Page 34 of Summer of Sacrifice

Heaviness shrouded him as much as the smog. “Little witch, this will not be an easy endeavour.”

“I know.”

“Some of these memories in my head… They’re unbearable in their sweetness. That is why I haven’t told you of them. I could never do them justice by explanation, but I can assure you that the moment they fade, there is a sorrow that lingers.” Shoving his fingers through his wild hair, he sighed. “I’m not sure it will ever go away. Other memories are painful for the truth they hold. I–”

“Grimm.” Agatha halted him. “I feel what you feel. Though I can’t see the memories through you, I have some semblance of an idea of what I’m walking into. I know there is an intimacy with Chresedia—Athania—far past the eight years I spent with her as Sybil.” An involuntary shiver raked down her spine at the abusive memories. “I’ve at least deduced that we started all of this.”

He attempted a snort, but it fell flat. “Listen to you, sounding like Seleste.” Offering her a weak smile, Grimm clasped her hand and led her further into the darkness. “I do really enjoy talking with your Sister Summer. Her mind is something not of this world, I would swear it.”

“She’s always been like that, even as a child.”

“I would have loved to see that. I’m curious how her Order from Talan fits into all of this. Hades,” he grunted, “I’m curious how Talan fits into all of this.”

Thick dread unfurled in Agatha’s gut. “At the shop of Louis the Deranged in Eldritch…” Her voice trailed off, and they stopped. “Chresedia said she infiltrated our lineage long ago. Do you think she meant Talan?”

No fewer than four very uniquely colourful curses spewed from Grimm’s mouth. “The thought has crossed my mind.”

“She took Sybil’s body, after all. Sorscha has it in her mind that our Mother manipulated the Grimoire, but I feel in my bones all of this was Chresedia.”

“After the memories I’ve seen, I’m inclined to agree.” His face betrayed all of the twisted, warring emotions she could already feel within the bond. “There is one thing I need you to know before we go through the Veil to Achlys.”

Agatha nodded, steeling her nerves. Would he reveal something about her? About their children?

“There was more than just an intimacy with Athania. She was your dearest friend. More akin to a sister.”

A lump formed in Agatha’s throat, but she nodded several times, blinking tears away. Somehow, she’d suspected it wasn’t just an intimate knowledge of who Athania was, but it was still difficult to process. To process that this woman, this Goddess of War, who had wrecked her life multiple existences over, had once been called a friend. A sister.

Wordlessly, Grimm squeezed her hand and led them forward toward the soft edges of light gleaming from the portal ahead.

Orrick approached—the gruff, disrespectful reaper she’d encountered during her last trek through the Netherrelam. “To Achlys, Prince of Bone?” he asked after bowing low.

Grimm gave a curt nod. “I’ll send us through the Veil, though, Orrick.”

Dejected, the reaper gave another bow and darted off into the shadows. Once they were alone again in the smog, save for the glowing soul orbs surrounding Grimm, he bent down to whisper in her ear. “The most odious reaper of them all, that one.”

She had to admit that had been her first impression of him as well, and it did cause a smile to tug at her lips—his intention, she assumed. “You can get us through the Veil, hm?”

Mocking offence, Grimm scoffed, then blew a breath past his lips until they sputtered. “We’ll see, now won’t we?”

At the very least, he’d known where the Veil was and easily led them there. Letting his mortal flesh fall away to stand in his reaper form, it occurred to Agatha that he no longer had to say his true name in order to shift.

Lifting one skeletal hand to the shimmering portal, Grimm said nothing. His power was so unlike that of witchcraft… No, witches didn’t have to vocalise spells as mages did, but most elected to do so. The ceremony of it all was comforting and a power all its own. But Grimm exuded power once he’d learned to let some of it free. She didn’t for a moment think he’d unleashed all of it, but it was a start. The fact that a portion of it could cause thunderous storms was startling and thrilling, though she didn’t know why it surprised her, considering he was a god.

Or he used to be. They used to be.

It was a peculiar and wholly unthrillling fact. She was no goddess, not anymore. Her magic was no stronger than her Sisters’ was. Was it? Arielle’s assessment came back to her in a rush. Agatha and Grimm had left their place in The Primordial Void for some reason long, long ago. The question that was driving her mad was why? Why leave when Lady Death had said it was Grimm who had thrown Athania out of realm after realm? Why give up their status and power?

It was infuriating to know that millennia of memories were out of her reach. But that was why they had come to Achlys in the first place: to put some missing pieces in place.

Grimm’s hand disappeared through the Veil, and he turned to her displaying as much of a smirk as a skull can manage. She followed him through the portal, her jaw going slack the moment she made it through. They stood in an ebony marvel of a room. Most would have gone wide-eyed over the gargantuan bed of ornately carved onyx. Or, perhaps, the glittering chandelier and velvety night-sky ceiling. But, no, Agatha was immediately captivated by the balcony encircling the room, for it held aloft a wonder of bookshelves, surrounding them with an almost endless supply of beautiful books.

“Welcome back to Achlys, little witch,” Grimm whispered next to her ear.

Agatha spun in a small circle, taking it all in. When she stopped, Grimm made to wrap his skeletal arm around her waist, but he went straight through her, cursing as she looked down at her non-corporeal body. “Ah yes, I’m the ghoul in Achlys,” she mused. “Remember?”

“Nonsense. This is your home, too.”

She watched as he regarded her, mind spinning behind his skull. The moment he landed on an idea, she felt it in the bond before he opened his jaw. “Hold still.”

---