Page 43 of Summer of Sacrifice

“I am not certain, but I have always believed it was Aureland, where you had that first life, Thanasim.”

“Aureland?” Agatha broke in, the name jarring something within her. “That feels familiar…”

Nyxia’s head bobbed. “I have no proof you went there, but I have always thought it would be the best place. The Elven people abide there, Keepers they are sometimes called in other realms. You had Athania’s goddess quill, and it would have been safest there. It is where I would have taken it if I did not bring it here.”

Grimm took up pacing, his hands in his pockets and wearing a line in the pebbles between the dark treeline and lush garden. “The goddess quill that penned the Grimoire. It is one and the same, yes?”

“It has to be. The only other one was destroyed in the War of the Gods long before Athania left The Void.”

“What happened after we left?” Agatha posed the question.

“All I know is that I did not hear from you, any of you, for a century. When I did, it was to collect your soul, Thanasim.”

He baulked. “In that time I gave up my godship?”

A single tear slid down Nyxia’s face and Grimm knelt in front of her at the same time Agatha instinctively put a hand on her back. “I took your soul straight to Hespa. I raged at Her, cried, demanded She tell me what happened. In Her way, She merely told me he is Ours first, foremost, and he has done what is best for all.”

She bent her head and wept. “That was it. I had to trust you, and Hespa.” She wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I brought you back here and held you here until you convinced me you had to go back. You would tell me nothing else.”

“Back?” Agatha prodded. “To be reborn?”

“Yes. Souls have the ability to decide if they remain in the Afterlife or if they would like to return to the land of the living. Usually, it does not happen so quickly aside from reapers, but Thanasim was no reaper at that time. He was merely a mortal, somehow.”

“How many times?” Grimm asked, his voice stifled.

Nyxia lifted her head, looking at her chosen son with grief-stricken eyes. “Fourteen.” She turned those eyes on Agatha. “Thirteen for you, Asteria.”

Agatha sucked in a sharp breath.

“I made you a reaper in twelve lives, Thanasim, and pleaded with Hespa to send you Thalia, your sister from your first life, in any existence She would allow it to be so.”

Grimm closed his eyes. “Arielle.”

Squeezing his hand, Nyxia smiled. “Thalia, Lorna, Astrid, Sage, Willa, Hazel, Sabrina, and Arielle.”

His breathing uneven, Grimm tipped his head to the moon and stood in silence for several moments.

Eventually, he said something to Nyxia and they continued speaking, but Agatha’s very soul was in a pirouette. When she closed her eyes, it was almost as if she could hear their daughters giggling, arguing, playing... A lump lodged itself firmly in her throat. She needed to grasp these fragments of memories. Immediately. She couldn’t take it any longer.

“You said you came to our home.” Her voice was almost drowned out by the gentle breeze, but they both immediately gave her their attention. “I thought we lived in the palace.” She could feel Grimm’s concern for her pulsing.

“You lived within the palace walls until Hissa was born. At that time, Thanasim had a manor built.” Nyxia rose gracefully, brushing elegant hands down her gown. “And it is the very place where I thought this journey of remembering should begin. Come.”

Within a few steps, they’d reached a break in the thick, dark foliage, revealing a wrought iron gate thrice the height of Grimm. In and of itself, it was a masterpiece of iron mysteries. But, beyond it, lay a manor that took Agatha’s breath away.

“Goddess above,” Grimm swore. Nyxia chuckled next to him and corrected that, in The Void, it’s goddess beside.

The gate opened under Agatha’s touch, revealing a stygian manor of spires, pointed arches, and rib vaults. Already, memories were dancing at the edge of Agatha’s mind. Grimm was worlds away, too many differing emotions swelling in their bond for her to decipher them.

“This is where I leave you,” Nyxia said softly. “The only aid I can give is this.” She pulled out a glass bauble from nowhere. Within it, swirls of grey fog wound ‘round and ‘round one another in a vicious dance. “These are your deaths.”

Agatha gasped, taking the bauble. Grimm, however, had not broken his gaze fixed on the manor.

“I wouldn’t set them free,” Nyxia warned, “lest you witness moments you would rather not recall. However, death is tangled up in life. Their presence may lend a helping hand in clarifying the lives you lived.”

Lady Death strode away, and Agatha took Grimm’s arm, pulling him back from wherever the sight of their manor had taken him.

“Ready, little witch?”

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