Page 13 of No Greater Sorrow

Ash filled her mouth, leaving a bitter taste.

And then, the pain was gone. Garm licked her hands, but she didn’t recoil. Aleja opened her eyes, unsurprised to see a skeleton in front of her, yet taking a relieved breath all the same. The shard rested on a heap of finger bones, as if the corpse had held it tenderly as its body fell apart.

“Are you okay?” Garm asked as he crawled into Aleja’s lap.

“Yes. I… we need to get the hell out of here. Come on.”

Her legs shook as she reached for the shard, glad for the gloves after all. Aside from a single ragged edge, where it’d been broken off from a larger whole, the glass was intact. “I’m guessing we’ll need to find the other pieces,” Aleja said, tucking it into her backpack.

She felt weak, reeling, but the need to leave this place and the skeletal corpse was great enough to propel her across the bridge. It hurt to swallow, but worse was the taste in her mouth. Bile and bone dust. Burning flesh and old death.

This path was more apparent, and Garm trotted in front of her, sniffing the air. As they moved uphill, the glittering bay soon disappeared. Aleja tried to think of anything aside from the corpse that had spoken in her voice. She thought of Bonnie’s cookies—more chocolate chips than dough. Violet humming punk songs in her too-pretty voice. Nicolas making sketches that he never let anyone but Aleja see.

“Garm,” she said softly. “The Second claimed that hellhounds are created from the souls of those who can’t fulfill their bargains with the Knowing One. Is that true?”

The dog shook his head, too-large ears slapping against his cheeks. “I made my bargain with a Knowing One before Nicolas’s time. I lit the black candle because… Hm. There was something about a farm. Perhaps I wanted it, or I already had it and didn’t want to lose it. She granted me my wish, but when the time came to collect, I couldn’t give her what I’d offered even if I wanted to.”

“You really can’t remember?”

“No, although I don’t think she killed me. It was some other magic that did it.” The words made Aleja think of the snake tattoo spreading across Nicolas’s chest, but she kept her mouth shut. Garm didn’t need to know about that yet. “And then, I was in the Hiding Place, but I was like a ghost. I couldn’t speak to anyone or touch anything. That lasted for a long while until Nicolas made me a body.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, not quite knowing what it was she was apologizing for.

“Oh, don’t be,” he said as his tail wagged again. “Everything before I became a hellhound feels like a dream. Hey! That looks like the palace.”

Aleja recognized the valley and the building growing at its center like a nascent cathedral. A distant thud vibrated through her bones, low and deep, as if it was the pulse of a great heart tucked beneath the earth.

“Where is everyone?” Garm asked as they descended into the grounds.

In answer, a flash of light came from the foothills of the Second’s mountains, briefly illuminating the gardens, and spiraling across the sky in a burst of red and orange. Fireworks.

“I don’t know. Let’s keep going. I want to get this over with.”

Aleja had walked this path before, but couldn’t recall it branching off in so many directions. Another firework burst overhead, reflecting in Garm’s eyes as he turned to her for an indication of what to do next.

“The palace,” she said, knowing that was where they were meant to head. She’d already seen her first home. Now it was time to see the second. “Come on.”

Aside from the paintings, the halls were empty. Some, she recognized, though their varnish was glossy and fresh. Her Persephone was missing, but she nodded hello to the centaur and his hunting party, and the bathing nymphs luring a knight into their lake. Despite the palace halls always shifting on a whim, Aleja usually ended up where she intended, yet she could tell right away that this would not be the case today.

Luckily for her, she’d thought to bring a hellhound.

“Anything, Garm?”

“It seems strange, but…”

“What is it?”

“I smell you in the distance.”

“Lead me to it.”

As Aleja followed him, she heard weeping. Fire grew inside of her, but she kept it from reaching her hands. If this test was to be the same as the last, she wasn’t sure if she’d have the strength to feel like she was burning alive again.

You’ve done it to others. Now, you understand the power you wield. It’ll be even stronger once you’re a Dark Saint, said her voice.

The crying grew louder. Aleja guessed what she would see when she turned the last corner and entered the room where the woman wept, but it was a shock all the same. This woman did not look like a corpse. Her reddish-black hair was tied in elaborate braids that secured a horned crown to her head. Red ribbons looping around the crown matched the color of the simple tunic dress she wore over black leggings.

She snapped to attention as Aleja entered. The war had taken a toll on her past self. Khol around her eyes ran in lines down her guant cheeks. She did not seem to notice that Aleja looked exactly like her, nor that a plume of fire escaped Aleja’s fingers at the sight of her doppelganger.

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