunts and various noises reserved for old men, taking his orange from Seleste and sitting on the tallest cushion. "There now. I'm ready."

Seleste smiled, peeling her orange and lounging on a coral-coloured cushion. "I've missed you, Rah."

"You're welcome to have him back," Amira muttered, Rah scowling at the empress. "Carry on, dear."

Seleste popped a vesicle of her orange into her mouth, relishing the citrus burst and the tingling sensation it sent into her cheeks. Wiping a bead of juice from her lip, she set the rest of her orange to the side and swallowed. "Perhaps this will not come as a shock to the two of you, and perhaps it should not have to the rest of us, but the most vital piece of information I can bestow upon you is that our Aggie and Grimm?—"

"Prince of Bone and Autumn Daughter," Amira said with all the wonder of a grand storyteller.

"Yes. They are quite a lot more than prophecies of old depicted." A question arose in her mind then. One that had bothered her since they discovered the prophecies at all. "Do you know where those prophecies came from by chance?"

Amira and Rah exchanged a befuddled look. "As far as I know," Amira answered, "the one I learned came from the original leader of the Fourth Order, Lorelai. It was far older than she, perhaps a thousand years or so. But there was the other, the one within the royal Seagovian family, that was first told to them many centuries ago by a g?thi who claimed a goddess came to him."

Tucking the information away, Seleste shook her head, braids slithering over one shoulder, and refocused on the task before her. "As it turns out, Aggie and Grimm are Lord and Lady Magie de la Nuit."

Rah's mouth gaped open, and Amira startled forward. "How can that be?"

Seleste swayed back and forth in a show of uncertainty. "That is what they are returning to Achlys to figure out. As it stands, Grimm has remembered a lot about his past lives and his time as the God of Night, but he hasn't divulged anything."

"This is…" The empress trailed off, her brows still raised halfway to her hairline, stretching the ink along her temple.

"I'm afraid there is more. We've discovered, using the map of symbols beneath the painting of La Femme Déchue and the vast astrological knowledge at Araignée, that Chresedia will attempt to leave this realm on the Autumnal Equinox, as that is the presumed date of the Deux Siècles Eclipse."

Rah and Amira both murmured expletives Seleste couldn't quite make out. She went on to explain the rest of their situation, recapping where the other members of their band of misfits were and finally reaching an agreement to contact Amira the moment they learned where Chresedia's exit point would take place during the eclipse.

"I need to get going," Seleste said as she rose to her feet and bent to give Amira and Rah a kiss on their cheeks. "If you need me, I will be in Castle Merveille for the foreseeable future." As she straightened, preparing to translate back to Merveille, she took a shot in the dark about something else that had been gnawing at her since her argument with Sorscha. "What do either of you know about Nadja Rashad?"

"The leader of Araignée?" Rah asked, tapping his cane against the floor. "The leader after Lorelai and Ambrose, that is." Seleste nodded, and he shook his head. "Again, I was so young when I was there. She was kind to me, but I don't know much else."

Amira nodded her confirmation. "She was long dead by the time I arrived there. Her children run Araignée now."

Yes, yes, all things Seleste already knew. Irritation flashed through her, and she tried to recall the last time she'd rested. Irritability was not something she was prone to unless she was horribly exhausted. Perhaps it was time for a bath when she returned to Merveille.

"Did either of you hear anything about Nadja being mixed up in…" She had to put it delicately. "Dark arts of any kind? "

Another befuddled look passed between Rah and Amira. "No, never," they both agreed.

"Did your family not practise necromancy at Morgana's Acadamy of Alchemy?" She pressed the empress.

Amira straightened one of her many bejewelled rings. "They did, yes." A small shake of her head sent her elegant, chignon of braids to swaying. "But that was several generations ago and our gift to meddle in such things was either punished or extorted. My family learnt what we could and then kept to ourselves, rarely letting anyone know we could meddle in necromancy. That included anyone at the Academy."

Seleste bit her tongue to better control her frustration, responding to Amira calmy. "Of course. That makes perfect sense."

"You need rest, dear one," Rah said with mock severity.

"You are quite right about that."

Seleste wished them both well and transported to Merveille, making a beeline for the lavatory in the rooms Aggie had so graciously set aside for her—the ones she had occupied before marrying Grimm. Now, though, it was a room of decadent peaches, oranges, and bright yellows, with a perfect view of the castle gardens and a towering lattice of all Litha's favourite flowers to drink nectar from. Aggie had arranged the room and redecorated it so quickly that it must have been by magic. Every tiny detail was a Summer witch's dream, down to the giant clawfoot copper tub and seven potion recipes along with their ingredients.

Looking at the list of recipes, Seleste smiled. It was no doubt Sorscha's touch. Perhaps an apology for their earlier dispute. Seleste ran her finger along the glass jars of flora, oils, and salts as the tub filled with warm water at the behest of her magic. The bottles sat neatly tucked onto a ladder shelf decorated with honeysuckle vines, their fuschia blooms soft to the touch.

Finally, she settled on Sorscha's Revitalisation Spell. Taking care to follow it exactly, Seleste slipped the lid off one jar at a time and gently placed the ingredients in the water.

·Rose petals (pink offers the best fragrance for revitalisation)

· Orange Peel

· Orange Oil

· Lemon Balm Leaves

· Lavender Buds

· Moonwater

· Black Salt

Revitalisez-moi, corps et ame.

Apporte la paix et le calme dans ma vie.

Seleste uttered the words to Sorscha's spell as she sprinkled in the salt charged by Mother Moon. Instantly, a deep peace filled her to the brim. Sinking down into the water, she tried to quiet her loud mind, but it remained mostly unaffected by the spell, and continued sorting through information the way her cunning sorted through observations and a cypher through coded messages.

Nadja Rashad had been the one to aid their mother. The leader she set in place when the Sisters' parents had fled Araignée for Helsvar… Something was not adding up.

Her past always sat in a corner of her mind, of her heart, but it was usually a locked tomb she never entered. She rubbed at her temples, droplets of water sluicing down her arms like Summer rain down a window. The thought sent a flutter through her heart.

Unwilling to drown in her past any longer, Seleste stood in a rush, water sloshing over the side of the tub. Quickly, she donned a yellow chiffon robe without bothering to dry off. She needed to busy herself with the Druid markings Laurent had deciphered. It was needed, and it would distract her well enough.

Walking across the bedroom toward the desk, she caught sight of herself in the looking glass and paused. Lifting one hand, she lightly touched her clouded, sightless eye as tears gathered.

What would he think of her now? Her lips instantly tipped in a smile. Would he appreciate the curves of her body where the robe clung to her wet skin and her nipples peaked, visible through the sheer fabric?

That Summer had changed everything. And so would this one.

Summoning her resolve, Seleste strode to the table and looked over the spread of notes there. She'd had little time to study the Druid markings or Laurent's translation of them, but staring at them now, there were bits and pieces—broken bits—that almost lit within her mind's eye, reminding her of something she'd seen before.

With a gasp, she knew exactly why they looked familiar.