Page 69 of A Fate Everlasting

Her face was a mask, not in the metaphorical sense. It was perfect and porcelain white, featureless except for two slits where eyes should have been. Then, the third one stepped forward, stealing what little air remained in my lungs. He was not a Daemon, not like the others.

His wings, golden, enormous, the kind I had only ever seen in paintings, dragged behind him, tainted with streaks of black. This was no costume. And he, unlike the others, looked exhausted. Deep purple circles hollowed beneath his eyes like existance pained him.

I knew intuitively that he was a Fallen Angel. I felt the Thread hiss, returned, but I could not look away.More myth, than anything.That’s what Dante had said about Fallen Angels. But here one was, with the Archdaemons

I didn’t realize I’d stepped back until I felt the edge of the courtyard wall graze my spine. My body recognized what my mind refused to—this was not just myth. Fallen Angels were very real.

The final four Archdaemons emerged together, hoods drawn low over their faces as they drifted down the cloister. The air filled with the scent of iron and cold, a whisper of something not quite sulfur, not reasonably blood. Something that smelled like the edges of the universe.

Verrine stepped forward, her face a mask of absolute control.

“Honoured comrades, High Lords and Ladies of the High Council,” she greeted them, voice steady, unwavering. “Evermore welcomes you.”

The first figure spoke, though his voice was sound morethan words, like something ancient dragging its nails through the folds of time. “The Archangels have not come?” He asked.

A ripple of unease went through the students. Verrine smiled. “No, they have not. The ruling is yours to decide.”

“The Rift must continue,” the hooded figure declared. “Ether has fallen, and a debt must be paid. A debt of souls.”

This wasn’t a ceremony anymore. This was a reckoning. The Rift had been scheduled for a month away, until now. Someone had decided it was time to collect.

“Saints, this is bad,” Ruby whispered. “Negative ether means Elsewhere is owed bodies.”

“Unacceptable,” Godwin snapped, stepping forward, a hitch in his step. His face was pale, his hands fisted at his sides. A muscle twitched in his jaw, tension wound too tight beneath his skin. “The scales are not balancedbecause they’ve been broken. Someone has been altering the ether system!”

The Archdemon’s head snapped unnaturally in Godwin’s direction, voice booming. “There is still a debt to be paid. The Rift does not care for fairness. It cares for fate, and fate has chosen.”

A cold, smug smile tugged at Verrine’s lips. The Archangels were not coming. The High Council was only Archdaemons, and the Rift was happening.

Her voice cut through the stunned silence as she turned to the crowd of students. “Enoughof tonight.Return to your towers immediately, the Dawning Ball isover.”

The music wouldn’t start again. The laughter wouldn’t return. The golden warmth of the ballroom had turned cold, entirely hollow and drained of ether. Creatures of the darkest night had just entered Evermore, and we had just been dismissed like children, as though the night itself hadn’t just cracked wide open.

Verrine had won, and none of us yet understood what we’d lost. The light had bled out of Evermore, piece by piece. I winced against my wound, the tonic and stitches doing little in the way of pain. I needed the Lumen back.Now.Dorian said it was protecting me, and I had a horrible feeling the next blow might be final.

You can only bring someone back once.

I still needed the deck to right whatever wrong I’d caused. Really, I needed Dante. That became the vow that steadied my breath while the rest of the courtyard scattered. I wasn’t finished with him. Not yet.

33

“Icaution you to act appropriately.” Verrine’s nails drummed Godwin’s desk, eyes thinned to slits. Only a week ago, they taught us that Ascension was a gift. That the afterlives were in perfect balance, and our destinies guided by fate.

Now, the grainy photos bleeding across the stone walls told a different story. I stared at the metropolis carved from darkness, the bone towers, a sky the color of old blood. I remembered walking those streets, hope still clinging me. At the bottom of every image, bold golden letters gleamed:

Evermore is a choice. Choose power. Choose glory. Choose the Fall.

Ruby stiffened beside me, fingers curling white-knuckled around her slate. “What is this crap?” she hissed, barely restraining her fury. “Everything is on lockdown. I can’t even write to my parents.”

“She can’t get away with this,” I muttered, something curling in my stomach. “There has to be some law.”

“There is,” Ruby cut in, her grip on the slate tightening until her fingers trembled. “But clearly the only ones who would enforce it are the Archangels.” She turned to me then, eyes swollen like she’d been crying just before class. “And they are currently missing, remember?”

The Thread curled against my neck lightly. “Who says that’s not a lie, too?”

“You’re one to talk about lies,”I thought back.

“Try the Fool Card if you don’t believe me. It talks.”

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