Page 6 of No Greater Sorrow

COME TO THE EDGE OF MY POOL, said the Second.ASK FOR YOUR WEAPON.

Aleja and Violet looked at one another and moved forward. Aside from the ripple on the water’s surface, all was still.

Are you really going to ask for a sword you have no idea how to use? said her inner voice.

I don’t know what else I’ll need, she snapped back.

Think. A weapon can be anything and anything can be a weapon. You can’t fight and you’d get lost on your own block if you didn’t have GPS on your phone. What could help you?

I don’t know! It’s not like I can ask for a fucking hellhound!

Why can’t you?

Aleja sucked in a breath. Perhaps the Second had failed to define the word ‘weapon’ intentionally. “I…” she began, preparing herself for the request to be shot down. “I want a hellhound.”

The Second laughed in Aleja’s head—a sound that made her feel unstable, like the floor was shaking beneath her. “The Knowing Ones have used them as weapons,” she went on, hoping this was true enough to convince him.

HELLHOUNDS CANNOT BE SUMMONED FROM NOTHING, ALEJA. THEY ARE CREATED WHEN IT IS IMPOSSIBLE FOR A HUMAN TO FULFILL THEIR BARGAIN TO THE KNOWING ONE.

She’d thought the hellhounds were fixtures of the Hiding Place, just like the Dark Saints and the ever-shifting palace. Another wave of grief for Garm passed through her; it was hard to breathe, as if the weight of her sadness was pinching her lungs shut. But before she could speak, the Second continued.GARM’S DEATH IS FRESH AND HELLHOUNDS CANNOT PASS THROUGH THE THIRD’S REALM. HE LINGERS, WAITING TO EITHER DISSOLVE OR ROAM THE MOUNTAINS LIKE A GHOST.

“Garm?” she asked softly.

HE’LL BE FULLY REBORN—YOUNGER AND MORE INEXPERIENCED NOW. ARE YOU CERTAIN THIS IS THE WEAPON YOU WANT, ALEJA?

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “As my weapon, I choose Garm the hellhound.”

AND YOU, VIOLET?

“I want a vial of water from your well,” Violet said.

Aleja’s eyes widened. She wanted to argue with Violet—the Astraelis’s well water had brought them nothing but harm, and the Second was not just some dying Remnant, begging for the lives of witches to sustain itself.

Don’t be mad you didn’t think of it first, laughed her inner voice.

VERY WELL, VIOLET TIMMONS. USE IT SPARINGLY.

A slab of rock at the room’s far end rumbled and rolled aside as if pushed by invisible hands. The corridor beyond was narrow and pitch-black.

YOUR WEAPONS WILL BE WAITING IN THE NEXT CHAMBER. YOUR FIRST TRIAL BEGINS NOW.

* * *

It had been nearlysix centuries since Nicolas had seen his armies gathered for more than a training exercise.

Even calling themhisarmies felt fraught. He’d ascended to the title of Knowing One mere decades before the last conflict—hardly enough time for a farm boy turned Dark Saint to learn the intricacies of warfare with the Astraelis. If not for Aleja, Orla, and—he was loathe to admit—Roland’s instincts, it was possible the Hiding Place would have been wiped out under Nicolas’s watch.

“Orders?” Taddeas asked, his voice barely audible over the jostle of soldiers practicing formations. Theirs was a volunteer army; human, fey, and Otherlanders, drawn from the villages that dotted the Hiding Place—refugees from whatever worlds had shunned, rejected, or tried to destroy them in other ways. And as if sensing some coming violence, creatures had begun crawling down from the mountains to join them in the lowlands. A two-legged dragon with black wings circled overhead, its shadow gliding over the camp at regular intervals.

“Hold until the scouts return with information,” Nicolas said, trying to focus. Fuck, his chest hurt.

“If the Astraelis wanted to attack, now would be the time. I don’t like this silence. Why give us the chance to gather our armies and secure our wards? They’re planning something,”

“Agreed. Can you spare any soldiers to reinforce the fortifications? If the Astraelis attempt to breach our borders, we need to make sure it’ll cost them.”

“Stop with the infuriatingly calm act, Nic,” Taddeas said. “There are fewer soldiers than there should be. People here remember the brutality of the last war. You can’t blame some of them for not wanting to subject themselves to that sort of horror again.”

“In that case, I hope you don’t plan on fighting fairly.”

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