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“It is…our pleasure…to serve,” the ebiki queen growls before advancing on Etzli again.
Except now, the goddess has another trick up her sleeve. She gestures, and a door opens, one that connects to the battle outside Hemaira’s gates. There’s a pause in the sands as the nearby soldiers freeze, already unnerved, no doubt, by the hordes of ebiki trampling the armies of the gods.
Then something swoops over them. A familiar leather-winged figure.
“Do not touch her!” Melanis shrieks as she dives into the chamber, droplets of gold flying in her path. She’s now so severely wounded, she’s bleeding in several places.
She attempts to slam into Ayo, only to be pummeled aside by White Hands, who charges through the now-closing door, Sayuri at her side. As Melanis shrieks, infuriated by this interference, White Hands holds out her hand and whispers.
“To ash,” the Firstborn commands.
And Melanis plummets to the floor, one of her wings dissolving to dust.
Behind them, Sayuri palms her spear as if she doesn’t even see Ayo and Etzli fighting. “My turn,” she rumbles, and then, as Melanis flaps there, still shrieking, she stabs her through the other wing, tearing the leathery appendage to shreds.
White Hands taps her out of the way, then beckons for Melanis to stand. “My turn again,” she says grimly, stepping in front of her sister.
Melanis forces herself back up with a hateful sneer. “Two against one,” she growls. “Such fair odds.”
“This was never about fairness,” White Hands says calmly as Sayuri walks to her side.
They both stare at Melanis as they begin to speak. “Melanis the Bright, second-born of the Gilded Ones,” White Hands and Sayuri say together. “For your crimes against your sisters and against this realm, we shall end you now.”
“With what?” Melanis spits. “You don’t even know my final death. Do your wor—”
White Hands’s punch lands at the same time Sayuri’s spear pierces Melanis’s stomach. I only barely hear the words, “To ash,” and then the ancient alaki collapses to dust upon the chamber floor.
The spear lands on top of the mound it formed, its solitary clink the only sound that heralds the death of Melanis the Bright, once the most beloved of all the Gilded Ones’ daughters.
White Hands clicks her tongue. “Of course we know your death, dearest sister. We’ve always known it. We just hoped you would stop being hateful before we had to use it.” She turns to me. “Greetings, Deka,” she says conversationally. “Still at it?”
“Only just now sorting things out.”
“Better late than never” is her calm reply.
As I watch her, a movement stirs beside me. My companions are gathering. Keita is holding something in his hand: the box. “Here it is,” he says quietly. “What do you want to do now?”
“What do I want?” I repeat. I ponder the question until a rattle sounds from my throat—a very familiar one. “I’m dying,” I say, somehow surprised.
I’ve been dying all this while, and yet my final moments still come as something of a shock.
“Oh, Deka,” Britta says. Tears in her eyes, she grasps my hand tighter.
Keita does the same with the other one, his grip slipping because of just how much blood is flowing down my fingers. I’m cold now. So very cold. Everything is becoming muted. I can’t even hear the fighting happening around me.
Not that it matters anymore. Ayo has Etzli under control, and, more to the point, I’m not afraid of her anymore. I’m not afraid of any of the gods. All this time, I’ve feared their power, forgetting that I had my own.
And they can’t take what wasn’t theirs in the first place. I had to give it. That’s why they did everything they did. Why they told me so many lies. So I’d be so scared, or worse, so grateful, I’d give everything of myself to them.
And the worst thing is, I almost did.
I almost believed their lies, even up until the end.
I blink, my eyes unseeing, as a warm weight curls over my body. Ixa, once more in his kitten form. Ixa make Deka warm again, he says plaintively, trying to share his heat.
But it’s too late. Much too late.
I thank him nonetheless. Thank you, Ixa, I whisper. I love you.
