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I’m sorry.
And then, for the second time in my life … I died.
CHAPTER28
ZAIDE
It all happened so quickly.
One moment, my soul pair was alive and bravely throwing herself in front of Mary’s spell; the next, she and her witch were dying.
As Winnie dropped to the ground, blood gushing from her throat and gurgling in her mouth, Clawdia screamed, also feeling the pain, the death of her witch. It was going to be her death, too. Mary vanished.
“No. No. Little Cat, it’s going to be all right,” I tried to reassure her through my panic. She was gasping as she stared at Winnie. I was powerless, and like I had in so many other helpless situations, I prayed. “Hedri, Riseir, Charos, gods, please make this all right. Please. She is my soul pair.”
I continued my steady repetition of prayer with my eyes closed. A low moan made me open them to find that Clawdia had crawled to her witch and laid down next to her, intending to die with her, holding her. The sight was like a harpoon in the gut.
My heart cried out in denial, and I surged toward them, determined and scared but desperate not to lose her. Winnie was no longer gurgling. My soul pair was still as I placed my hands on her arm. She didn’t react.
I whimpered.
I screamed.
I cried.
When my sobbing had calmed to a steady stream of tears, I saw I was no longer where I once was.
Clawdia was gone. Tiny rocks did not assault my knees. My ears were no longer cold from the wind. My hands were not covered in the blood of my soul pair’s witch. I was not in the human realm any longer.
Instead, my hands touched a marble floor. Smooth and polished, it was something I hadn’t seen for a long time. It reminded me of home. Faint scents of incense hung in the air as I inhaled between gasping sobs.
She’s gone.
The life we would have had together flashed through my mind. I imagined meals together, birthday celebrations, a bonding ceremony with Charlie, Savida, and Daithi once he finally forgave us. We would travel the realms until we settled somewhere with our friends, and eventually, her stomach would grow round with a child. We would have another soul join our mismatched family.
And there would be so much love. So much love that we would be the envy of every relationship. Whatever power we gained in our joining would pale compared to how we loved.
But she is gone.
Tears continued to fall, and my heart continued to break. I was so lost in my grief that I couldn’t be scared or shocked at my arrival in a strange place.
“Please, pause your grief, broken one.” The voice was booming. Powerful. I shuddered at the sound of it.
My heart skipped a beat, and I gasped, my mind unable to understand how I was suddenly standing in front of the gods to whom I prayed.
I pushed away from them, my body sliding across the floor with a squeak, and panted, trying to take in the scene.
The marble floors were not the only impressive item in the large room. Gold decorated the walls, forming patterns which swirled, leading the eye to a particular destination—three large thrones on a marble platform. The seat cushions were all gold, and the outside of each chair had a unique design.
The one on the left was black, the edges of the chair jutting out like thorns and brambles. The middle chair was white with the frame decorated with the same swirling pattern that decorated the walls. The chair on the right was red and didn’t have any embellishments on its wood frame. Simple and beautiful.
I took in the sight of the gods. Charos, god of death and the one who first spoke, leered down over me. He was titanic in every sense of the word. His skin was a pale gold, but his eyes, hair, and scars were all as black as his throne. Dressed in the traditional black robe I had read in our scriptures and seen in the statues in the temples and gravesites, he was terrifying.
“You are too severe, brother,” spoke a figure next to him, this one soft-spoken with none of the sharp features that made Charos so scary. He had an amused smile and a face which appeared unblemished by stress or strain. His shorn hair hid the color, but his skin and eyes were a luminous brown. Not as dark as Savida’s, but darker than Winnie’s. His robe was red and also mirrored his throne in its simplicity. “Hello, young one. Cry no longer.”
“Hedri,” I gasped again, unable to comprehend that the god of love was smiling at me kindly. I’d forgotten to bow and threw myself into the motion, my hands slapping the marble as I pressed into the floor.
The final god spoke, drawing my attention, “You have prayed to us many times over the years, Zaide.” Riseir, god of life, was the largest of his fellow god-brothers. He towered over me in his golden robe, which matched his golden skin. His hair was like mine, long and white.
