Page 65 of Summer of Sacrifice

“You did what?” Arielle shot forward, sliding the glass free of the clin d'œil, her hand hovering over the blood. “My goddess, you did.”

“Well, well, well.” Sorscha crossed her arms haughtily. “Our little alchemical prodigy.”

“Gaius,” Arielle’s tone was cautious, as if he was afraid she’d spook him. “What if you do have ma?—”

“Stop it, all of you,” Gaius snapped. “Take the droplet, Seleste.” He handed her a clean vial, carefully slipping the tiny droplet inside.

Seleste took it and laughed nervously. “Now for the hard part.”

“What are you going to do?” Sorscha’s eyes narrowed.

“Never you mind. Be prepared to take the quill from Winnie if she summons you.”

Sorscha’s head lilted to one side. “Why?” she asked slowly, suspiciously.

“It needs to change hands regularly, remember?”

AGATHA

She knew why they left the Void.

Why they’d spent so many lives apart, finding each other again and again.

That spell.

That fucking spell.

Entwined we three,

Lest the twine be broken

In darkness by day

The walk from the palace to their manor was different alone. Different now that she remembered things. Now that she knew where she was headed. Remembered so much more about who she was.

A blink, and a pudgy hand was in hers, a dimpled face smiling up at her as they walked. Belfry.

Another blink and she knelt to soothe a crying witchling, fallen from a tree. Hissa.

A breath, and an ice-blue dress fanned out in front of her, its wearer’s face tilted up to the moon. Talan.

Another breath and small, elegant hands unclasped before her to reveal a butterfly the colour of the night sky. Monarch.

Agatha pushed at the snippets of memories, then pulled them back, choking on her torrent of tears. Forging onward, she put one foot in front of the other. They had to know all they could, or they wouldn’t know how to make it all stop. Make it end.

Some things were different in this lifetime, that was certain. Grimm was able to be in Achlys, she was able to be in Achlys. Nyxia’s binding had been undone. Grimm had more of his power back. They were connecting their past lives—the past instances of throwing Athania from realm to realm.

Something they had ensured they would not do, until now—remember, recall, reconnect.

Agatha had not forgotten the prophecy that had dragged them into the fray in the Autumn. That together, she and Grimm would change the course of all things. She had not forgotten the words Chresedia had said to her in the Spring, in a shop of peculiarities on Eldritch Alley, dressed up in the face she’d worn to torture Agatha as a child—Sybil. The Sister Autumn before Agatha.

He did so well protecting you. He really did. But telling your parents that you would be born again into your lineage, that was his downfall. You see, I infiltrated your lineage long, long ago. And he never even knew.

She hadn’t forgotten what Grimm had said in the Meadow when he reminded her who she was.

You were reborn into our family line.

None of this had been an accident. It was an intricately woven spider web. She only needed to understand each silken strand. Then, they would have their answer. They would know how to make it all end.

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