Page 152 of Threaded

Zadione froze, her silver gaze still leveled at Mariah, and simply nodded once.

She offered no other explanation. But Mariah neededmore.

“But … how? Why? Whyme? And why are you here, now? What ishappening?” The questions flowed from Mariah’s mouth like a rushing river bursting through a broken dam.

The Goddess’s expression melted into something that spoke of compassion…and sorrow. “I am sorry, Mariah. But there is not enough time right now to answer your questions. If you survive this war, then I promise you, all your questions shall be answered. And, Mariah,” Zadione’s tone shifted, her stare turning hard and burning, the ancient power of death she embodied blazing in her eyes. “Youmustsurvive this war.”

Cold dread and confusion swirled through Mariah, a whirlpool threatening to pull her down into the depths of the void around her. “What war? There’s no war in Onita … is there?”

At her question, the temperature of the void plummeted, any warmth from the silver light around them winking out. The youthful wildness that had permeated through Zadione vanished, and the figure before her shifted into the ancient, grotesque embodiment of death that made her so feared. The bones on her gown grew and melted into her skin, her hair fading from silver starlight to the color of bleached bones. Her eyes sunk back into her skull, and her fingers lengthened into talons, claws that could scrape out a soul from a body and leave behind only a lifeless husk.

Even with the magic of that very being in her soul, Mariah felt herself shrink away.

No human, no matter how far they thought they’d fallen, could comfortably look upon the face of death and not feel fear.

Then the Goddess of Death spoke, her once-brilliant white teeth now cracked and pointed, her voice like the final wheeze of breath leaving the lungs of a dying man.

“There has always been but one war, and it threatens more than just Onita. The One Who Fell, the Scourge of all worlds, has awoken. And hewillcome for you.” Death pinned Mariah with a stare, peeling back all her layers and walls and shriveling her from within.

“I have warned you, all your life, that love is a weakness. You are a threat to everyone who serves him, the only one who can stop him. He wants yougone. And if you do not forgo all weaknesses, he will get what he wants. Now—wake up.”

CHAPTER64

Mariah’s consciousness slammed back into her body as she shot from her dream, panic drenching her skin in a cold sweat. Her chest heaved as she fought to catch her breath. She sat up, pulling her knees up to her chest and dropping her face between them, her hands pushing the sweat-damp strands of her hair back from her face.

After several moments, when she was confident her heart wouldn’t burst from her chest, she finally pushed herself from her bed. With still-trembling hands, she grabbed a discarded robe from the floor and wrapped it tightly around her body. She strode into the living room, to the balcony door, unlatching the lock and pushing open the hinges, the cold air of the winter night filtering in as she pulled in deep breaths and stared at the sky.

The night was clear, the stars above brilliant as they twinkled in the vastness of the inky black. The waning twin moons were still high in the sky, casting their silver and gold light upon the world below. Just near the horizon, she could see the faint violet glow beginning to creep its way into the void of the night sky.

The starlight hour. The hour just before dawn, when those who danced in the night beneath the glow of the moons enjoyed one final moment of joy before the rise of the sun. A time when magic was at its most unpredictable, most unstable.

A thrill stole through Mariah at the sight, chasing away the lingering heaviness of her dream. She remembered what—or, rather,whowaited for her right now in that western courtyard, an area where the trees were cut back so the moons above could be enjoyed in full.

A perfect place.

Mariah moved away from the window and back into her bedroom, quickly dressing herself in warm, fleece-lined breeches and a soft sweater to ward off the chill of the winter night. She pulled on her boots and shrugged on a thick wool cloak before walking past her bed once more, heading towards the doors to the living space. The dragon-winged dagger taunted her from where it sat on her nightstand, still sheathed in its new garter of fine red leather. She shook her head once and left it there, stepping quickly into the living room of her suite.

She would have Andrian with her tonight. There would be no need to carry that dagger. Not here, in the safety of her home, even with the threats she’d faced before. She could hardly remember that night with the Uroboros, not with her mind filled with love and burning tanzanite.

Those threats had passed, and she would no longer live in fear.

She strode quickly through her suites and towards the double doors leading to the hallway beyond. Right before her hand touched the gold-plated handle, she hesitated, her dream suddenly rushing back to the front of her thoughts. The Goddess’s voice pounded in her head, as if it were more than just a mere memory.

“Love is a weakness. Wake up.”

Mariah stood still for seven heartbeats, warring with herself over the dream, and whether that’s all it was—justa dream. Ultimately, she steeled herself against the waves of unease, shoving it down deep inside and turning the key, locking it away.

This was Andrian. Her final Armature. Her consort. Yes, she loved him; that was no longer a secret. But, if her dream was real, this couldn’t be what Zadione meant. She needed his bond, his strength, if she were to weather whatever this coming war might bring.

Maybe Zadione’s warning about a conflict was tied to whatever brewed in the Kizar Islands. That would make the most sense. She would begin her investigations into it tomorrow.

With that, Mariah steeled her resolve and twisted the handle, the door swinging open on those silent hinges, closing it behind her with a softclick. She hurried off into the dark, quiet hallway, ignoring the whispers chasing her into the shadows.

* * *

Mariah stepped into the moonlit courtyard and spotted Andrian immediately.

His back was to her, but he was gilded in silver-gold moonlight, his fine black clothing outlined in the dimness and his raven black hair glinting in the soft luminescence. A prince of darkness, reveling in the last hours of the night, waiting for his queen to join him after far too long. He stared at the far wall, the alcoves within veiled in thick shadows, and stood utterly still except for the soft breeze rustling his perpetually tousled hair.

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