Page 71 of Summer of Sacrifice

Grimm twitched and it stopped her cold.

“Grimm.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, the muscles in his jaw working furiously. Convulsions began wracking his body and Agatha sat straighter, jostling his shoulder.

“Grimm. Stay with me.”

The tremors ceased at the sound of her voice, but a sadness draped over him, his gaze suddenly realms, times, bodies away.

“What do you see?” she dared to ask, still gripping his shoulder.

“Talan,” he whispered, but not to Agatha. “Darling, why do you look so sad?”

Agatha watched, her heart clawing its way up into her throat, as he rose from the floor and crossed over to an empty lounge chair, kneeling before it.

Agatha focused on the filling of her lungs, willing herself to see what he was seeing. But she must not have been present for the moment playing before his eyes.

“All will be well,” he told their invisible eldest daughter.

The look of pride and pain on his face sent tears forming afresh in Agatha’s eyes.

“We will find a way to fix this.” Grimm tucked what seemed like an invisible strand of hair behind Talan’s ear and rose, walking toward the door.

“Grimm.” Agatha hurried to stand, pulling at his sleeve. “Grimm look at me.”

Confusion passed over his features, and he peered around the atrium as if listening for something, a distant sound.

“Grimm,” she said again, gritting her teeth and stepping in front of him. Putting her hands on either side of his face, the stubble scratching at her palms, she commanded, “Thanasim, look at me.”

He gazed right through her for a moment, before his head cocked to one side, his brows deeply furrowed. “Asteria? What’s happened?”

“Nothing has happened. Just keep your eyes on me.”

Slowly, his brow smoothed out, clarity returning to his eyes, familiarity with it. “Agatha?”

“Yes,” she almost sobbed. “Just look at me. Don’t go away again, all right?”

He searched her face, a tangle of torment in their bond. “I can’t tell what’s real.” His voice shuddered with the words.

“Because it was all real.” She rose on her tiptoes to brush a kiss against his lips. “Perhaps we need some fresh air.” Taking his hand, she led him outside to an opulent, towering gazebo of intricate black flora and mullioned glass.

But as soon as her boots hit the top step, they both collapsed.

ASTERIA, THEN

Rain drummed on the glass roof of the gazebo, sliding in rivulets, and dripping down the columns of black iron flora. Goddess, but their daughters had grown into such astounding witches.

“You mustn’t begin doubting, Mother.” Monarch’s gentle voice fluttered into her thoughts.

“She’s right,” Hissa came forward and wound her arm through Asteria’s. Thanasim took her other hand and brushed an errant hair from their daughter’s face.

Talan’s eyes were filled to the brim with tears. “It’s what is best.” A droplet escaped her control, and Monarch folded her in an embrace.

Belfry stood quietly to the side of the florid gazebo, her hands clasped. Their last born. The one exactly in between her parents in personality, with magic to match.

Asteria squeezed Hissa’s and Thanasim’s hands, dropping them in order to address everyone. To go over the plan one last time before they enacted it.

“Talan, we will entrust this to you.” She conjured the goddess quill and handed it to their eldest daughter. “The four of you will use it to pen exactly what Hespa breathes into you. Is that clear?”

---