A shudder dances into my bones. They need me. Cali needs me. I need to wake up.
I open my eyes, hot tears streaming down my cheeks as Astraea stares at me.
“Calista,” I splutter and clutch my chest. “I wanted to protect her soul from Cyna.”
The prophecy recites in my mind, as it has for over a century, except now I listen with newfound clarity.
A daughter of creation, doomed with death.
Of course. It was both of them.
Two witches on opposite sides of the same coin—one light, and one dark. Both with the power to awaken the gods.
“You trapped me here, when I did nothing to you,” Astraea says, and I refocus back on my sister. “You chose the mortal over me, your sister.”
“Yes,” I confess.
“I always chose you!”
“I know,” I say, tears sliding down my cheeks as it all settles back uncomfortably in my heart.
“Soon I will awaken.”
I shake my head. “I can’t allow that. I’m sorry. But I must protect Calista. She remembers nothing from her past life.”
Astraea nods. “You should be glad about that. If she did, she’d likely hate you. Yet, I see she is still a murderer. The essence of your magic is still attached to her soul. You must let her go, Azkiel. For all our sakes.” She pauses, her eyes widening. “We created this world, and the mortals worship us. What of those who worship you, who trust you? Will you damn everyone for one girl?”
The answer comes all too easily. “Yes.”
“Then we continue to find ourselves on opposite sides of this war.”
Astraea fades into a pit of darkness. She pulls on my magic, weakening me as I am forced out of my dream. My eyes fling open, and I turn onto my side, my heart pounding against my ribcage, each beat a desperate ache as adrenaline courses through my body.
Staring down at me through tear-stricken, bloodshot eyes, I find Calista standing over me.
“You wouldn’t wake up,” she rasps, her voice shaking.
Words evade me as I take in her beauty, her essence. Every micro movement in her wavering frown is a memory of when we had spent a life together. “What’s wrong?” I ask, sitting up.
“Ari’s gone. She spiked us with Nocturnum Somnus.”
Fuck.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” she asks, eyes bulging.
“She’s gone to the temple,” I say, realizing the dream was a distraction, so Astraea could hold me in my sleep while the sister escaped. “She will be dead any moment now. They’re coming for you. I must get you out of here.”
She pulls her hands from mine, then paces to the other side of the forest clearing. “I’m not leaving without her.”
“I won’t let you go,” I warn and rise to my feet, standing in front of her. The odds were always against us. Gods were never supposed to fall in love with mortals. The endings were catastrophic. Even now, as I see the darkness steadily creeping into her fingertips, with my magic consuming every inch of her, I still can’t stop myself.
“Please,” she croaks. “You have to help her.”
“It’s too late. I am sorry,” I whisper, running a knuckle over her cheek. “I will keep you safe.”
In the chasms of despair, she is all I have.
Calista pulls back, her eyes locked on me, then plunges her hands at my chest. Betrayal slices into me deeper than ever before when I look down, realizing she’d stabbed me with a dagger. With every beat, blood rushes the potent poison on the blade into my veins, slowly paralyzing me.
She stumbles back, leaving the dagger in my chest. I grip my fingers around the onyx hilt, then drop to my knees.
“Cali…”
FORTYCalista
The wind whips against my face as I run, pinching my cheeks in an icy embrace. My hair is a knot as my strands are pulled back in a flurry of cold gusts. I’m barely halfway to the temple when I run through the same clearing we’d been attacked on our first night.
Pieces of Edwardo’s corpse in the late stages of decay cover the ground. I slap my hand over my mouth and nose, the scent overpowering.
“I’ve been looking for you.” A man’s voice echoes from behind a tree, and I white-knuckle the dagger, then spin to face Alaric, just making out his brown eyes and tousled, dark hair. “Where’s your sister?” he asks.
“I don’t want to fight you.” I clench the hilt of my weapon. “I will, but you should know I’m not a participant in The Harvest.”
His eyes narrow, his cheeks smeared with dirt, blood caking his week-old, brown tunic, with no sign of the crimson robes. “Yet you took my kill!”
Decay magic quakes in my bones as he takes a step closer. I shift my position, lifting my dagger in warning. This can’t be happening. He must be talking about Eleanore, which means he was watching us.
I shake my head as a sense of dread crawls over my skin. “Where’s Dephina?” I decipher.
