Page 44 of Each Their Own Devil

Aleja had metthe Third once before, when she had gifted him the sickle that now hung in the stables—glinting in the corner of her eye like a tear—just out of reach of the cage Merit had built. As soon as she stepped into the stables, a strange calm came over her, like a thick fog temporarily obscuring the mountains of fear that loomed in her mind.

He was, as she remembered, in the form of a Throne with black fur, his wings cramped into the small cage. Only a reptilian tail hung past the bars, flicking against the metal with impatient thuds. The tail stilled the moment Aleja entered. The Third’s eyes were hidden behind a blindfold, beneath which thin streams of blood dripped—red on black, the only color visible on his body.

“There you are,” the great Throne purred as Aleja stepped into the stable. The only evidence that this building had oncebeen used by the Messenger—or anyone else—were the stalls, far too large to house ordinary horses.

“We tried to warn you,” Aleja said, glancing behind her. The Messenger had not followed her into the stables, but her presence had been so large, so oppressive at her back, that the absence of it now felt just as heavy.

“Perhaps I was a fool not to listen,” the Third replied.

“Perhaps?” Aleja’s voice rose despite herself. What was the harm in taunting death when he was safely locked away?

“Yes, perhaps,” the Third repeated, his tail thumping against the bars. “The universe is a vast and unknowable place, even for me. The First is life, the Second is choice, and the Third is inevitable. The gaps between us are filled with chaos.”

“You need to help me,” Aleja said, reaching for the bars. She almost gasped at the smoothness of the metal against her palms. She had felt Merit’s craftsmanship before—in the little locked box that had held the Unholy Relic she’d cut from her own hand—but it was nothing compared to this. This was Merit at his most unholy: a cage strong enough to hold death itself.

“Drop your hands and step away,” the Third warned. “Imagine what it feels like to be trapped in it. I have always remained neutral in the conflict between the Astraelis and the Otherlanders, yet I find myself suddenly sympathetic to the Astraelis’s position. I should have ended Merit’s line centuries ago.”

Peeling her hands away from the bars was like setting down a bottle of wine when she was at that perfect point of drunkenness, blissfully unmindful of the hangover that would follow. “That Merit could make the cage isn’t the problem,” she said. “That the Astraelis forced him to is.”

“An argument made by many—both human and otherwise—Lady of Wrath. Is it a problem that humans can build nuclear bombs, even if they don’t intend to use them? What stops thosewho know how to end the world from doing so, other than the polite promise of mutual destruction?”

“I didn’t come here to talk philosophy. You said you had a message for me.”

“It’s a request. Or rather, advice,” the Third said, his tone softening, though his tail twitched again. “The Messenger will soon invite you to partake in a fig from the First Tree. It would be wise to accept her offer.”

Aleja did not understand whether the choked noise that come from her throat was meant to be a laugh or a sob. “Excuse me? The world is about to end, and you’d like me to eat a piece of fruit? That didn’t turn out so well for Eve.”

Something strange happened to the Third, then. His Throne body shimmered, and for a moment, Aleja was no longer staring at an enormous, winged lion, but a young woman identical to herself in shape and size—short, but with legs and shoulders that had grown muscled from her training. A curtain of dark reddish hair covered most of the Third’s face, but his eyes were concealed by a heavy black ribbon. Streams of blood slid across a pair of plump cheeks. Then, the illusion was gone and massive claws flexed as the Throne stretched.

“Are you trying to scare me?” Aleja whispered.

“No one should fear me, dear Lady of Wrath. There are many figs that grow on the First Tree. One, yes, will restore your memories, but another will reveal that the Avaddon is unstoppable. Eat that one.”

“Why?”

“Because it will bring you peace. The Avaddon comes, whether or not any of us want it to, and I will disappear the moment there is nothing left to die. Eat the fig and understand.”

“If you’re trying to get me to stop fighting the Avaddon, then you’re wasting your time.”

“I’m trying to be kind, as you have been to me. There is no need to fight. You can go gently.”

“So, the Avaddon is real?” Aleja choked out, the words as painful as trying to cough up a shard of glass. She had believed it before, but as Val had pointed out, it had been a matter of faith. A part of her had always hoped he was wrong, even if it meant she had ruined her reputation with the Dark Saints for nothing. The taste of vomit rose in her throat, but she swallowed it down.

“My sister stirs for the first time in many millennia. Beyond that, I know no more than you. The Messenger has had plenty of time to interrogate me. If you want to know more, eat the fig.”

“I’ll think about it,” Aleja said, desperately wishing that Nicolas was by her side. Even Orla would have been preferable to standing here alone, with Violet and the Messenger probably still bickering over the dining room table.

“Go on, then, Lady of Wrath. I have nothing else to say to you.”

“Wait,” she began. “If I freed you?—”

“You cannot. Only the one who designed and made my cage can unlock it.” The Third dropped to his stomach and licked one of his paws. As his claws flexed, they reminded Aleja of her abandoned sickle. “I must rest now.”

“Hold on?—”

But the Third was true to his word. Aleja could not see his eyes close through his blindfold, but the great lion’s head dropped heavily between his paws, and the tail that had been twitching against the bars finally stilled.

“Please,” Aleja whispered, unsure what she was even pleading for. She was alone in enemy territory with no true allies, save Garm. Her husband would surely defend her actions to the other Dark Saints, but to what end? She had betrayed them in the worst way possible, ensuring that each of them would lose soldiers, lose friends, lose lovers. And for what? Valhimself had admitted that he was no closer to learning how to stop the Avaddon—not without studying the Second.

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