Page 93 of She Who Holds My Wrath

“There is more you must know,” Sariya says quietly. “Korithax did not return unchanged.”

Maelkar scoffs under his breath. “Understatement of the century.”

She shoots him a look before continuing, her golden-amber eyes grave. “The Void touched him when he died. And the ritual Velentha used, pulled that corruption straight into his core.”

I frown, the word settling uneasily. “The Void?”

Maelkar shifts beside me, arms folding tighter across his chest, his shadows stirring faintly at his feet. “Sounds charming.”

Elyistria rounds the table and closes the grimoire with a soft thud. “The Void is older than realms,” she says. “Older than gods. It is the space between existence and unmaking. The hollow dark beyond death where souls are not meant to linger.”

Sariya nods, stepping beside Elyistria as golden light spills over the maps beneath her fingertips, illuminating nothing and everything all at once.

“It is not the afterlife, nor any realm that can be walked,” she explains. “It is emptiness beyond the veil. A place where souls unravel if they remain too long.”

A chill crawls up my spine. “And you know this how?” I ask quietly.

Elyistria’s expression grows distant, her gaze settling somewhere beyond the room, as though she’s reaching back into stories older than memory.

“It was once only a whispered theory among other gods from other realms entirely,” she says softly. “In the first ages, there were those arrogant enough to tamper with death itself—to cross beyond the veil and return, believing they could uncover what lay on the other side.”

Maelkar’s brow furrows. “And?”

“They came back changed,” Sariya says, her voice quieter now. “Not wounded. Not broken. But emptied.”

The word hangs cold in the air. Emptied. Is that what he is now?

“As though something essential had been hollowed out of them,” Elyistria continues. “Their emotions void of joy. Their souls… vacant. They could still speak, still move, still wield power—but whatever made them themselves had been stripped away.”

“Void of what they once were,” Sariya says. “That is where the name came from.”

I swallow hard. “So no one really knows what it is?”

“No,” Elyistria says. “Only that those who enter it are never meant to return unchanged. And Korithax…” her eyes darken with worry. “He was dead long enough for it to leave its mark. And strong enough for it to want to latch onto him.”

I swallow hard. “Is he dangerous?”

“Yes,” Elyistria says simply. “To the Six. To those who threaten Daisy. To anyone who harms what he loves.”

“And to himself,” Sariya adds. “He is unstable. His magic may lash out without warning.”

I scrub a hand over my face. “Daisy is in no state to handle that.”

And I know damn well she’s not. Velentha was right… now was the perfect time to bring Korithax back, because Daisy is losing her light all too quickly. It happens to the best of us during war, but not this much, this fast. She’s faced more than any person should in a lifetime, never mind in less than a year. But the Korithax that’s returned… it’s not the Korithax she fell in love with. And I fear that this could cause more harm than good.

“Not yet,” Elyistria agrees. “But she will be. She always rises.”

I let out a shaky breath, looking at the two goddesses standing before me. “So, what do we do now?” I whisper.

For the first time in my entire life, I just don’t know what to do. My brain feels like mush inside of my head. My heart feels like it’s been torn out, and there’s a gaping wound left behind, bleeding, rotting.

Sariya just smiles sadly. “We prepare for war.”

Maelkar cracks his knuckles. “Finally.”

Elyistria steps closer, her soft, light magic brushing my arm. “Aran, Velentha trusted you with the Særathi grimoire. You know what this means.”

My pulse stutters, but I keep my chin held high. “She wanted me to finish what she started.”