Page 100 of A Haven of Brimstone and Darkness

“Not all killers are monsters,” she says. “Not all monsters are killers.”

“What will happen to you in your old world?” I ask.

She shrugs. “We’ll rebuild, I suppose. I think it’s time for us to stop destroying and start repairing.”

“You’ll never come back here again.” It’s not a question, but she treats it as one. My head pounds with a deep ache. My arms begin to tremble with the effort it takes to hold them up.

“No.”

Fresh pain lances through my chest. I close my eyes as much to block out the sight of her as to check Anatol and beyond for any more of them. All of the lights are gone now. Every single Atlantean has been sucked through—save for the ones remaining here.

I lift my lids as Caedmon’s light re-appears next to me with a familiar book in his hand. I blow out a breath. “Are you taking it with you?” I ask.

To my surprise, the God of Prophecy shakes his head and sets the volume that was born of his flesh on the stone table. “It is yours, child.”

“Come, Caedmon.” Ariadne steps around the table and holds her hand out. “We’re the last ones.”

I look back and realize she’s right, Gygaea is gone from Ruen and Theos’ grip. Tryphone’s screams have ceased. Both Danai and Makeda are gone as well. All of the Gods have returned to their world, banished forever more from ours.

Caedmon hesitates before taking my mother’s hand. “Do you forgive me, Ari?” I’ve never heard him so frightened and my heart seizes for him.

I see it now, in the way he looks at her, in our past interactions, in remembering the woman in the stained glass of his office—Caedmon always loved her. He still loves her. But much like my own personality, Ariadne glares at him over her shoulder.

“No, I don’t,” she snaps. “But it’s time for us to leave my daughter to reclaim this world. We shouldn’t tarry here any longer.”

“You could stay,” Caedmon insists. “You never got the time you wanted with her.”

“No,” Ariadne replies. “We need to leave this world and let our children heal it from the scars we created. It’s time.”

With a sigh, Caedmon glances at the three Darkhavens, all of whom stand several paces in front of us now, their heads tilted back staring up as the fissure slowly shrinks. The edges draw closer together.

“They love you too,” I say, offering him the last kindness that I can before I send them off to their own fates—whatever it may be. As if sensing our discussion, Kalix, Ruen, and Theos glance back at us. “In their own way.” I smile.

Caedmon takes Ariadne’s hand and looks one last time over us. “Be well, Kiera Nezerac, daughter of Ariadne.”

I nod and lock my elbows holding the opening even as it stretches, trying to snap shut. Caedmon looks to the three Darkhavens and bows slightly. “Be well … my sons.”

Then he’s gone.

They both are. Ariadne and Caedmon burst into silver strings and are yanked up through the opening just before it closes, sending the rest of the world into a darkness that is only interrupted by the thin light of the moon hanging over all of us.

Chapter 49

Kiera

Aspray of sea salt air slaps me in the face as Ruen, Kalix, Theos, and I step onto the slated wooden boards of the Ortus Island docks. The dusky sun rises over the churning surface of the waves that lap at the sunken pillars beneath our feet, keeping us aloft.

A perpetual confusion permeates the crowd of Mortal Gods, recently awoken from their slumber, as they follow us and gather upon the grounds at our backs. No one can quite believe that the Gods are gone, but the truth cannot be denied. The sky as the sun pierces the clouds in the distance is brighter than it has been before—as if a shroud has been lifted away from us all. Ruen and Theos flank me and then to Ruen’s left, Kalix.

Ships as big as the ones that brought us here what feels like a lifetime ago now bob along the ocean’s waves, drawing nearer and nearer. This time, though, there are no macabre half-dead sea women carved into the front of their hulls. That, more than anything else, feels like a solidly good sign and I would pray that it is … except … well, there’s no one to pray to anymore.

Turning back, I glance over my shoulder and spy several familiar faces beyond. My lips part in shock. It’s not Maeryn and Niall that I’m looking at but the faces of Darius and Enid andeven Malachi. My sight has splintered into two and I suspect it’s my father’s ability—now my own—that causes the lapse in vision.

Nestled amongst the Mortal God children of both Riviere and Perditia, are white glimmers of other God children from the past. Those who have been lost, their faces waxy and lean as if they’ve lost all their luster and life because their hearts no longer beat, are stationed along with the survivors of the last scar the Gods have left upon Anatol.

Us.We are the scars upon this land. The last remnants of what they did to these people. We are the present and someday, we will be the past. I am determined, though, that we will leave this place better than it was when we arrived. After all, that’s what generations are supposed to do, isn’t it?

Shouts draw my attention away from the ghosts of those lost before we ever knew what was happening to us back to the ships as they pull up alongside the docks. Sailors race around above, the sounds of running footsteps and commands being called telling me that they’re hurrying to settle the ship into place before it rocks forward and slams into the glassy stone crown that is the Ortus Academy’s corpse.

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