Page 259 of The Mortal Trials

“How can Carina move between resting worlds? Abuela said Mictlan has nine levels and the journey through them is perilous,” I rasp.

“It is a gift from our gods to Abuela and me. As a reward for our sacrifices, our spirits and those of our children will not be subject to the usual expectations.” She stares toward the hallway and door she made for me.

I grit my teeth. “If the Pythia knows who she is, then Apollo also knows. Can you get to Abuela before they do?”

Her eyes, soil brown with striations of gold, cut to mine. “I can’t.” She takes the longest shard of obsidian, cuts the hem of her shirt, and binds the cloth around its end. “And neither can you.” On the red wall, she scratches the outline of a door and hands the blade to me. “Cillian is at the arena with his master. Find him when the trial is over and have him contact Morrigan. For you, the goddess will harbor her. Do not go to Morrigan on her behalf. You cannot ask for her help without breaking the rules.”

I absently nod, watching a wooden door form in the wall in the shape she’d outlined.

She snaps her fingers in front of my face. “Callalie, please do not approach Morrigan yourself. Ares will kill you for it.”

“What if he hurts her?” I croak.

Tears shimmer in her eyes. She bares her teeth. “Then he will be made to regret ever having touched her, the way he will soon regret what he did to my children.” She pushes me toward the made door. “Don’t lose yourself to your past or to your grief, Callalie, as difficult and heavy as they are. If you do, Ares will win. You must keep looking ahead. Don’t look back.” She sticks a small round tin in my hand. “Steep this tea for Koda as soon as you can. Have him drink every petal and leaf.”

Every petal? Is this Abuela’s tea? I push the tin into a small pocket on my outer thigh and thank her.

Before I go, she clasps my wrist. She takes two quetzal feathers from a leather pouch on her belt and places them in my hand. “One for Carina. Burn the other one if you ever need to reach me.”

She doesn’t let go when I start to pull away.

“You were born for this moment, Callalie, and those that come after. Don’t doubt yourself for even one of them.”

Her grip loosens.

I tuck the feathers into the same pocket, then leave her in the hidden room and hope that if she’s real, none of the other gods can retrace my steps to her.

For the first time since childhood, I don’t feel bitter hatred for my mother.

I walk through the doorway.

22

And I step into a dense forest webbed with pale mist draped heavily between ancient, mossy trees whose thick branches drape and weave together in some places. There are small clearings interspersed between the tangle of swooping limbs, but the forest is odd. Eerily quiet. The sound of every footstep is absorbed by the lush, green carpet. The air is cold and damp.

I turn in a circle. It smells like my father’s home, like Morrigan’s realm.

Where is everyone? Am I the first to arrive, or is the trial over and I’ve been left behind?

In the clouds, I swear I hear the gods’ distant chattering.

“Climb!” a harsh male voice whispers.

I follow the sound to a nearby tree and find a deep purple hue that’s out of place in it. Hazi crouches on a low branch. “Get off the ground!” he hisses. “Unless you want to die.”

I turn, looking near my feet for the threat. “What is it?”

Just then, a series of awful, guttural, animalistic sounds come from somewhere close. Whatever’s making them is hiding in the mist.

I hurry to the closest tree and try to climb, but the trunk is too broad and I’m too short. The tips of my toes and the pads on my fingers shred. My metal prosthesis strips the bark off, which doesn’t help in the least. I can’t do this.

“Come here!” Hazi waves me toward him. “Quickly!”

A loud, animalistic squeal erupts the moment I start jogging. I push into a run, pumping my elbows and praying I don’t fall.

I’m almost there.

“Jump!” he yells.