Page 155 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

When the glow subsides, there are two figures standing before me.

Closest to me, is a feminine figure with rich brown skin and coppery hair that hangs in ringlets framing her face. Her eyes seem bottomless—only pools of warmth and light.

Beside her, is a masculine one. Whereas the female’s eyes are endless light, the male’s are endless shadows. He wears a long, black cloak that seems as if it’s made from darkness itself. It moves like sand, the ebony grains shifting over themselves. His hood hangs down, draping his shoulders, shrouding inky black hair and a pale, gray-toned complexion beneath it.

Instantly, I know who they are. Their names linger on my tongue.

“Theelia,” I say to the female. Then, I shift my gaze to the male. “Nemos.”

The Goddess of Fate. And the God of Death.

I should be angry. After all, it was Theelia who blessed us. Theelia who marked Cryssa for death.

But there is no fury in my heart.

“Because fate willed it,” Theelia says. Her voice is smooth and airy. As if her words are spun from the very light shining inside her.

“What?” I cock my head, confused.

“You asked us why it had to be her.” Theelia’s calm demeanor does not shift. “And the answer is because fate willed it.”

I furrow my brow. I want to curse, to demand why fate had to pick her, of all the people in the kingdom. Hell, of all the people in the realm. But I don’t.

“Why appear before me?” I ask, dropping my gaze. My time alone with Cryssa is dwindling. My time to grieve. To stay here, with her, before I say my final farewell.

Theelia looks to Nemos, as if for permission. The god dips his head.

“There is a way to save her,” Theelia begins slowly, eyes downcast. “Only you can return her to this world.”

“But tread carefully,” Nemos warns, a knowing edge to his voice. “Doing so will bind your lives. If one of you should fall, so will the other.”

“Tell me how,” I say, without hesitation. There is nothing I wouldn’t do, nothing I wouldn’t give, to see Cryssa’s eyes open one more time. To hear my name on her lips. To feel her heart beating beneath my palm.

Theelia dips her head and looks to Nemos.

“There is still time to pull her back into this world, before her soul reaches my domain,” Nemos tells me. “Using your mate bond, you can reach her.”

“How?” I ask. Despair gives my tone a hard edge. “The bond is gone.” The cold emptiness that’s taken its place is a harsh reminder that the once unwavering connection between Cryssa and I is no longer there.

“No,” Theelia cuts in, her expression open. “It is not gone. Not yet.”

Furrowing my brow, I can only cock my head.

“You cannot feel the bond because your mate is no longer of this world,” Nemos begins. Those dark eyes never once flicker or show any hint of emotion. Neither does his voice. “However, if you were to follow her into the next realm, you would be able to access it.”

“I have to die?” My mind struggles to make sense of this. “How am I to save my mate if I, too, am dead?”

“You do not have to die,” Nemos corrects me. “Merely, your soul must be separate from your body. That, I can assist you with.”

I press my lips into a fine line.

When I don’t speak, the God of Death continues.

“I can temporarily withdraw your soul from your body. But you will not have much time, for there is only so long your physical form will last without your soul.”

If I don’t return to my body before it’s too late, I will die. And so will Cryssa, for a second time.

“Why tell me any of this?” I ask, suspicions rising. “What could the gods have to gain?”

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