lucius
Lucius cracked open an eye.
He lay under a tree, its empty black branches cutting jagged lines across the burnt orange sky, sulfur and smoke filling the air. He sighed, recognizing the dismal realm even without the tormented wails carried along the noxious wind. Back again. He stood, and brushed off his trousers. Charred skulls and torsos surrounded him on all sides, seeming to stretch on infinitely. Many housed ugly brown mushrooms, some with spindly black trees growing out of their spines. He shook his head, annoyed by the mess. “When I ruled down here, it was a beautiful landscape of volcanic mountains and lava,” he informed one of the nearby demons who had come to investigate his arrival. “Now it’s a complete disaster.”
The demon, a spidery looking creature with human eyeballs and bat wings, sniffed him once before cowering in fear.
“I’m looking for someone, an old pagan weather god with curly reddish hair and green eyes,” he told the creature. “Do you know where I can find him?”
The demon looked relieved to learn Lucius wasn’t planning on killing or eating it, and replied by scuttling through a break in the field of bones. Lucius followed as the sky shifted, a mountain gorge appearing before them. He looked up to see the giants that created it, tied together by chains wound so tightly they could not move. He couldn’t believe they were still alive, their labored breaths and eruptions of discontentment audible as he walked through the valley their figures made. He knew them as the Titans, giants cast down by the Olympian gods as they rose in power, long after Lucius left and before he masqueraded as Hades. So large were the Titans, that those who didn’t end up tied together for eternity, found themselves stuck in whatever place they landed. Oceanus became the great Lake of Agony, where souls eternally drowned; Cronus’s rib cage became a prison for murderers; and Hyperion’s fiery jaws were the place where rapists burned.
Lucius pulled his gaze away, wondering where the imp led him. After some time, they reached the end, where a large sphere of wind swirled and spun, crackles of lightning flickering through its agitated clouds. The demon looked up at him as if waiting for payment, but after seeing the look in his eyes, it hurried away.
Lucius marched up to the tornado and inhaled, pressing forward with flattened palms until he created space between squalls. He fell into it blindly, stumbling only for a moment before he found himself in an old cemetery, similar to the one David left behind in England. The wind outside the space howled, but inside was still. The ground beneath his feet felt more mud than grass, and the gravestones were mossy and crumbling. The trees were dead, as were the brown plants that pushed up through the inhospitable earth. The atmosphere suffocated, thick with despair.
He found David lying in the mud, half-sunken and oblivious to Lucius’s presence. His skin bore a sickly shade of gray, and his clothing moldered around his body as if he’d been decaying in the ground for months. He stared listlessly up at the only sign of life—a dozen quiet crows who circled, but never swooped down.
Lucius let out an exasperated sigh. Of course this was his torment—trapped, rotting away in his own muck, lamenting her. He crouched down to meet him at eye level. “Are you going to keep feeling sorry for yourself, or are you going to come with me?”
David’s eyes drifted towards him and landed without a flash of recognition. “I’m just resting,” he said in a detached voice.
Lucius rolled his eyes. “Come. You and I both know you don’t belong down here.” He grabbed David’s arm, and began hoisting him to his feet.
David looked bewildered as he complied, staring at the desolate graveyard with saucer eyes. “Where am I?”
“Hell.”
David stared at him blankly until recognition softened the confusion wrinkling his forehead. “Lucius?”
“There you are.” Lucius gave him a stiff pat on the back, sending globs of mud away from his mildewy clothing. “Now I just have to figure out a way to get you out of here.”
David frowned, staring off into the horizon at the swirling shades of gray that created the sky. “Where is she?”
Lucius tried not to let his agitation surface. “On Earth somewhere, I believe. You’ll see her soon enough.”
David turned back to face him, something different in his eyes. “I’ve always thought it was you who was at fault. For eons, I believed the story affirmed by historians—Set, the destructive, wicked god of the Underworld, murdered his twin brother, Osiris, the good and the just, out of jealousy. I thought I was rescuing Nephthys from your clutches, thought I was doing right by running away with her to Ireland.” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “But it’s all wrong. I was the jealous one. I viewed my life with Isis as a prison, a box of what the world expected of me as their king. You were free to roam the Earth fighting wars, causing mayhem—not bound by expectations. Even your wife was beautiful, passionate, and strong… Although it has taken millennia to clearly see what I should have seen all along, I think a part of me has always known my entire existence was based upon a lie. I am not a hero, nor am I a leader. I am just a jealous brother who stole your entire life away from you. Lucius, please understand how deeply s—”
“Oh no,” Lucius cut him off sharply. “Absolutely not. I came down here to rescue you, and I’ll be damned if you suddenly see the error of your ways and come out on top. For once in your cursed life, let me be the damned hero!”
David blinked. “You came here to rescue me?”
“Yes. Now stop talking before anyone realizes we’re down here.” Lucius grabbed his arm, and pulled him back up the hill to the hole he’d created in the wind. No sooner had they stepped through it, back into the world of stifling air and burning skies, did a giant, demonic wolf block their view.
“No,” Lucius snapped before it spoke. “You tell him I’m not interested in talking. This soul does not belong down here and I am getting rid of him.”
“Lucius, wait, is that Dan?”
The wolf scowled down at them, its red eyes glaring above rows of fangs. “My name is Fenrir. I’ve come here to bring Lucius to the Master.”
“Technically, I am your master. Your father and I made a deal,” Lucius reminded the giant beast. “So, you must reply truthfully to what I ask you: is the soul once bound to you here?”
“Baldr?” the wolf sneered. “I have been rid of him since we entered this realm. He is not here.”
Lucius nodded, disheartened for Cahira. She wasn’t going to take the revelation well. “Fenrir, I need you to escort my brother to the Asphodel Wasteland so he can find his way back.”
The wolf growled. “Master is not going to be pleased with me.”
“Oh, let me handle that obnoxious fool. You just take this one where he needs to go.”
“You’re not coming with me?” David looked confused.
“I’m dead, David. You are only visiting,” Lucius explained impatiently. “I’m surprised they let you stay down here as long as you have been. I can’t even begin to tell you how poorly this place is managed now. Now go. I’ll distract King Demon, and you find your way back to the rest of them. It’s not a difficult endeavor; once you reach the old meadows, you’ll see the portal. Tell Cahira I’m sorry I couldn’t send her lover back with you.” He started back down the Hall of Giants.
“Lucius,” he tried to stop him.
“Go, David.”
“You’re a bastard for murdering me.”
“That’s more like it.”
“But you didn’t have to come down here to rescue me. It means a lot that you did.”
Lucius finally paused his stride. He looked back at David and shrugged. “Well, you know I enjoy any opportunity to make you look bad.”
And before David could say another word, he marched down the great hall, leaving the giant wolf and his brother behind.
morrigan
The savanna was hauntingly beautiful at dusk, the moon burning a gold disc into the sky as it rose above the horizon. A warm breeze drifted across her skin, its very scent wild and untamed, holding a hint of promise.
He stood against an acacia tree with his hips forward and his arms crossed, looking more like the alluring Lucius than her quiet, contemplative David as he stared at her with hungry eyes.
“I wondered if you’d know to find me out here,” she said, letting a smile glide across her lips.
“I knew you would run when you learned of my brother’s lies,” David said. “It seemed logical you’d go to the place where the moon shines the brightest.”
“Is it you who has been sending me dreams of Ireland?”
“Perhaps.”
Morrigan drew closer as the breeze picked up around them. “I’d forgotten those days,” she said dreamily, reaching her hand up behind his head. He smiled before she closed her eyes and pressed her lips against his, knowing she was kissing a stranger.
When he opened his eyes, he immediately jumped back, taking in his new surroundings with alarm. “Where did you take us?”
Morrigan smiled, standing serenely in the bleached sand as a thin black snake wove around her bare feet, her crows circling above. She saw her image reflected in the pupils of his eyes—a blend of every goddess she’d portrayed—tall and regal, wearing billowing black with hair that matched, her arms and tattoos exposed, blue eyes rimmed with smudged kohl, her hand clutching an obsidian staff that ended in a python’s head. One of the crows landed on her shoulder, settling his wings as he apprehended David with a resounding squawk. Beside her stood a wolf with fur as black as the rest of her familiars, all patiently waiting for direction from their queen. “You can stop pretending to be David now.”
Discordia shifted back into her blonde-haired, red-eyed physique, her ruby lips pursed with annoyance. She looked out of place in the morose, ethereal realm Morrigan brought her to, a blinding sore against the peaceful grayscale. “It took you long enough to realize it was me,” she huffed. “I can always count on you to be distracted.”
Morrigan apprehended her calmly. “I’m not distracted now.”
Discordia cast a disapproving look at the gradient silver sky and the black waters that crashed against the sand. In the distance, sharp black mountains cut through smoky white fog. The air sighed around them. “Where is this place?” she repeated in disgust.
“It took me a moment to remember,” Morrigan began as she gazed across the waters, “but I once created the realms. Isis created the life that dies upon the Earth, but I created the spaces where death is reborn. We are in the Middleworld, the place between the realms. A place you cannot harm.”
Discordia scoffed, though her eyes betrayed her concern. “I always find a way. I’ll consume your powers soon enough and then it will be mine.”
“I have thought much about the events in my life,” Morrigan continued as if she hadn’t heard her, “wondering why you’ve been such a persistent annoyance throughout my life, and I’ve come to a conclusion. At the beginning of time, there was heka and chaos. Until one day, the two merged and birthed a pair of twins: the Great She. All was well until the day one of the twins fell in love, which birthed chaos as a separate entity. Chaos might have broken away, but it was nothing without heka. It was forced to feed off others to survive. Chaos wanted so badly to be a goddess in her own right, but she couldn’t, even though she walked in their footsteps and made love to their husbands. She began murdering other goddesses and absorbing their power, but in doing so, she simply became pieces of them sewn together—not the real deity she longed to become.”
Morrigan turned to her, watching her face twitch and twist at her words. “Finally, she decided to kill every god and goddess so she could be the only goddess standing, giving her all the power and prestige she craved. But it will not work, Discordia. Even if you kill us all, you will still remain a sad, empty shell filled with the stolen souls of others.”
“You know nothing of what you speak,” Discordia snapped. She shifted into the image of Isis, Morrigan’s twin staring back at her with violent green eyes. “I am the one with heka now, and when I take the rest from Cahira, I will be the most powerful goddess on Earth.”
“My sister was far more brilliant than you give her credit for. Cahira does not have Isis’s heka. It is safely hidden away. And even if you did manage to find it and steal it, it won’t help you.” The crow on her shoulder let out a squawk of agreement.
“You will still be alone. You can surround yourself with minions, you can make deals and raise demons, you can steal the power of others. But you will never have true devotion, never feel the love and loyalty of family.”
Discordia gave her a smug look. “I’ve made love to both David and Lucius in so many different ways, Lilith. Your words do not upset me.”
Morrigan shook her head, offering her a sad smile. “You had to trick them to do it. You could have had your own life, your own realm even. You could have found your own lover, bore your own children. But you chose to take over my sister’s life and mine—and you failed. You cannot fake true love, nor can you pretend your way into having another person’s life, no matter how appealing it might be.”
Discordia’s face twisted horribly as she spoke, shifting through different faces before slipping into Gaia’s form.
Morrigan laughed. “She’s actually the one that sent me to you.”
With a furious screech, Discordia opened her palms, letting the fire she’d stolen from Lucius fly freely from her hands.
Morrigan barely flinched, dropping her staff to extend her own hands. In an instant, she felt them all around her—David’s wind, Lucius’s fire, Isis’s heka—blended with her waters and the spiritual powers of her sons. The pulsating, black energy gifted to her blocked Discordia’s stolen fire, driving it backwards. She sputtered, dismayed as she tried to push harder, shifting into her many forms as she tried to match the strength radiating from Morrigan. The crows began to circle and caw, creating a cyclone above them, riddled with flashes of lightning that threatened to strike at her command.
“Show yourself,” Morrigan demanded as she inched closer, watching the chaos goddess falter and fade, unable to bring forth strength that was her own.
Discordia screeched with frustration as she submitted to her preferred avatar, her white-blonde hair whipping around her face as she struggled to keep Morrigan from advancing.
“No, the real one,” Morrigan ordered as she pulled power from the depths of her soul. She heard her sister’s wild battle cry reverberating in her mind as she worked through her, slamming Discordia to the ground.
The stream of power was broken as the imposter goddess crumbled. She balled herself up in fear, shaking as Morrigan stood in wait. The magic Morrigan had invoked twitched around her like electricity, snaking around her form, waiting to strike.
Discordia gingerly uncoiled, pulling herself to her feet. She was a mirror image of Morrigan now, tears streaking down her face as she stared at her with manic eyes a piercing shade of blue. “I hate you,” she screamed.
Morrigan marched up to her double without hesitation. She thrust her fist into her chest and cracked her ribs in one solid movement, capturing Discordia’s fearful eyes with her own as she ripped the still-beating heart from her chest. She stared in shock and horror as Morrigan promptly sank her teeth into it, releasing the blood of a hundred stolen lives. Chaos let out a defeated whimper before she crumpled to the ground, splitting into dozens of snakes. They slithered to Morrigan’s feet, up her legs and into her skin, her body seamlessly absorbing what was meant to be hers. The heart she held transformed as well, coiling around her fingers before finding a place on her arm, turning itself into another tattoo.
Morrigan blinked, and she was back on Earth.
She wiped her bloodied lips with the back of her hand, feeling her sister’s spirit humming around her, flickering like fireflies. Although her heart was still pumping from exhilaration, she felt warm and complete, as though she’d been wandering lost for days and finally finding the path home. She looked down to see David resting peacefully in the grass, his body freed of Discordia’s spirit. She knelt by his side, tenderly brushing back a lock of rusted hair. His eyes opened, his pupils shrinking as they focused on her face.
He immediately smiled. “Hello.”
“Hello,” she echoed.
“This was how we first met in Ireland,” David remembered. “Except our roles were reversed.”
“I remember.”
He suddenly looked bewildered, sitting upright as if remembering where he was. “Did Lucius make it?”
Morrigan frowned. “What do you mean?”
David pulled himself to his feet, searching all around them. “He—he pulled me out of Tartarus.”
Morrigan’s heart gave a thump as she stood. “Tartarus? I just killed Discordia; she had your body hostage. Your spirit just returned.”
“That explains why they imprisoned me,” David realized, his energy frantic. “Where is everyone? We need to get back to the others—”
Morrigan grabbed him by both arms, halting his movement. “David,” she said sharply, “where is Lucius?”
She realized she didn’t even need to hear the words—she could see the answer reflected in his somber eyes.
“He is in Tartarus,” he told her gently. “He was there to rescue me. Morrigan, I didn’t believe him, but he told me he was dead...”
Although her body was humming with borrowed power, her mind had trouble comprehending his words, deciding to spin as her knees buckled. She knew she was slipping away from reality, but she felt David’s strong arms lifting her up, holding her tightly as he sped her across the plains. She slipped away as she heard the sound of the ocean when they arrived, grateful to be back at Anubis’s home.
david
The path to the house was radiant with torchlight, illuminating their path forward. The equally aglow windows let him know everyone awaited their return. He didn’t stop to question how he knew the way to Anubis’s house, nor did he wish to indulge in the morbid reflection of having his body possessed. Instead, he was consumed by the present, worry heightening his senses as he raced Morrigan through the front gates.
A rumbling storm brewed as they ran through, and Anubis flew out of the house to fetch Morrigan out of his arms. Libraean emerged from behind and spun David around to face him, patting his face and shoulders, while searching his eyes.
“It’s you,” he breathed in relief.
David drew his old friend into an embrace, grateful to see him again. “Morrigan has killed Discordia,” he told him and Anubis, “and Lucius sacrificed himself to pull me out of Tartarus—when I told Morrigan, she collapsed. Her body is engorged with extra power right now, so please be careful.”
Anubis looked up at the crackling, electric clouds. “I see. Let’s get inside.”
David followed them through the door, only to have his path blocked by Cahira, her expression prematurely hardened as if bracing for bad news. “Tell me,” she said through lips that barely moved.
David took her hands, and met her eyes. “We spoke directly to Fenrir,” he told her gently. “Dan is not there.”
Without a word, she pulled away from him and marched out the door. He looked to Sandrine, who nodded to confirm they should not follow. He quietly acquiesced, instead turning back to Morrigan. She’d found her legs and now stood unblinking in front of the fireplace, the flames reflected in dilated pupils. He noticed her eyes had changed color, now shades of blue and green, swirling together like the tropical ocean. He realized with a start that she held Isis’s power, finally able to see it buzzing around her like lightning in a heat storm. She caught him staring at her.
“I am going to retrieve Lucius from Tartarus,” she said.
“No,” David said immediately, vividly recalling the grim world he’d just been trapped in. “I cannot let you go to that horrible place, Morrigan. It is unlike anything we have ever witnessed.”
He braced himself for her anger, but she surprised him with calm resolve. “Let us speak alone,” she said.
David nodded and followed her outside. The sky broke into a drizzle as a loud clap of thunder struck overhead, vibrating the ground beneath their feet.
Morrigan stopped to stand before him, unbothered by the mist dampening her hair. Her light eyes burned, her face locked in calm resolve. “David, I have to.”
“Perhaps we can bring him back here,” he pleaded.
“I am not afraid of the Netherworld, David. I am its mistress.” She folded her arms in front of her. Then she added softly, “Please don’t think it easy for me to speak about him to you, but I cannot—I will not—leave him down there. Even if that means I must die myself.”
David frowned. “I don’t want to imagine what Discordia said to you in my body, in my voice. I’m quite sure she used anything she could find in my head to upset you.”
“She sent me dreams of Ireland.” Morrigan smiled sadly.
“Ah.” David looked down at the damp earth then back up towards the sky, blinking away the raindrops. The thought of Gaia weaved through his mind. “I won’t stand before you and tell you that my love for you was not deep, nor will I lie and tell you I don’t love you still. You were my first, my real true love.”
Morrigan looked away.
He grabbed her hands so that her eyes found his. “But for a very long time, I have been plagued by guilt for taking you away from Lucius. I do not regret what happened, but every decision I have ever made since that moment has been because of guilt. The only way I can ever resolve it is if I finally let you go.”
Morrigan was quiet.
“I think guilt also binds you to me. You regretted leaving him, which is why you had to convince yourself you hated him, why you had to create an entirely different world where he did not exist so you could live happily with me. Even then, you let slip that you still longed for him. I chose to ignore it—I was blinded by my own stubbornness.”
He pulled the vision forward, sharing it with her: the two Celtic deities in ancient times, standing inside their stone palace, the hollow chamber echoing their sadness.
“Please do not go,” David pleaded as Daghda, his long, auburn beard overwhelmed with gray, striking evidence that the old god had aged. “You were gone for so long, I thought you’d never return. I was weak when she approached me. I was a damn fool. Please forgive me—it was not love or lust, it was sorrow.”
Morrigan stared back coldly, choosing to look like her true self instead of hiding behind her maiden aspect, her own hair streaked with white. “I do not need your apologies, nor do I want you to beg me to stay. You made a choice and I am honoring that choice. You should know by now I am not one who can simply ignore a slight made against me.”
He grabbed her arm in desperation, but the act only provoked her rage. She spun and kicked him, sending him sailing into his throne. She began to run but he hoisted himself to his feet, throwing his arms around her. Outside, clouds blackened the sun, the wind beginning to howl as a chorus of crows screeched their protestations. They dove into the chamber, but she held them back.
David grabbed her face, kissing her cheeks desperately. “Please forgive me, Morrigan. My wife. I have loved you for so very long, how could you doubt that I still do?”
“I do forgive you,” she growled, undeterred by his affections. “But you know better than to expect me to stay. If you love me as you say you do, then you will let me go. I have kept this from you, but there has been a voice calling to me that I have ignored. If you are allowed to find solace in others, then I should be allowed to find him.”
He released her, his heart shattered. “There it is. That is the reason you never felt like you were truly mine.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You will not blame me for your own transgressions,” she warned him. “I never once lay with another man whilst with you.”
“I know,” he said miserably. “I just cannot stand to think of life without you.”
“Then find me in another.” She turned on her heel and marched out of the throne room, her crows trailing behind her.
The memory faded as David stared into eyes that never changed. It unnerved him to revisit their most heartbreaking memory, reminding him of his agony when he found out she’d abandoned him on Earth to return to the Upperealms. How he abandoned the Tuatha de Danann, moving mountains so he could follow her.
“I did forgive you,” the present Morrigan pointed out, though she appeared equally grieved by the memory. “When you found me in the Upperrealms, I’d had time to contemplate, remembering our ancient past and how I was just as capable of betrayal myself. We both decided to move past it.”
“I know,” he said. “But still.”
“David,” she said suddenly. “There is more to the story than I ever told you… The woman you slept with bore you a son.”
“I know,” he told her, thinking of Gaia and Aengus. “I had a feeling you might have known.”
“Back then I was so swept up in furious jealousy, all I wanted to do was run. I thought you’d find out about the child and reunite on your own. You followed me to the Upperealms, but by then, I was so distracted by Lucius being free and rising to Earth with my sister—it was the farthest thing from my mind. I should have told you before you died.”
David studied her. “Did you kill him?”
“No,” she promised, her light eyes earnest. “As much as I hated that pathetic excuse for a goddess, I saw myself in her eyes. I didn’t want her to feel the pain of losing a child.”
David let out his breath. She still looked worried, and a small part of him still wanted to comfort her, though he knew it was no longer his place. “I’m glad I found out about him the way I did,” he told her honestly. “It’s not your fault we are constantly piecing together lost memories or that there is always some crisis to solve. We haven’t had much time to breathe, let alone revisit old wounds. I don’t hold it against you, Morrigan. I promise.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes glistening.
“Can I…”
She didn’t let him finish, moving forward so he could hold her one last time. He buried his face in her wet hair, reminded of the last time they were forced to violently part, when she drove a knife into his stomach. He closed his eyes, letting the rest of his senses appreciate her as he did back then. “My favorite memories will forever be the ones where we lived away from it all, just us, in an enchanted realm made of grassy knolls and silver moonlight,” he said softly. “But...it will never be just us, no matter how many ways we repeat this cycle. He is eternally my shadow.”
Morrigan pulled back, reaching up to touch his face. “I will always care for you, David, please know that,” she said with soft eyes. “Until the end of my days.”
He put his hand on hers, pressing it into his cheek. “I know you do, and I feel the same. And I do love you enough to let you go, to let you be happy with the one who you never stopped loving. The one who is supposed to have your heart.”
Tears streamed freely down her face. “Thank you,” she whispered.
He grabbed her hands in his, squeezing them as he leaned forward so their foreheads could rest against each other. They remained still for a moment, breathing each other’s air, listening to the song of each other’s blood running through their veins.
“Come,” he finally said as he pulled away. “Let us go save our shadow.”
She nodded, wiping her tears away with renewed determination. David turned to see Anubis and Libraean standing in the doorway.
“Is everything alright?” Anubis asked.
“Yes,” David nodded. “We need to open a portal.” He reached for Morrigan’s hand and together they walked back into the house.
cahira
She ignored the accumulating storm as she headed into the wild brush, stopping only to pull the knife from her boot to assist in cutting away a path. She heard a pack of hyenas cackling in the distance, the closest thing to the howling of wolves she could cling to as she marched farther and farther from civilization. The sweltering African jungle had its own beauty, but she missed the smell of evergreens, though she tried to appreciate the dense leaves and humming insects, the humid air, and the sensation that the majestic animals forged out of its red dust were near. She continued to chop until her arm got tired. She switched hands, alternating between arms as she hacked, chopped, and slashed her way forward. The sound was rhythmic and satisfying, distracting her from the hollow feeling that had settled in her bones.
She stopped once she heard rushing water, mystified to discover she’d found a waterfall. The pause in movement allowed the ache in her limbs to roar to life, and she tucked her knife back into her boot. She found a nearby rock to rest and watched the steady cascade of water splash into the tiny stream below, the wildlife around her humming and buzzing, unconcerned with the sweeping winds and electricity overhead.
She imagined a cave behind the waterfall and remembered herself as a child, healing from the wound in her side, wondering if the wolf she’d forced to be her companion was really going to come back for her or if she’d have to make the long journey alone. She pictured him climbing up the rocks to cheerfully reveal the rabbit he’d brought to feed her, remembering the overwhelming feeling of being loved. How the feeling frightened her, so she turned it off, although her physical self refused to leave his side. She recalled the emptiness that took her over when she was forced to. Even then, it was nothing compared to what she felt now.
Cahira wanted to cry but she was numb, feeling as though someone had cut open her chest, swirled their hands around her insides, and pulled out the tiny fragments of emotion she had left. Oh, how she wanted them back, cursing herself for abandoning them when he was still around. She should have appreciated them—appreciated each moment they spent together. How nothing was demanded of her, she simply was. And he loved her for it. She was a fool to think that being a supernatural being in a physical world made her impervious to death, that she would be spared from its sting. But the one whose life she had taken for granted was gone, and there was nothing that anyone could do. It was final, the door slammed shut, the Earth claiming her prize.
Cahira squeezed her eyes shut. She pretended he was sitting next to her, that they were back in their forest and she could feel his warmth again. She recalled the scent of pine and snow, the memory cutting through the scent of wild jungle and parched grass, crickets replacing tree frogs. “Please forgive me,” she whispered to no one as a tear finally made its way from the corner of her eye.
“There’s no need for that,” a voice replied.
Her eyes popped open and she scrambled to her feet, staring in disbelief at the apparition next to her. “How do I know you are real and not Discordia?” she immediately asked.
Dan’s visage gave her a sideways smile as he stared down at her with dark blue, adoring eyes. “Don’t worry, your mother killed me proper. It’s me.”
Cahira continued to stare as her eyes took in the rugged outline of his face, his long, matted silver hair, the matching crowns capping his teeth, and the tattoos etched across his body. He’d chosen to appear to her the way she remembered him.
“Are you a ghost then?” she whispered. She realized she was trembling.
“Something like that. My spirit lives in the Middleworld now.”
“Why didn’t you come to me earlier?”
“Well, I never truly died before,” he explained. “So I had no idea that dying takes your memories away. I’m only conscious of them now because a spirit named Helena found me and told me, reminding me that I left you and it was time to return. But even then, I had to wait for you to summon me first.”
Cahira grew quiet, struggling to believe what she was seeing was real. She could have fallen asleep from exhaustion, her consciousness given way to dreams. Then she remembered that godly apparitions were corporeal, naturally able to bend the realms where human spirits could not. “Can I touch you?” she whispered.
He pulled her into his chest. Every fiber of her being surrendered to the sensation of comfort, sighing with relief as she took in his piney scent and relished the warmth of his touch. She knew it wasn’t real, but for that moment, she would pretend it was. “I was going to bring you back,” she murmured into his chest.
He kissed her head, heated lips to her skin. “I was surprised to learn you hadn’t, but Helena explained you were trying to be patient. I have been at peace since I died. I reunited with Odin, the All-Father.”
She lifted her head. “Isn’t he your real father?”
He nodded. “We were wrong to assume Discordia killed all the gods. There are a great number of them who found ways to hide, many by making their homes in the Middleworld. Odin split his soul into four pieces long before she could find him. He put his spirit inside two crows, Hunin and Munin, who told me where to find David and who told David about Morrigan. He also put himself into two wolves, Freki...and Geri.”
“Our Geri?” Cahira said with surprise before murmuring, “I have always known something was off with her. That would explain why she is immortal.”
He nodded.
Cahira grew quiet again, enjoying the sensation of being nestled against him. “I do love you,” she said finally, enjoying how the words felt on her tongue. “I wish I would have said it to you a hundred times.”
“I know,” he murmured, his chest vibrating against her ear. “I didn’t know it then, but I know it now. I am so sorry I had to leave you.”
“How long can you stay?” she asked, suddenly remembering the others.
“As long as you’d like. Though I think right now you are needed elsewhere.” He looked up at the lightning-streaked sky.
She followed his eyes. “You’re not wrong,” she admitted with a sigh.
“Have you forgiven Morrigan yet?” he asked. “She did take down Angelique for us all.”
“How did you know I was angry with her?”
“Because I know you.” His chest rumbled with laughter.
Cahira thought for a moment, realizing the rage she had been holding on to had long melted away, unable to maintain its momentum. “I’ve forgiven her,” she told him.
“Good,” Dan nodded. “I knew you would be upset with us, but I hoped you wouldn’t take it out on her. I bear the painful memories of her fighting the Wolf to protect you. A woman who chooses to mother a child that is not hers and defends her with her very life offers the sort of love that transcends all else.”
Cahira felt a jab in her chest. “I should go back and help her.”
“Before you do, I want to tell you one last story. This one is about a little soul so powerful, she brought the Morrigan to life just by listening to her sing. The goddess became her mother, protecting her until she met a ferocious wolf who the little soul bent to her will. Yet even after she released him from servitude, the wolf made a vow to himself to protect her, even beyond death. Even as the little girl grew physically stronger, she forgot the power inside. That she could move mountains with her mind, bend the realms as she desires, and bring gods to life with her will.”
Cahira stared. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
Dan gave her a shrug, though he couldn’t hold back his smile. “I’ve never been a patron god before. I think it might be fun to try it out.”
Without another word, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, tasting minty pine as a burst of cold air jostled her hair until her braid came loose, flowing freely behind her with his hair still attached to it. His lips were soft behind his rugged beard, scratching her own lips in a pleasant way as his arms wrapped around her, pressing her up against his broad chest. She was lost for a moment before she pulled away, surprised by the sensations that consumed her. She realized no words needed to be said, no spells needed cast, that just the simple kiss had brought him back to her.
“So that’s what it’s like kissing you,” she whispered, fighting against the gentle sway of dizziness.
He looked equally bewildered, but chuckled. “I won’t mind if we make that a habit.”
Cahira stared at him, drinking in his kind, sapphire eyes and wild silver hair. “So you are now my patron god,” she said in wonder. She touched his face again to confirm it, running her fingers through his beard. He was truly corporeal, bound to her like her mother once was. “Will you be coming with me then?”
“This part of the war is not mine to fight,” he told her. “So I will busy myself by preparing for our journey home. You and I belong in the mountains.” He kissed her once more, any hesitation that used to plague their relationship gone. “I will be waiting when you return.”
Still dazed, Cahira nodded, backing away from him with shaky legs. “Is this real?” she asked him again.
A laugh tumbled out of his chest. “I’ve never once seen you doubt your own power. Don’t start now.”
She grinned. “I can’t argue with that.”
“I promise I will be here when you return,” he repeated, recognizing her hesitancy.
She gave a firm nod and wrenched herself away before she lost her nerve, running out of the jungle and back through the path she’d made towards the house. The outer torches were lit, fighting against the turbulent weather that still had yet to settle, though the ocean had finally calmed. She noticed Sandrine was waiting for her right outside, leaned up against the wall, an indiscernible shadow save for the outline of her hair.
“Did you find what you were looking for?”
“Not the way I thought I wanted, but yes,” Cahira stammered, hoping she wouldn’t see her reddening cheeks. “Where is everyone?”
“Waiting inside,” she replied. “But before you go in, I must speak with you. There is something I need to confess. The first time Lesplaies and I came here, there was a reason he was able to unleash the plague without me knowing. It’s because I was distracted. The reason that Queen Hangbe chose me as leader of her warriors is because she forced me to endure a possession. The spirit was a piece of Isis’s soul, trapped in the branch of her acacia tree, stolen from Egypt and brought here. I was the only one strong enough to bear it. I never once used her power; in fact, I pretended as though it didn’t exist. It was my way to rebel against what was done to me. When I came back to Africa as a vampire, I left Lesplaies to travel to Egypt, where I put Isis’s power back into the old acacia that still will not die.”
Cahira was stunned. “That was over a hundred years ago—the power would have long leaked out of its roots.”
Sandrine nodded. “It’s the reason I am making this choice. I left a piece of Isis’s power unattended, letting Lesplaies murder hundreds with his plague. For that, I am responsible. I will be staying here in Africa. I plan to keep an eye on the power that I unleashed and ensure it never gets into the wrong hands, as it did with Discordia. It’s my way of making amends to the deaths I caused.”
“His plague was not your fault.”
Sandrine sighed. “I’ve never quite connected to my life as a goddess, Cahira. I feel drawn to my human life first—my life as an African warrior. This is where I belong, helping the humans I am connected to in my own homeland. I lent myself to your godly cause, but Morrigan has taken down Angelique for good. The discord with the Watchers does not involve me. I think it is best that I move on. Please forgive me for not telling you.”
Cahira nodded, though her sorrow had returned. “I hold nothing against you, but my heart is heavy that we must part. We have been together for a very long time.”
Sandrine’s stony exterior melted to reveal a vulnerability she rarely trusted with another. “You are the closest I have ever had to family,” she admitted. “But, like you, I am a lone wolf. We were once connected by a common cause—to rid the world of Angelique and her demons. Now we are free to resume our natural ways.”
“I understand.” Cahira nodded. “I will miss you though.”
Sandrine grabbed her arm in the old style of handshake, meeting her eyes. “And I will miss you. If you ever need me again, you must promise that you will find me.”
Cahira clenched her jaw against her rising emotion, offering instead a firm nod.
Then Sandrine was gone, with no further word, no further action, her figure enveloped instantly by the darkness.
Cahira let out a deep exhale. Although she fought the steady foreboding tremble that persists when loved ones part, she knew Sandrine was right. To beg her to stay would be asking her to sacrifice her true nature. And to Cahira, that was the antithesis of love.
She headed back into Anubis’s house with slow and heavy steps. The torch light flickered in the wind as she approached.
Morrigan, Anubis, David, Libraean, and Thomas stood in the main room, and as soon as David saw her enter, he immediately rose to his feet. “We need to open a portal to Tartarus,” he said without greeting.
“Since the beginning of this trip, I wanted to do exactly that and no one wanted to hear it,” she said, half in jest.
“I am sorry I tried to persuade you not to save Dan,” Morrigan broke in. “Especially since I have decided to retrieve Lucius from the very same place.” She looked different, a peculiar energy flickering around her, bringing flecks of emerald into her eyes. Cahira picked up whispers as she drew closer and, with a start, she realized the same spirits who once guided her path to David were now running through Morrigan’s veins.
Morrigan smiled, as if knowing exactly what she was thinking.
Cahira resumed focus on their conversation. “You do not need to apologize,” she told her. “You were right. Dan chose to die to save my life, and it was right for me to honor that choice. I no longer hold any resentment towards you for your decision to do what I could not.”
Morrigan did not speak, but a trace smile appeared on her lips, the swirling sky blue and sea greens of her eyes full of emotion.
Cahira moved to the front of the fireplace to address them all. “I have spent the last few months disconnected from the spirit world, so focused on my own desires that I could not see what was plainly in front of me. All of us knew we should be together to restore the realms, and that is true. Morrigan, Anubis, and Thomas are death gods—you three can open the portal to Tartarus to retrieve Lucius. As far as the rest of us,” she looked between David and Libraean, “I have a plan. It’s time to put this all behind us.”
morrigan
Her world was drenched in color, swirling and vibrating as what was left of her family spoke amongst each other. She still held Isis’s hand, the falcon and the crow standing in quiet observation, though no one else could see it.
“I think I finally understand love,” Isis murmured from beside her.
Well, please enlighten me, because I have yet to understand it, Morrigan replied in her mind.
“It is not chaos, as Discordia proclaimed. It is the opposite—what keeps the world in a state of ma’at, balancing all the pain and hatred.”
Love can be painful.
“Lust perhaps, but love itself is beautiful. It is what I felt for you when you told me of your affair with Osiris, and when you asked me to watch over your children. It is what enables David to let you go. It is what makes Libraean care for David, what helped Cahira come up with a way to save the realms. What pushed young Anubis to prevent you from taking your own life. What has kept Lucius alive for so long. Anything Discordia has thrown at us, love has defeated it.”
Morrigan raised an eyebrow, feeling both surprised and moved. You turned out to be quite the romantic after all.
Isis laughed. “I have been existing silently beside you for quite a while now. I see what you cannot.”
Morrigan smiled, though sadness wove its way around her heart as she gazed at her. You were smart to split your soul to prevent Discordia from being all powerful, but it pains me that you will never exist whole.
“You should know better than to say never.”
“Morrigan,” David’s voice interrupted. “Are you ready?”
She was grateful to observe eyes that resumed their softness when he looked at her. Even if they could no longer be lovers, the world felt better when they were at peace.
“Allow me one last thing,” she said. Then she went to Cahira, taking her by the hands. Morrigan was pleased she didn’t recoil, enjoying the warmth of her hands against the coolness of her skin. “I have something for you.”
Cahira nodded as if she already knew.
Morrigan suddenly saw her sister and herself running in the fields, Heka and Lilith painfully young and blissfully unaware of what would soon befall them. Little Morrigan hurried to keep up with her sister, but she’d already transformed into a black kite, her wings spread out as she soared and dove in the clear blue expanse dotted with clouds. Morrigan followed suit, the two weaving together as they cut through the skies in a spiraling dance, wild, happy, and free.
The vision ended to reveal Cahira’s face staring back at her, two tears neatly streaming down her face. Isis’s apparition had vanished.
“Thank you,” Cahira whispered. She learned forward and she kissed Morrigan’s cheek.
Morrigan smiled, assured her sister was finally at peace.
“You are now the Earth’s protector,” Anubis told Cahira from beside her. “While the rest of us have ties to other realms, the Earth is yours, blessed by Isis.” He gestured to the rest of the gods who had gathered around her. “And we will all protect you.”
Cahira nodded, her strong facade crumbling with emotion.
Morrigan seized the opportunity to embrace her. “I deeply regret how things turned out for us in this life, but I cannot think of a better vessel for my sister’s soul. I am honored to have helped raise you.”
Cahira did not speak, but squeezed her back tightly in reply.
Morrigan gradually pulled away, echoes of her sister’s voice and young Cahira’s laughter in her mind. “I am ready now,” she told Anubis. He nodded and, as they headed out the door, she found David’s eyes.
His jaw trembled but stayed tight, battling tears she knew threatened to spill from his soulful eyes. “In another life,” he said softly.
Morrigan swallowed. “We do tend to find each other,” she agreed. Though her insides screamed, she forced one last playful smile, and darted after her son. She pictured Lucius’s face, forcing herself to remember why she made her decision.
Anubis slipped his hand around hers as they headed back towards the temple, Thomas trailing behind. He lifted the draped leaves so they could enter, revealing Helena waiting for them inside.
Though he spoke quietly, Anubis’s deep voice resounded throughout the chamber. “The only way to send a creature to Tartarus is to kill them, but even then, they must be an abominable being. I can open the portal, but after that, I am at a loss.”
“I am an abominable creature,” Morrigan told him quietly. “I killed David’s lover in Ireland, long ago.”
“You were a goddess enacting vengeance on one who disrespected you,” Helena spoke up. “That is not an atrocious act. Besides, you spared her son.”
Morrigan looked up at her, realizing that as a spirit, Helena had access to all knowledge. Pangs of regret descended upon her as she pictured Boann’s face, horrified to learn she’d spend her eternity as a river. “I have killed more humans than can be counted,” Morrigan insisted.
“You only killed one in this lifetime, and he threatened you,” Helena argued.
Morrigan blinked, taken aback. She was right. “Then what should we do?”
“If I may,” Thomas gently interrupted. “There might be another way.”
“Do tell.” Morrigan turned towards him.
“I have often wondered, when considering your history in Egypt—how was Set banished to Tartarus?”
Morrigan looked to Anubis, but he shook his head. “Tartarus already existed before I took him there. I did not create it.”
Morrigan grew quiet, sweeping away the cobwebs that cluttered her mind to her days as Nephthys. Then it hit her. “Because I created it to send him there.”
Thomas nodded, warmth in his brown eyes. “You are the creator of realms. If you want to go to Tartarus, send yourself there.”
She clasped his hands. “Thank you,” she whispered. Then she turned toward her son, and took his arm. “I am ready.”
* * *
The air around them grew thick and hot as they sat in the temple, like the sweltering jungle right before a monsoon. Although hundreds of candles smoldered all around them, she could not see, her son’s glowing blue eyes the only thing visible in the darkness as he chanted. She heard the distant beat of drums keeping time with her own heart as she relaxed into an ancient world she had long forgotten, the place where her soul had been born. Her son was now the jackal, the god Thoth standing beside him, working together to pull Nephthys out of hiding. The drumbeats soon shifted into the chanting of Egyptian priests, the incense smoke biting the air as Anubis traced symbols on her forehead and eyes with oil. He stood back as violent purple flickered around his skin like heat lightning, raising his power until it trickled out of his fingertips. It fell to the ground in a circle, where the souls of the chanting priests sprang up, strips of linen hanging from their necrotic, mummified flesh. They bowed to Morrigan, singing her praises with rotting mouths as the ground opened at her feet. The heat of the room intensified, but she was kept cool, her own manifestation of power—black shadows—swirling around her for protection. The priests were soon joined by other nameless souls, drawn to the one who once cared for them, preparing to carry her home.
She closed her eyes, thinking of David, Cahira, and the precious Earth she was leaving behind. Then she saw his face, his adoring golden eyes, and she let herself go, suddenly weightless.
The souls guided her as she floated down through the barriers between realms, their frayed spaces bending easily to her presence. But what met her as she landed was not the shadowy realm she remembered, but a blast of raging fire and scalding heat. Intensely bright and suffocating, she shut her eyes against it as the souls pulled her through the worst until they reached a calm space to lay her down. Then they lingered, as if hoping she’d give them a resting place better than where they currently stood. She quickly envisioned the Underworld that she remembered—the one that she and Lucius had created, with its towering Records Hall, the obsidian mountains, and indigo pools. She waited until it was perfectly clear in her mind before she whispered, Go. And it was suddenly so. When she opened her eyes, they had all disappeared.
What met her instead were the empty eyes of an overgrown crow skull, which cocked its head to the side as it examined her with intrigue. She sat up to observe her surroundings, the world around her painted in shades of rust and burnt orange. A reddish haze snaked through a cemetery formed out of mushrooming human bones. The crow skeleton cocked its head to the other side and decided to move on, tugging bits of rotten flesh from some of the remains. One batted the crow away with its bony arm, its putrefying eyes still rolling around in its sockets.
Morrigan noticed some wore clothing from a century prior, their leftover skin pockmarked from disease. They didn’t match others splayed out in shambles, so old they grew fungi out of their crevices. “You do not belong down here,” she realized as she rose to her feet, startling the dead crow who flapped at the stale air.
The living skeletons began to lift themselves out of their plots, groaning as she heard their voices loud in her mind: We don’t belong here, please…we just want to rest.
Go, she commanded as she thought of her Underworld once more. Their gruesome physical husks fell immediately into dust, leaving behind ethereal human apparitions who floated peacefully and disappeared into the caliginous space above them. She smiled, satisfied, although the crow was not, and she gathered up her black skirts to leave the field of bones. She caught the attention of a few leathery demons that had been scuttling around in search of food, who now stared at her with open curiosity. They bowed as she walked past, their bones cracking and popping with movement as they squeaked like overgrown rats with wings. She marched past them through the Hall of Titans, who groaned and grumbled, the sound reverberating through the passageway. Every demon she passed immediately gave her a deep bow, even the horrible wolf that flew up to her before realizing who she was. She gave him a hateful sneer, remembering when he tore her apart on Earth a century ago. He retreated as quickly as he’d approached.
She eventually reached Phlegethon, once a winding river and now a lake of fire that covered the Elysian Plains, the place in Hades where souls could rest in peace. She pooled a white mist together to surround her in a watery veil, protecting her from the heat as she stood at its banks, gathering it up in a great, swirling ball. Then she pushed the fallen rocks back where they belonged, and trapped the flow of lava in its original place so the plains were free.
Satisfied, she turned to see dozens of demons gathered around her in awe. She ignored them, intent on finishing her work, correcting the places that once belonged to other realms with careful sweeps of her arms. She passed by the old Asphodel Meadows, a dank, sunless space where the disembodied spirits once wept and wailed, now overcrowded with the souls she’d sent there. She showed them the cleared Plains in her mind, and dozens headed back that way, revealing a towering mountain range made of rock and bone. She blinked when part of it moved, recognizing the bulky shape she’d mistakenly assumed was stationary.
“Cerberus,” she said in disbelief. He immediately shrunk down to her size, wagging his tail as he ran to her, all three heads panting happily, pink tongues hanging out of their mouths. “You’re still alive,” she said in wonder as she ran her fingers through his fur. “Is he here?”
Cerberus abruptly grew back into his giant proportion, bowing his three heads so she could use one to climb onto his back.
“That is very kind of you, thank you,” she said as she seated herself between his massive shoulder blades. She held onto his fur as he lifted her up, taking her past the deepest places of torment and lakes of trapped bodies, straight into the mountain range itself. He dropped her off at the mouth of a cave, gesturing inside with his heads. She patted him again, advancing into the darkness until she finally reached the cold world she remembered.
She saw him from the back, standing shirtless with his hands on his hips, admiring the palace he was in the process of rebuilding. Hades’s towering obsidian palace was nearly complete as demons carried the fragmented chunks of stone forward, the sounds of clanking tools echoing throughout the empty hills. In the distance was a deep crater that once held the River Styx, its waters trapped by the mountains she’d just walked through. She could see sweat dripping down the muscular curvature of his back as she crept closer, running fingers through hair he’d apparently decided to keep short, even in the Netherworld.
But when he sensed her, immediately whipping around to see if his senses were betraying him, he looked like a mix of all of them—Set, Lucifer, Lucius, and Louis—a blend of all his faces possessing the same brilliant gold eyes.
He froze, staring in utter disbelief.
As much as she felt like throwing her arms around him, she marched up to him instead, shoving him as hard as she could and knocking him to the ground. “How could you kill yourself without telling me?” she demanded.
He scowled, jumping back to his feet. “You were the one who left me, remember?”
“What are you talking about?” She glared at him, hands on her hips.
“When you came back from contacting Jacob, Anubis and Cahira told me you’d left,” he told her. “We didn’t hear from you for days.”
“I was gone that long?” She frowned, looking away as she tried to piece things together.
“Morrigan, why are you here?” he asked softly, emotion thick in his voice.
“Because you are here!” she said in exasperation.
“Please don’t shove me again,” he said as he put his hands up in defense. “I thought you’d run off again, upset that I killed Jacob, perhaps upset from the things I showed you about myself…” He trailed off, unnerved by his own admission.
“So you let yourself die? That is absolutely ridiculous.”
“I assumed you’d finally made your decision,” he added quietly.
“I did make my decision!” Her anger rose again, followed by a rumble as a boulder crashed to the ground from the mountains, releasing a gush of water that filled the empty River Styx. The force of the water loosened the rock that had been blocking the lake, joining the two as it had been before. “I have chosen you a dozen times over.”
“Throughout our long history, you have always chosen him in the end,” Lucius pointed out. “You may enjoy me for a moment, but you always go back. And I cannot chase you anymore. I know I love you completely, but if you’re happier with him, then you should be with him. How can I proclaim my love for you, but not allow you to be happy?”
Morrigan was stunned.
“That being said, I have no desire to live on Earth without you and I’m quite certain I could not physically handle witnessing your reconciliation with David. I can make do here, like I’ve always done.”
“You are the decision I should have always made,” she insisted. “I had hoped you saw that in me.”
He softened as he searched her eyes. “Please forgive me, I should have trusted you.” He crept closer with the careful approach one uses with a wild animal. “I wanted to, but there was too much noise in the background, preying on the nagging voice that tells me otherwise.”
Morrigan sighed. “I know I must earn your trust again. But perhaps we can both stop running from each other until then?”
“I can do that,” he agreed. His lips turned up in a sideways smile. “In any case, I did feel bad leaving David down here. He’s far too delicate for this realm.”
She matched his grin with a roll of her eyes. “I did figure out that part on my own. Also, you were right from the beginning—the Holy Watchers didn’t want any gods to live, but they were targeting me specifically because I am the one who created the realms. They wanted you gone, not only because you helped me build them—even inspiring me to create Tartarus and the Upperrealms—but because you protect me at all costs. Even when I don’t want you to. There was no getting rid of me unless they first got rid of you.”
Lucius gazed at her with adoration. “I do love your mind.”
“As mad as I am that you came here without me,” she continued, “you knew this was what we had to do—it was our part in saving the realms. To come back here and rebuild them all. You just wanted it to be my choice to make…and I made it.”
“Can I please hold you now?”
She smiled, and he pulled her tightly against him. She sighed with relief, grateful to be back where she belonged.
He rested his face against her hair. “All I ever really wanted was for you to want to be here,” he murmured.
“I think all I ever wanted was the choice,” she said against the warmth of his chest. “I realized that as furious as you make me, I don’t want to live in a world without you.”
“And my brother?”
Morrigan lifted her head to meet his eyes. “He has chosen to let me—let us go. I think it’s high time we all moved on.”
“Then you must promise me that if you need to return to Earth, you do so,” he told her. “I might have finally made peace with my place in the Netherrealms, but I don’t ever want you to feel trapped and restless again. I will do my best to trust you. Besides, you’ve discovered you’re a liminal deity now, like David. Somehow you can both move between the realms without much effort. There must be a reason why.”
“Thank you.” She smiled. “But I do think I’ll be down here for quite a bit of time.” She took his hands from behind her back and guided them so they rested on the low part of her stomach. “I seem to have picked up a pair of twins along the way.”
Lucius blinked several times in shock, his mind racing behind his eyes to understand what she just told him, before tears beaded their corners. “Is it true?” he whispered.
She grazed his lips with hers. “They were peacefully awaiting you in the Middleworld and recognized me immediately. I’m thinking we should call them by the names they once had—Ashera and Abi.”
Lucius grabbed her face, covering her with kisses and squeezing her joyfully before hoisting her up in the air. Tears freely streamed down his cheeks, his face lit up with the happiest expression she had ever seen on his face, his eyes like radiant stars in the night sky.
“Come,” he said, kissing her again as he carried her up the steps towards Hades’s palace. “We have a lot of rebuilding to do.”
David
The Watchers stared at him coldly from behind their human facades. The atmosphere was tight and still, a far cry from the pleasant ethereal realm he’d once visited. All three of them stood with their arms crossed in front of them, Michael’s lips pressed into a hateful line.
“I am not here for war,” David told them, “but to offer you an accord. We have successfully avoided all of your attempts to stifle us. The goddess Discordia is now dead, her minions purposelessly roaming Earth until they are found and killed by Cahira. Lucius and Morrigan are rebuilding the Underworld, and will soon be joined by the other death gods hiding in the Middleworld. You have lost.”
“Did you come here to gloat?”
“Not in the slightest. But we cannot let go of what you have done. You murdered the Council that Anubis created to protect the realms, and you have done anything but. It would only be fair that we destroy your realm like you did ours. But we know your Holy One is loved by many, and Jesus has persuaded us that He is not to blame—His sycophants are.
“You can stay here in the Kingdom of Heaven, but you must stop interfering in the affairs of the other gods. In turn, we will leave you in peace. You will no longer act as the Council—Cahira, Morrigan, Lucius and myself will take our rightful place, with Anubis and Libraean standing in for Lucius and Morrigan while they are in the Underworld. You can have your own Council here, but you will reinstate Gabriel. He will keep an eye on you to make sure you are following the new rules. I wouldn’t attempt to get rid of him, for Jesus has agreed to this plan and plans on protecting his trusted friend.”
Michael’s scowl did not move. “Is that all?”
“Almost.” David smiled back. “You can keep your Kingdom, but I will be taking back control of the Upperrealms. They were not even yours to begin with. I will take Gaia’s Forest and you will let any other gods who ascend have whatever else is available. Libraean will be in charge of it all—he is a remarkable record keeper and you are lucky to have him guide you. As far as the humans are concerned, you can continue to have your religions and your rules, but you will cease your torment of those who do not choose to believe in your ways. You may quarrel amongst each other, but you will leave those who practice the old ways alone.”
“Is that all?” Michael repeated coldly.
“Yes,” David said as he headed out of the Tower. “And God help you if you cross us again.”
No one moved to stop him, but the realm shuddered as the Tower that was once firmly planted in the atmospheric island promptly disappeared from sight, taking the clouds and fog with them. David turned to see Libraean and Jacob, both restored to their younger selves. Strikingly blonde and handsome, Libraean’s clear blue eyes rivaled Morrigan’s; they were completely restored with his death, a gift finally given to him, as well as the one that allowed him to finally join his true love. Tears amassed in his eyes now as Jacob, then he, gave David a warm embrace.
“You must visit,” Libraean told him.
“I will,” David promised.
“You are welcome any time in Jesus’s realm, as well,” Jacob said.
“Thank you.” David smiled. In his peripheral vision, he saw the outline of two others on shore waiting for him.
Libraean gave him one final squeeze. “Go. Please be happy for once.”
David tried not to show the struggle to leave his oldest friend, but the gentle beckoning of Gaia and his son soothed him as it pulled. He moved to join them, not having to look back to know the men who played his fathers had disappeared. He was fully convinced they would handle the heavenly affairs.
Gaia squeezed David so tightly he thought he might stop breathing, as his grown son beamed at him, his hands at his waist.
“Welcome back,” he said.
“Thank you,” David said breathlessly.
Gaia released him from her grasp, only to take his face in her hands and smother it with kisses.
“Let him breathe.” Aengus laughed.
“Okay, okay.” Gaia finally took a step back. The grin on her face refused to fade, her cheeks flushed a rosy pink. “Did you learn that Aengus is not my actual son?”
“You are just as much his mother as Boann, but yes,” David told her. “How did you find each other?”
“When Boann found out she’d spend the rest of her immortal life as a river, she sent out a petition for Danu to watch over his soul,” Gaia explained. “Danu honored her promise and, right before Discordia ended her life, she sent him to me.”
“I’m glad to finally know you,” David told his son. “I regret I never had the opportunity in life.”
“Well, we have an eternity to do so.” Aengus smiled, looking very much like young Davius from Ancient Rome.
“You are staying, right?” Gaia asked, suddenly concerned.
David cupped her shoulder. “There is more to be done on Earth, enough that I must stay planted there. Things are resolved for now, but that doesn’t mean the balance won’t tip again. However, I did finally realize, after all that time of thinking my physical body was failing me, that I am a realm traveler, meant to move freely between them, not force myself to stay in one place. I believe I am supposed to spend my time where I want, and return when I’m needed.”
“What about the others?”
“Morrigan and Lucius are restoring the Netherrealms,” he told her. “Unbeknownst to us, Sandrine and Anubis worked out a plan for her to take over his position in Africa, where she hopes to find and guide those who have inherited the remnants of Isis’s heka. Anubis has resumed his work as guardian of the dead in the Middleworld with Helena. Thomas has offered to take up residence at Lardone Manor, joined by Dan and Cahira when they are not off hunting the rest of Angelique’s demons and recruiting lost gods to come back with them. We have decided to open the house to all reincarnated gods, until everything is back in order. Apparently, Lucius foresaw all of this happening, including his own death, and instructed his lawyers to entrust his entire estate to us.”
Gaia looked surprised, but satisfied by his response. “Then everything is as it should be.”
“Yes, I think it is.” David looked up to see that Aengus had disappeared.
“He likes to be on his own,” Gaia told him as she slipped her hand in his. “He knows we need our time.”
He beamed down at her. “Let’s go home.”
With that, the two lovers walked along the shore, hand in hand under the sunset, its rays throwing gold and copper along their freckled skin, brightening their auburn hair.