Page 35 of Summer of Sacrifice

“Uh oh.”

“Don’t uh oh me, just hush and hold still.”

Looking up at him as he towered over her, Agatha couldn’t help but smile. He was right. This would be a difficult journey through time for them, but she was anxious to see this man in all the lives they’d shared. Suddenly, she felt a little tug. “Ow!” Like a pinch or a hair being pulled out.

Grimm said nothing, but she watched in astonishment as a glowing, golden tendril of something floated between them. It was night and day, light and dark, magic and death incarnate—woven up like the single, original thread holding a tapestry together.

“Is that…” she whispered.

“Our bond,” he confirmed.

Wordlessly, Grimm plucked at the bond as a harpist would pluck at his strings. It was a delicate yet determined motion that resulted in shards of shimmering magic floating off, coalescing into something. It wasn’t until he was almost done that Agatha realised it was a crown. Gently, he placed the gleaming thing atop her head—a reaper crowning his witch. This time, with a solid diadem as opposed to the one of smoke and shadow he’d used to show her who she was—Asteria, Lady Magic, the Goddess of Witches.

“Two crowns,” Grimm mused as she solidified, no longer a phantom. “Two kingdoms.”

But Agatha wasn’t listening. The moment she became flesh and blood within The Void-realm of Achlys, flashes of memories began to assault her until she doubled over, clutching at her temples.

“Agatha!” Grimm shifted out of his reaper form and crouched in front of her. “What is it? Can you hear me?”

“Yes, I can godsdamned hear you, reaper!” She groaned, rolling over onto her side on the shiny floor that reflected the night sky ceiling. Or was it also the sky? It felt like a dark cloud. Oh gods, the effect was even more dizzying. The torrents of intense memories finally slowed down. She groaned and sat up, a hand to her forehead. “What in Hades did you do to me in this room?”

He looked affronted. “Me? What just happened to you? What was that?”

“Evidently, that was the memory infusion of every salacious thing you have ever done to me in this room.”

Grimm’s face slid from concern to shock to amusement in the span of a blink, and he barked a laugh. “Well, we did supposedly spend millennia in this room together.”

“Remind me that we must recreate a few of those scenarios, hm?” She gestured sloppily to the balcony, still woozy. “In particular, one to do with the balcony bannister.”

A lascivious smile plastered itself across Grimm’s face as he helped her up. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

A knock sounded at the door, and Grimm steadied Agatha before striding to open it.

They were met with Lady Death bustling in, midnight skirts in hand and the warmest of smiles adorning her beautiful face.

“Nyxia,” Grimm greeted her, planting a kiss on her hand.

“My darlings. Both of you, here in Achlys.” Her eyes were filling with tears, and it struck Agatha as odd. She’d never considered the gods and goddesses might have the same span of emotions as mortals. Though it made sense if she and Thanasim had loved and had children.

“Finally,” Lady Death went on, “The Void feels right again. You’re home.”

“Not for very long, I’m afraid. We’re only here to remember more and return.”

“Of course,” Nyxia conceded. “Shall we have some tea?” She glanced at a large hourglass hanging from the ceiling. “Or perhaps a meal?”

Grimm looked to Agatha, silently leaving it up to her. “If it’s all the same to you, Lady Death?—”

“Nyxia, please. We are not strangers, as you will soon recall.”

“Right. And if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to get on with that. This is all a bit strange for me.” She looked around the opulent room again, familiar and foreign all at once.

“Say no more.” Nyxia rushed forward and wove her arm through Agatha’s. “I know just the place to start. Come.”

SELESTE

The scent hit her first—lotus, jasmine, and oud wafting through the breezy palace corridors.

Amira hit her second.

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