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Chapter 8

Chapter

Eight

WINNIE

" Y ou want me to what?" Tomás was smiling from ear to ear, per the norm, but his tone had an edge.

"Don't be an insolent child." Winnie crossed her arms, arching one brow to drive her point home. "This is an important assignment, whether you think it's beneath you or not."

"It's a quill."

"It's a goddess quill," she emphasised. When Tomás only sniffed, she threw her hands in the air, dropping them back down with such force that they slapped against her thighs. "Please tell me I do not have to go find your mother. You're a grown man ."

"We'll do it." They both turned toward Eleanor as she strode over, soaked in sweat and carrying two water goblets. She handed one to Tomás and grinned at Winnie. "Nice to have you back for more than a day at a time, Gran . "

Winnie ground her teeth together and sent her magic to freeze Eleanor's water. When the young half-witch gave her a simpering smile and went to take a sip, her teeth collided with ice. "Ow!"

"Serves you right," Winnie snarked. "Now, this quill is something Chresedia has been looking for since before any of us were even alive. Protect . It ."

Ignoring the questions they called after her, Winnie left the row of tents, heading through camp and into the tree line in search of shade, peace, and quiet. The Druids were as much her family as her own Sisters were, but they were so loud . All. Of. The. Time. It was like having two hundred children running amok. And, of course, they always needed something from her now that she was their unofficial queen , as Laurent insisted she be called. Winnie scoffed at the thought. She had to admit that she'd never been happier, even with the impending doom awaiting them.

"Ah, silence," she muttered to herself, sitting in the shade beneath a swaying willow. A small, nearly dried-up brook ran next to the tree, and she discarded her boots to slip her feet in it. There was little by way of coolness to the water, but it did the trick well enough. The barest trill of hooting sounded through the woods, and she watched lovingly as Yula swooped down beside her.

"Hello, you."

Yula closed her big eyes, nuzzling into Winnie's attention. A few moments later, the owl startled, wings flapping in a dramatic exit as Winnie yelped—a form materialising in front of her. "Seleste! You gave Yula a heart attack!"

"Apologies, Sister. I need to speak with Laurent." She bent, unfurling the star map on a mossy tree trunk, pointing to a cluster of stars that made a distinct shape. "I believe the few symbols he hadn't decoded might match up with this."

"Of course." Winnie stood, slipping on her boots. "He should be preparing the tent for a performance tonight."

Seleste jumped to follow Winnie's brisk pace as she headed out of the forest. "Oh? The troupe is still performing? I thought you'd halted the cirque to coordinate Grimm's rebellion leaders."

Winnie's magic bent stray branches out of their path. "We thought it best to perform along the way. Chresedia is no dolt. She might still be trapped in the Liminal Place where Grimm left her, but I doubt she will be for long, and he didn't trap her Acolytes or spies." She looked over her shoulder at Seleste as they broke from the treeline, the busy Druid camp coming into view. "She'll come for any of us that she can."

"Wouldn't it then be a better idea not to announce your whereabouts with a boisterous cirque?"

Reaching a huddle of men and women encircling a fire, Winnie weaved through the camp, leading Seleste toward the far corner. "No. We're doing what we've always done, even when she was travelling with us. It's less conspicuous than halting the cirque."

She paused in front of a heavily guarded tent and Seleste watched her with that unnerving discernment. "If she arrives during a performance, there will be civilians."

Winnie stared back at her Sister Summer, letting Seleste's cunning do its work. She gasped and Winnie knew she'd landed on it.

"Laurent expects her to find the troupe."

"Yes," Winnie said simply.

"I don't like this at all, Sister. "

"No, and neither did Aggie."

"She approved this?" Seleste was almost shouting, three tent guards shifting on their feet.

"Laurent knows Chresedia. The rest of us often forget that." Winnie put a hand to her chest. "Myself included. I've blocked her out. I thought for so long that he chose his magic, his restoration over me, and she was his drug to do so. After I left, she travelled with this troupe for many years. She has a soft spot for Lau. She always returns eventually, and he suspects after their encounter at Glacé Manor, she will make a point to do so soon."

Winnie had never seen Seleste so furious. "And what will the two of you do?" She threw her hands in the air and venom into her words. "Let her harm your troupe? The mortals ?" she shouted. "Is this why he's been training the Druids so hard?"

"Seleste." Winnie kept her voice as even as possible. "Calm down."

The words were a mistake. Every witch knows you never tell a woman to calm down.

Seleste's eyes went wide with fury, her magic radiating in bright rays of sunshine around her until she looked like a starburst. Tomás came out of the tent then, drawn by the light and shouting. "You," Seleste growled, pointing to him, "get the Cirque Master." He looked to Winnie and Seleste snapped, "Now!"

Winnie nodded almost imperceptibly and Tomás took off at a run. Eleanor came out of the tent to see what the commotion was. Her presence dimmed Seleste's magic, if only slightly. She wouldn't want her great-niece to see her so angry.

The young half-witch looked between the two Sisters. "What's going on here?"

Pushing the question aside, Winnie redirected the conversation before it could begin. "Are the wards in place?"

Eleanor pushed the hair that had come loose from her braid back from her face. "They're up. One set around the quill and one set around the tent." She scrunched her nose. "I did them the way you taught me, but I would suggest taking a look for yourself. Just in case."

"Of course." Winnie risked a glance at Seleste, who was no longer radiating furious light, but her lips were still in a thin line.

Laurent strolled over, the perfect picture of ease. "Ladies, ladies." He nodded to each of them. "What seems to be the trouble here?"

Winnie clamped her mouth shut. She was growing increasingly accustomed to letting her Sisters speak and act for themselves without her interference. Eleanor, she struggled with—call it her lingering maternal instinct—but she would sit back and watch how Seleste handled her concerns. In truth, she was rather proud of her Sister Summer's outburst. It was uncharacteristic, and it left Winnie with more than a little curiosity.

Seleste did not disappoint. She stood to her full height, which was taller than Winnie but still unimpressive against Laurent's. Winnie watched his lips twitch, but he remained still as Seleste howled, "How could you continue to draw in crowds and make a spectacle when you were tasked with protecting the quill? It is irresponsible, childish, insolent…" She ticked them all off on her elegant fingers. "Have you not considered what could happen to the mortals in at tendance if Chresedia or her Acolytes show up during a performance?"

When her tirade was finished, Laurent licked his lips, arms crossed and feet planted firmly. "All due respect, Seleste, but I know Chresedia, remember? She travelled with us. She lived with us. She even sang on stage with me."

Winnie murmured vile things under her breath just shy of cursing.

Laurent's attention flicked to her over Seleste's shoulder before he continued. "And we can protect the people." He held his arms wide just as he did on stage. "We are Druids , not just cirque freaks."

Seleste's scowl only deepened, and Laurent sighed.

"We also need to protect the rebellion factions," he said slowly. It occurred to Winnie then that he had a lot of experience dealing with the Joubert witches' tempers. "We need to keep the scent away from them. Thus, we perform in towns I've strategically selected. With the help of the reaper prince, by the damned way."

Seleste's shoulders lost a measure of their rigidity, but there was sadness in her voice as she said, "The mortal people, Laurent. There will be casualties if she comes."

"I don't fear her." He was getting defensive now.

"Perhaps you should!" Seleste spat, her rage building again. "Don't you think Aggie and Grimm would have killed her long ago if it was that simple? If it was just a matter of not fearing her? Don't you think Grimm would have gutted her the first chance he had when he was trapped in her sadistic compound? There is a reason he continuously passed her off to another realm only to repeat the whole thing. Did you think of that?" Spittle flew from her mouth with the last words and Winnie came forward to put a hand on her back. This was behaviour typical of Sorscha and even Aggie, but Seleste…

"Of course I have!" Laurent shot back, his calm demeanour vanishing entirely. "I'm no fool, Seleste."

"You're making a beacon for her to follow and putting mortals in the way! That is awfully foolish if you ask me."

"We're already a fucking beacon!" Laurent threw his hands in the air, Tomás and Eleanor's attention volleying from one to the other. "We have the goddess quill and her blood is in my fucking veins!"

Winnie watched as Seleste froze. Her good eye went glazed, then sharp, her jaw slack.

Her cunning.

"Hush!" Winnie hissed at Laurent, moving to better see Seleste's face. "What is it, Sister?" she prompted quietly. "What do you see?"

"He's right." Her words hardly carried, her eye scanning the dry, brittle grass at their feet. Then, her attention suddenly snapped up. "I need a bit of your blood, Laurent."

Surprise drew one of Lau's brows up. "For…"

"You wanted to be a beacon." Seleste threw her shoulders back. "Then we are going to make your beacon even brighter."

AGATHA

The heady fragrance of night blooming jasmine and hellebore cloyed with her senses, followed swiftly by the ethereal glow of mist hovering over a bed of black tulips, dahlias, and roses so dark they resembled blood ensconced in shadow.

Grimm wove his fingers through hers, his gaze following her line of sight. "I do remember that this was one of your favourite places."

"Correct." Nyxia smiled, beckoning them forward along the cobbled stone path—little steps of moonstone amongst the gloom.

"Is it perpetually night here?" she asked the Goddess of Death.

"No, but it is always bedimmed. Those of us in Achlys like the darker shades of things."

They strode past an elegant glass gazebo, all filigreed iron and twisted vines. A memory began tickling the back of her skull like the wings of a moth, never quite landing. Sensing the elusiveness in their bond, Grimm squeezed her hand.

In time, little witch. Be patient.

"I knew of Achlys," Agatha said to Nyxia as they strode on, "but I don't think I've ever read about the other places in The Void. Where the other of the Thirteen live."

She caught her own mistake just as Nyxia's face fell. "Nine. There are only nine of us now."

Agatha swallowed. Nine, because Asteria and Thanasim were in The Void but only as a reaper and a witch, and Athania was running feral in their realm.

"To answer your question, there is a place for each of us in The Void. A place that we call home. Not quite within the Afterlife, but adjacent. You elected to live here in Achlys, with Thanasim from day one. I even took you to Athania's castle of garnet in the rocky crags of Bellonia and to Lisbeth's garden oasis in Dodona." Nyxia inhaled in a melancholy wistfulness that only frustrated Agatha for the simple fact that she couldn't share the memories. "Though you spent much time in both places, you only wished to live here with us.

"The Meadow, where Thanasim tells me you first remembered who you are, is where we hold court when it is necessary to convene. Since it is the only place we're all together at once—or, I should say, were together all at once—it is where most of the legends and hearth tales originate from. Bits and pieces of fragmented moments mentioned by one or the other of us, seeping into lore. However, our gathering happens rarely. Even more rarely now." She looked away, before planting a dimmed smile on her face.

Wanting to draw Nyxia away from painful memories, Aggie changed the subject abruptly. "Is Chresedia—Athania, I mean—a witch now? Is that what she is?"

They approached a wooded area, naked trees with long, sprawling branches like claws reaching out of the foliage. Herbage so shadowed a green that it was almost black.

"That is my assumption," Nyxia answered. "I am sorry that I cannot offer more information." She turned sombre eyes on Grimm, two pools of violet night shrouded in mist. "It was not that I did not want to tell you of your past lives until now, it is that I could not. I was entirely truthful when I said my limited knowledge is by your design."

She sighed, drained, and sat on an ornate iron bench, Grimm and Agatha dropping to sit on either side of her. "The tendril of night that spoke to you in the Liminal Place—the one that reintegrated back into you, that is—it is a shade of your power that was here with me. It bound me the same way you say you have bound Athania."

Grimm ran a hand through his chaotic mess of hair. "I–I don't even know how I did that. The shadow coil simply said to bind her—that I had sent it away for protection. When Athania walked through that door and I was on her fucking throne I just—" He shrugged, a bone-deep weariness in the set of his shoulders. "I don't know. I felt I could do what it had said, so I just did it."

Nyxia rested a gentle, elegant hand on his knee. "The night is yours, darling."

"But I did this same thing to you?" He shifted toward her on the bench, revulsion plain on his face. "I bound you from speaking about my past lives?"

"And kept me from knowing almost anything about what happened with Athania. In fact, I have a sneaking suspicion you bound all of us in The Primordial."

Grimm looked away, toward a bed of black violas. Agatha could feel his mind whirring, so she spoke instead, leaving him to his thoughts. "What makes you think he bound all of you?"

Nyxia patted Grimm's knee once before returning her hands to her lap. "There are pieces of conversation and bits of memory that fall away when any of us are together. Things we can't recall, or the words die on our tongue before they are uttered. It took a while to put it together, but I began to notice this only happened when one or both of you came up in the conversation."

Grimm's attention snapped back to them. "How did I unbind you?"

"I have not the slightest idea, but I think it best you figure that out. I know very little about what nastiness occurred between the two of you and Athania. All I do know is that she was dear to us all, but even more so to you. She chose to give up her status as Lady War and left The Void to marry a mortal general in the land of Orford."

"Please, Nyxia" he pleaded. "Anything you know. Anything at all can help."

"I know that you checked in on her often. You were concerned about her involvement with the war her Orfordian General was tangled up in. She was interfering and, as it was your duty to look after the darker dealings of mortals, you confronted her. Our reapers, handmaidens, and Death Seers were run ragged in those days. They hardly had time to stop and return to their mortal forms at all. One day, when Asteria was still carrying Belfry in her womb, you both went to speak with Athania. Soon after, Orford was invaded by a nearby land called Hawthrin, and Athania was taken captive on a ship."

Grimm squinted his eyes shut, the telltale sign a new memory had lodged itself in his skull. "None of her captors on that ship survived," he bit out through the pain behind his eyes.

"Correct. Athania killed them all. It was also the day her magic manifested."

"Manifested?" Agatha pressed. "She's not always had magic?"

"Not exactly. We all had mortal lives before we were chosen by Hespa to be what we are. Though you, Thanasim, were a warlock in that first life, and you, Asteria, a powerful witch, Athania was a simple girl. She had no power until Hespa offered her rebirth as Goddess of War."

Nyxia turned to Agatha. "You, dear one, have always led and cared for others ferociously in equal measure. When Athania planned to leave The Void and renounce her place among The Primordial, you brokered for her to retain some measure of power, effectively creating a witch. I am uncertain of the details, though I suspect they are murky and significant.

"However, Athania hadn't spent time harnessing the magic you gave her, and did not know how to wield it up until, it would appear, the day she slaughtered her captor and his crew. There was a young witch also taken captive with Athania, and she called out to you, Asteria. To her Lady Magic. And you came." Nyxia's voice trailed off and she gazed up into the trees devoid of light.

"What happened?" Agatha's voice was reticent. How could it be that such a tale of epic proportions had anything to do with her? And she couldn't even remember it.

"I do not know, darling. You returned to Achlys, shaken. Thanasim was blinded by rage. He called for us to convene in the Meadow and, though I do not have proof, I believe it was then that he bound every last one of us. The two of you met with us collectively, which is a strangely foggy memory in my mind, and then one at a time."

"Why would I do that?" Grimm scrubbed a hand along his jaw. "That's madness. Wouldn't we be stronger together? Why did I fear Athania so much?"

"All I have been able to gather, despite your binding of us, is that you threw her into another realm for the first time that day. Several years passed, just a blink of time to us, really. But you left in a rush one night, leaving the girls with me. I knew Athania had been causing mayhem again, we all did, but only the two of you knew where she was. You returned with her goddess quill, the one she used to meddle with wars and their outcomes when she was Lady War. After that day, you were both sullen and reserved, keeping to yourselves far too much. I–I did not know how bad it was until it was too late."

"Too late?" Agatha asked gently.

Another wistful smile crawled like creeping vines across Nyxia's face. "Your girls were remarkable. They were not reborn of Hespa, but they carried the blood of the gods and were far more than witches. Because their births coincided with the shifts of Seasons, light and dark, their mother and father, they were affectionately coined the Sisters Solstice. They were brilliant, calculated, chaotic, kind, and brave. The absolute perfect melding of the two of you."

Grimm stood and moved to Agatha's side as she fought back tears. Tears of a loss she couldn't recall and desperately needed to, yet was terrified to confront.

"While the girls were staying with me, Monarch showed me her newest exposé of animancy."

Grimm started. " Animancy ? Our daughter had the power to raise the dead?"

"Yes. Your girls were, of course, partly you, and I had made you a reaper in that first life you lived. A very powerful one, I might add, considering you had warlock magic as well. These sorts of gifts and powers transcend time and mortality.

"While you were away, presumably dealing with Athania, Monarch showed me a frog she had brought back from the grave. But the little amphibian had no soul. Many believe creatures do not have souls as mortals do, but, here in Achlys, we know first-hand how untrue that is. I spent several days searching for the perfect amphibian soul to gift to Monarch for her friend." Nyxia's face fell. "When I arrived at your home to give it to her, all of you were gone. "

"Where?" Grimm hurried to ask, his urgency as thick as Agatha's own in their bond.

"I am not certain, but I have always believed it was Aureland, where you had that first life, Thanasim."

"Aureland?" Agatha broke in, the name jarring something within her. "That feels familiar…"

Nyxia's head bobbed. "I have no proof you went there, but I have always thought it would be the best place. The Elven people abide there, Keepers they are sometimes called in other realms. You had Athania's goddess quill, and it would have been safest there. It is where I would have taken it if I did not bring it here."

Grimm took up pacing, his hands in his pockets and wearing a line in the pebbles between the dark treeline and lush garden. "The goddess quill that penned the Grimoire. It is one and the same, yes?"

"It has to be. The only other one was destroyed in the War of the Gods long before Athania left The Void."

"What happened after we left?" Agatha posed the question.

"All I know is that I did not hear from you, any of you, for a century. When I did, it was to collect your soul, Thanasim."

He baulked. "In that time I gave up my godship?"

A single tear slid down Nyxia's face and Grimm knelt in front of her at the same time Agatha instinctively put a hand on her back. "I took your soul straight to Hespa. I raged at Her, cried, demanded She tell me what happened. In Her way, She merely told me he is Ours first, foremost, and he has done what is best for all. "

She bent her head and wept. "That was it. I had to trust you, and Hespa." She wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I brought you back here and held you here until you convinced me you had to go back. You would tell me nothing else."

"Back?" Agatha prodded. "To be reborn?"

"Yes. Souls have the ability to decide if they remain in the Afterlife or if they would like to return to the land of the living. Usually, it does not happen so quickly aside from reapers, but Thanasim was no reaper at that time. He was merely a mortal, somehow."

"How many times?" Grimm asked, his voice stifled.

Nyxia lifted her head, looking at her chosen son with grief-stricken eyes. "Fourteen." She turned those eyes on Agatha. "Thirteen for you, Asteria."

Agatha sucked in a sharp breath.

"I made you a reaper in twelve lives, Thanasim, and pleaded with Hespa to send you Thalia, your sister from your first life, in any existence She would allow it to be so."

Grimm closed his eyes. "Arielle."

Squeezing his hand, Nyxia smiled. "Thalia, Lorna, Astrid, Sage, Willa, Hazel, Sabrina, and Arielle."

His breathing uneven, Grimm tipped his head to the moon and stood in silence for several moments.

Eventually, he said something to Nyxia and they continued speaking, but Agatha's very soul was in a pirouette. When she closed her eyes, it was almost as if she could hear their daughters giggling, arguing, playing... A lump lodged itself firmly in her throat. She needed to grasp these fragments of memories. Immediately. She couldn't take it any longer.

"You said you came to our home." Her voice was almost drowned out by the gentle breeze, but they both immediately gave her their attention. "I thought we lived in the palace." She could feel Grimm's concern for her pulsing.

"You lived within the palace walls until Hissa was born. At that time, Thanasim had a manor built." Nyxia rose gracefully, brushing elegant hands down her gown. "And it is the very place where I thought this journey of remembering should begin. Come."

Within a few steps, they'd reached a break in the thick, dark foliage, revealing a wrought iron gate thrice the height of Grimm. In and of itself, it was a masterpiece of iron mysteries. But, beyond it, lay a manor that took Agatha's breath away.

"Goddess above," Grimm swore. Nyxia chuckled next to him and corrected that, in The Void, it's goddess beside.

The gate opened under Agatha's touch, revealing a stygian manor of spires, pointed arches, and rib vaults. Already, memories were dancing at the edge of Agatha's mind. Grimm was worlds away, too many differing emotions swelling in their bond for her to decipher them.

"This is where I leave you," Nyxia said softly. "The only aid I can give is this." She pulled out a glass bauble from nowhere. Within it, swirls of grey fog wound ‘round and ‘round one another in a vicious dance. "These are your deaths."

Agatha gasped, taking the bauble. Grimm, however, had not broken his gaze fixed on the manor.

"I wouldn't set them free," Nyxia warned, "lest you witness moments you would rather not recall. However, death is tangled up in life. Their presence may lend a helping hand in clarifying the lives you lived. "

Lady Death strode away, and Agatha took Grimm's arm, pulling him back from wherever the sight of their manor had taken him.

"Ready, little witch?"

"No." But she took the first step forward anyway.

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