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Hecate’s pups and hounds prick their ears up, ultimately under her command, and the Goddess blows a kiss, which crackles a trail of sparkles upon Ivy. Like a beacon they must follow. The little girl stuffs some of the Chex in her mouth before rounding the corner.
That’s when I notice Phantasos tearing up a little, and I touch his arm. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, yes…” he waves it off, his voice cracking as he blots his eyes with a handkerchief.
I just now notice his suit. It might be my favorite. A deep midnight blue fabric that looks like it’s made from living silk, rippling like water. Tiny, luminescent creatures, reminiscent of bioluminescent plankton, move within the fabric, leaving glowing trails. They constantly change, forming enchanting patterns. So mesmerizing.
Hecate bids us to the table. At first, we share the Trials with Phantasos, keeping some of the details a little more vague. We dine on phantasmal canapés. Delicate bites of smoked salmon, enchanted to hover above the plate, paired with herbs and lemon essence. The moonlit oysters are even more of a delicacy, served on a bed of crushed ice with a glowing sauce that tastes rich and smoky like the dark side of the moon.
Nyxion says nothing. Morpheus cracks jokes, as usual, he and Phantasos playing off one another.
Sometimes, Morpheus’s eyes stray to mine where he does that dark smolder that seduces like liquid shadows, and my insides melt. Hecate’s hungering gaze all but combusts me.
But Nyxion…his silence unnerves me. Especially when he hasn’t touched his food. He simply clutches his chalice with his skeletal hand and swirls the liquid, never drinking.
After what he did, calling me and talking me away from the Abyss edge, does he think I’m still angry at him? Or rather Eclipse.
No, Zenya,she tells me in the solitude of our mind.I was never truly angry. Anger is too hot and volatile. Calculated and icy feminine wrath is my territory.
That makes sense.
Are you still?—
No. He has atoned in more ways than one. But I wouldn’t mind seeing a little more groveling,she says with a notifiable lilt in her tone, playful.
Because kneeling before me, ripping out his heart, and offering it still pumping wasn’t enough groveling for you?
A pause.
Touche.
“So,”—I finally bite the bullet—“Why can’t I stay?”
All four of them turn to me, lowering their drinks. Phantasos tugs at his collar, unsettled by the subject. I also notice his eyes welling up with more emotion than usual.
Morpheus tightens his wings and opens his palm on the table. “Zenya, if it were within our power, we would keep you with us forever. But human souls are not…designed for the realms of the Gods—especially not the Realms of Dreams. With no anchor or immortal fabric, the only options that will happen are these: you will fade, you will become a lost dream forever to wander with no purpose, or forces like the reavers will be drawn to your humanity and forever hunt you.”
I screw my brows low, my heart burning, my thoughts unable to accept the truth I know is ingrained within me. The dark side of my tattoos move, roused by the subject. “What can I do? What is within your power or our power?”
Hecate regards me with pity, pity I don’t want. I want solutions. “You must return your soul to your comatose body.”
Nyxion turns away while Morpheus extends his shadows toward me in tender whorls. Some tension from unspoken words hangs in the air. Suspicion prowls on my nerves.
“What will happen?”
“You will forget…” Phantasos’s voice cracks from emotion.
Anger flares in my blood. My ink writhes. “Everything?”
“We will be your deja vu,” explains Hecate, her voice turning ancient and reverent. “We will be the invisible magic you sense tickling your spine. The whisper in the trees. The phantoms in your dreams. Your coincidental moments. And the figure in the mirror, but when you turn…nothing is there.”
Raging tears blister my vision. “Does that mean I won’t remember Beastie? Or all the others?”
She looks down, and Phantasos shifts in his seat, giving me all the confirmation I need. Skulls snap their teeth. Roses shed their petals. My snakes rear up and hiss.
“I’m certain Beastie will manifest for you again, Zenya,” Hecate tries to quell me, her presence calm and authoritative. “There is no stopping a force like yours, and she will always be your shield. It simply won’t be under these circumstances.”
Fuck. That.
