“It's not her!” Nanshe yelled. “It's only a projection. She's not nearly as strong as she should be I her true form. Focus on the Hollows. Removing and killing them will break her hold.”
Carlo, Lennox, and Teague redoubled their efforts, burning the Hollows to a crisp, slitting their throats with sharp claws and teeth, bursting their heads open with song. The men moved as one, not saying anything or directing the battle, yet their motions were almost choreographed as if they had fought together countless times before. Their joint need to save one of their own was much stronger than any one of them having to take the lead.
As they get got closer to where Skuld held Kallan in the air, the replica of Skuld screeched, throwing the black cloud out from her like a thousand fingers, searching for any enemy to take down. But the men danced around the tendrils, focusing on the Hollows as Nanshe had told them.
“When I tell you it's time, I need you all to jump at him and grab any part of his body.”
They all grunted their assent before attacking the Hollows more viciously after Nanshe positioned herself in the center.
“Now!”
They all jumped in unison. Carlo grabbed Kallan's legs, Lennox grabbed his right arm, and Teague grabbed his right. Nanshe hovered above them all, wrapping her arms around Kallan’s neck and sending in white light to blast away the dark cloud.
“Now, the past overcomes the future as it always once was. Past is now the ruler. Bow before its weight. Bow before its majesty.”
Nanshe’s words were a mantra, a prayer, a ritual, and they pulsed with power and conviction through the room. The light grew brighter and brighter as the dust swirled in a whirlwind of strength, until everything finally dissipated.
The Forgotten Tower disappeared, the room with archways and rooms shattered, fractured in the Chaos. Pieces dwindled until they were minuscule atoms fading into the darkness. If Carlo hadn't had his hands on Kallan, he would have felt he was alone.
He hovered in the air, weightless. A piece of nothing until the room spun and wind buffeted his skin. Then he dropped down to pure white with a groan. The men got to their feet.
“Where the hell are we?”
Nanshe rested, and Carlo choked when he took another look at her. His breath stilled in his chest and his heart beat against his ribcage. Nanshe was much different here, her white hair flared around her shoulders. Her skin was more vibrant, and the black horns around her ears were shiny as jewels.
“Welcome to my home. Welcome to my domain. You are now within Ashes, and here is where I have the most power. Here is where I can be who I truly am.” Nanshe's voice echoed through the room, multiplying itself. Layers of past, layers of information, on top of each other all at once.
Carlo had never heard such a beautiful sound, and it was all coming from her.
“What the fuck?” Teague whispered, trying to get to his feet.
They were struck with awe as they looked around the room.
This was much more than he ever had seen. Pristine white, almost blindingly so, was around every inch of the room. There was no color, no vibrancy, nothing. It was a milk-washed world. The furniture was carved from the stone itself—even the cushions were white. The filigree around the edges were perfect decorations carved by artesian hands.
This was a place of beauty. Yet it was removed from the vibrancy of life. How could she have stayed here being touched by nothing?
Nanshe smiled at Carlo, and the soft sadness in her touched him. “It is easier to see nothing to remove so many imputes of the past. Life is too painful to see in true color.”
Her words sent a pang of denial through him, but he couldn't understand why. The beauty of this place didn’t belong around Nanshe. Though he could admit it was breathtaking, it didn’t fit her and wasn’t something she deserved.
She should have been in gold and vibrant blues and greens. She should have been surrounded in delicate palm fans with the sea-salt air kissing her skin. She should have been somewhere so different. And once again, Carlo was pulled into a vision, another time when Nanshe wore different clothes. He shook his head to disperse the picture in his head. He had no idea where it was from or why it felt like he knew it, why he should have recognized it, or why the sense of home filled his breast.
“You left Asherah in the Forgotten Tower.” Rage took over Kallan’s features. “We can’t go back without her. We need to find out where Skuld is holding her and get there before Skuld strengthens her defenses.”
The fucker could barely catch his breath and was bleeding out from the wound in his chest, but he didn’t seem to care about that. Carlo growled in warning. No one was going to talk to his mate like that, wounded or otherwise.
Nanshe struggled to her feet. “She isn't there. If Skuld’s replica is guarding this place, Skuld isn't within her territory. Skuld would never leave Asherah if she were. We are missing something, and it is going to take time for us to figure out what it is.”
“We don'thavetime,” Teague argued. “We need to get to her as quickly as possible and make sure she's safe.”
Nanshe shook her head. “Kallan is wounded and needs healing. We don't have a choice but to wait. You may want things to happen when you want them to, but the flow of time can’t be controlled by any man. Well–"
Her back stiffened as tremors rack through her body and she was tossed to the ground with a cry.
Carlo was at her side in a moment, pulling her into his arms. “Let it go. Whatever you were trying to say, let it go. It is not important now.”
Nanshe sighed, going slack. “I wish I could tell you. I wish I could show you so much, but I can't. My power has rules, and they cannot be denied.”
