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For anyone who has ever had to let go of someone they love
“A name shapes a divine as much as the stars do,”
“Matilda?” my mother repeated, surprised. “Why?” “It means mighty in battle.”
I vowed to be childless unless they can be made in love. And I would rather be feared than ever be loved.”
War only makes love flame brighter, defiant. It seems to bloom from the bloodshed you leave behind, unfurling from the most unlikely places. From the broken seams of the world. From the graves and the anguish and the fear you inspire.”
But the truth is … there has been no divine born to the Underlings or the Skywards since.
It might seem odd to take a newborn to visit Death, but the truth is that we measure life by the end of it, or the lack thereof for immortals.
“I cannot speak it, Orphia. Upon our parting, he made me swear an oath. That should I utter his name, even far below where the sun has never touched and he has never trod, he would hear it, and he would find me.” “To reunite with you in love, or to kill you?” Zenia was silent. “Once, he loved me. I was a secret that he kept, but our dalliance did not last, and our parting was not gentle.”
“Then confirm to me that he is a Skyward.” “He is.”
There is unspoken power when it comes to hair, as odd as that might seem. To cut a lock from a sleeping god is a powerful move; my mother could have demanded anything of my father in exchange for those strands, because it would have shamed him to know she had been awake while he had slept. That he had been vulnerable in her presence. But rather than making a demand of him, Zenia had used it for my horoscope. To skirt around the name she would not utter.
“Your daughter will be a messenger, carrying words and tidings and proclamations from one realm to the next.”
“There is safety in movement, if you truly fear for Matilda’s well-being,” Orphia countered. “And what you meant to say is this: you do not want your daughter to know her father’s kin, far above.”
Death was moonlight on a sword, an ocean eddy at high tide. Ephemeral and vicious and cold, like frost over iron.
Movement was destined to be my armor. I was not fully an Underling, and nor was I a full-blooded Skyward. I was both, and this had never happened before. I was Matilda alone. Matilda of nowhere and no kin. I would become the herald of the gods, much to my mother’s chagrin. And the goddess of death had certainly seen something out of place within my stars.
You hold on to her. But who could hold on to the wind? And—better yet—who would be so foolish as to trust—to love—such a wild being?
“What sort of goddess is made when Fate and Death come together in unison after centuries of enmity and strife?” I paused, far too anxious to play a guessing game. “I do not know, Matriarch,” I said. “Tell me.” Rowena smiled, revealing sharp, crooked teeth. “We create a goddess of peace.”
This is the beginning of the end, I thought. If heartless gods can be made soft by such love, we are all doomed.
The once powerful and fearsome god of war has marred himself by loving a mortal woman, and now he has thrown the stars into chaos by making her one of us.
“A nine-point constellation is good, but magic rooted in peace is weak, submissive. I think we should worry more as to how Bade will try to use this to his advantage.”
“Forgive me,” I said, my voice hoarse with fear and thirst. “I … let me remove the stone. I did not know—” “No, child. That is where it belongs: on your belt. I would not have plucked out my eye the night you were born and tossed it to the under realm for your mother to harvest had I not desired it.”
“You are strong,” she said. “You are brave. And you will return to us.”
Love amongst immortals is a weakness.
“I am an Underling, but I am also a Skyward. I cannot claim one over the other. And I am the worst thing that has ever happened to the gods.”
“Then let me accompany you,” I said. “Let me be at your side. Not only as a goddess, but as your wife.”
I replied, glancing at her. “But if you want your lord to survive this night, you will do exactly as I say.”
“If the god of spring and iron and rivers lost you”—Vincent’s voice was a rumble, close to my ear—“then he is more foolish than I thought possible.”
“I was never his to lose.”
The enemy of that long-ago night has returned to you. This time, I will answer.” I opened my mouth and set the parchment on my tongue. Vincent watched, drawing a sharp breath. His inked words melted between my teeth. The parchment stained with his blood turned into milk, sweetened as if by honey, and I swallowed it whole.
“I tease you, lord. Your words are sweet, golden. Milky.”
And I do not understand why you must eat the prayers. Of all things.” “Because they are now a part of me as they were once a part of you,”
I pray that my days will be long at your side. Let me fill and satisfy every longing in your soul. May your hand be in mine, by sun and by night. Let our breaths twine and our blood become one, until our bones return to dust. Even then, may I find your soul still sworn to mine.
Matilda of Underling Matilda of Skyward
Twelve points, she had written beneath them, counting the stars above as well as the ones below. And then, soul-bearer.
“If it takes you,” I said, “then let it also take me. Don’t leave me behind like this, Red.”
“Although now I understand why you would be here, waging war. I understand why you would bring down a tower. If it was for love.”
“You call yourself my ally, but you have only come out of duty. You came to my aid today because of a salt vow you regret giving.”
“It was good of you to come, and I thank you for it,” I whispered. “But I release you from your salt vow.”
“You do not mean that,” he said, a hitch in his voice. “Why would I say something I do not mean? I am clearheaded and make no mistake. You have fulfilled that vow of old and you should go freely now, no longer bound to me and the peril that awaits me.”
“Five years,” I was bold enough to barter. “And after those five years are done, I can continue to come and go through the gate of the mists whenever I desire.”
“How did you know?” I asked. “How did you see the other half of my stars before I did? Before they burned in the sky?” “I was never supposed to see such things,” Adria confessed. “But nor was I ever supposed to be immortal, was I? When I was crowned by Death and Fate, the very bones of divinity shifted, ever so slightly. I gained a portion of both matriarchs’ powers. I can foil death in my own way—not as great as your own, of course—and I can also catch a glimpse of what is to come, what is destined, as if I gaze into a murky pond. Orphia and Rowena do not realize it. Not yet, but soon they
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I made no protest when she drew two points on my collarbone with her sweetened blood. Two points that she connected, as if they were stars, gleaming in gold. Only two other divines could take their stars and give them to another—Orphia and Rowena. My breath caught when I realized who Adria truly was. What she had become amongst us. Death and Fate had not just created a goddess of peace. They had made another matriarch. If the under realm belonged to Orphia and the Skyward heavens to Rowena, then Adria was the matriarch of the mortal kingdom. There had always been three realms in our world; we
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“Keep these hidden until you need them.” I swallowed. “When will I need them?” Adria only smiled and said, “You will know when.”
“It is about time you stirred. I was beginning to think that father of yours had lashed your fault line.”
“I would lie quiet if I were you. Those scales cut deep. It will take a while for your body to heal itself.”
“Why were the other stars darkened?” “Orphia could answer this better than I, but from what I know, those stars were granted to you from your father’s line, and his name was left unclaimed when your horoscope was read. So those stars continued to sleep, hiding their fire until you finally performed the magic on your own.”
“He may be irreverent toward all of us, save for you. I think he desires to worship you.” “I do not want him to feel like he must worship me. I do not want to change who he is, or what he believes.” Rowena smiled. “Oh child, you are still quite young, aren’t you? He longs to worship you, but not in the way you think.”
Dear Matilda, You’ve been gone for three days, and I have never been so conscious of time before now. I count the hours, listening for the bells to mark them. I collect each moment that you’ve been away, and I feel them gather in my bones like winter. I long for you. I do not know when this happened, when the current rose and when I let it take me, willingly, but there came a moment when I looked at you and could not breathe. There was a moment when I watched you depart, and I wanted to fall to my knees. I know that you and I come from different realms, and that you will be prone to wander, as
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“Good,” Rowena said. “Then go and be with the one you love.”
“I did not save you to make you indebted to me,” she murmured, bringing the black braid around my wrist, binding it as a bracelet. “And I will not ask you what this magic is you now wield. Let it remain your secret until you are ready to speak it aloud. But one day, I will have need of you and your power. One day, I will call for you, and I would ask that you remember this night and how I spared you from death.” “I will remember,” I said. “And I will come when you call for me.” I could be in the wastes, the mists, and still I would answer her.
“Because she is yours, as you are hers,” Bade replied quietly. “And she is precious to me.”
