Page 42 of Summer of Sacrifice

“That is my assumption,” Nyxia answered. “I am sorry that I cannot offer more information.” She turned sombre eyes on Grimm, two pools of violet night shrouded in mist. “It was not that I did not want to tell you of your past lives until now, it is that I could not. I was entirely truthful when I said my limited knowledge is by your design.”

She sighed, drained, and sat on an ornate iron bench, Grimm and Agatha dropping to sit on either side of her. “The tendril of night that spoke to you in the Liminal Place—the one that reintegrated back into you, that is—it is a shade of your power that was here with me. It bound me the same way you say you have bound Athania.”

Grimm ran a hand through his chaotic mess of hair. “I–I don’t even know how I did that. The shadow coil simply said to bind her—that I had sent it away for protection. When Athania walked through that door and I was on her fucking throne I just—” He shrugged, a bone-deep weariness in the set of his shoulders. “I don’t know. I felt I could do what it had said, so I just did it.”

Nyxia rested a gentle, elegant hand on his knee. “The night is yours, darling.”

“But I did this same thing to you?” He shifted toward her on the bench, revulsion plain on his face. “I bound you from speaking about my past lives?”

“And kept me from knowing almost anything about what happened with Athania. In fact, I have a sneaking suspicion you bound all of us in The Primordial.”

Grimm looked away, toward a bed of black violas. Agatha could feel his mind whirring, so she spoke instead, leaving him to his thoughts. “What makes you think he bound all of you?”

Nyxia patted Grimm’s knee once before returning her hands to her lap. “There are pieces of conversation and bits of memory that fall away when any of us are together. Things we can’t recall, or the words die on our tongue before they are uttered. It took a while to put it together, but I began to notice this only happened when one or both of you came up in the conversation.”

Grimm’s attention snapped back to them. “How did I unbind you?”

“I have not the slightest idea, but I think it best you figure that out. I know very little about what nastiness occurred between the two of you and Athania. All I do know is that she was dear to us all, but even more so to you. She chose to give up her status as Lady War and left The Void to marry a mortal general in the land of Orford.”

“Please, Nyxia” he pleaded. “Anything you know. Anything at all can help.”

“I know that you checked in on her often. You were concerned about her involvement with the war her Orfordian General was tangled up in. She was interfering and, as it was your duty to look after the darker dealings of mortals, you confronted her. Our reapers, handmaidens, and Death Seers were run ragged in those days. They hardly had time to stop and return to their mortal forms at all. One day, when Asteria was still carrying Belfry in her womb, you both went to speak with Athania. Soon after, Orford was invaded by a nearby land called Hawthrin, and Athania was taken captive on a ship.”

Grimm squinted his eyes shut, the telltale sign a new memory had lodged itself in his skull. “None of her captors on that ship survived,” he bit out through the pain behind his eyes.

“Correct. Athania killed them all. It was also the day her magic manifested.”

“Manifested?” Agatha pressed. “She’s not always had magic?”

“Not exactly. We all had mortal lives before we were chosen by Hespa to be what we are. Though you, Thanasim, were a warlock in that first life, and you, Asteria, a powerful witch, Athania was a simple girl. She had no power until Hespa offered her rebirth as Goddess of War.”

Nyxia turned to Agatha. “You, dear one, have always led and cared for others ferociously in equal measure. When Athania planned to leave The Void and renounce her place among The Primordial, you brokered for her to retain some measure of power, effectively creating a witch. I am uncertain of the details, though I suspect they are murky and significant.

“However, Athania hadn’t spent time harnessing the magic you gave her, and did not know how to wield it up until, it would appear, the day she slaughtered her captor and his crew. There was a young witch also taken captive with Athania, and she called out to you, Asteria. To her Lady Magic. And you came.” Nyxia’s voice trailed off and she gazed up into the trees devoid of light.

“What happened?” Agatha’s voice was reticent. How could it be that such a tale of epic proportions had anything to do with her? And she couldn’t even remember it.

“I do not know, darling. You returned to Achlys, shaken. Thanasim was blinded by rage. He called for us to convene in the Meadow and, though I do not have proof, I believe it was then that he bound every last one of us. The two of you met with us collectively, which is a strangely foggy memory in my mind, and then one at a time.”

“Why would I do that?” Grimm scrubbed a hand along his jaw. “That’s madness. Wouldn’t we be stronger together? Why did I fear Athania so much?”

“All I have been able to gather, despite your binding of us, is that you threw her into another realm for the first time that day. Several years passed, just a blink of time to us, really. But you left in a rush one night, leaving the girls with me. I knew Athania had been causing mayhem again, we all did, but only the two of you knew where she was. You returned with her goddess quill, the one she used to meddle with wars and their outcomes when she was Lady War. After that day, you were both sullen and reserved, keeping to yourselves far too much. I–I did not know how bad it was until it was too late.”

“Too late?” Agatha asked gently.

Another wistful smile crawled like creeping vines across Nyxia’s face. “Your girls were remarkable. They were not reborn of Hespa, but they carried the blood of the gods and were far more than witches. Because their births coincided with the shifts of Seasons, light and dark, their mother and father, they were affectionately coined the Sisters Solstice. They were brilliant, calculated, chaotic, kind, and brave. The absolute perfect melding of the two of you.”

Grimm stood and moved to Agatha’s side as she fought back tears. Tears of a loss she couldn’t recall and desperately needed to, yet was terrified to confront.

“While the girls were staying with me, Monarch showed me her newest exposé of animancy.”

Grimm started. “Animancy? Our daughter had the power to raise the dead?”

“Yes. Your girls were, of course, partly you, and I had made you a reaper in that first life you lived. A very powerful one, I might add, considering you had warlock magic as well. These sorts of gifts and powers transcend time and mortality.

“While you were away, presumably dealing with Athania, Monarch showed me a frog she had brought back from the grave. But the little amphibian had no soul. Many believe creatures do not have souls as mortals do, but, here in Achlys, we know first-hand how untrue that is. I spent several days searching for the perfect amphibian soul to gift to Monarch for her friend.” Nyxia’s face fell. “When I arrived at your home to give it to her, all of you were gone.”

“Where?” Grimm hurried to ask, his urgency as thick as Agatha’s own in their bond.

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