Wild ​Reverence

by Rebecca Ross

“Matilda?” my mother repeated, surprised. “Why?” “It means mighty in battle.”

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.

“Your daughter will be a messenger, carrying words and tidings and proclamations from one realm to the next.”

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.

Because of this constant threat, my mother’s closest allies became my own. Bade, god of war. Phelyra, goddess of revelry and coin. And Alva, goddess of dreams and nightmares.

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?

This is the beginning of the end, I thought. If heartless gods can be made soft by such love, we are all doomed.

“Because she is yours, as you are hers,” Bade replied quietly. “And she is precious to me.”

We were doomed, she and I. One day, I would perish, and she would live on, endless as the stars. But if we were doomed, then let us fully embrace it.