Page 74 of Summer of Sacrifice

She needed to get out of Achlys. Out of The Void. Where would she go? How could she live a mortal life as a witch after the love she’d carried? Beating her hands against the stone floor she cried. Already, Thanasim was slipping from her memory.

They needed to grasp some of their memory. Or they wouldn’t be able to protect their daughters in the mortal realms.

Before her magic could slip away fully, she lay on her back, hand outstretched to the moon. A claw extended, a monster of light and dark, willing to do anything it took to protect those she loved.

“May we never forget the Sisters Solstice.”

The moment the words left her mouth, Asteria’s magic dipped low, no longer Primordial. Sniffling and weak, she clawed her way to her feet. The rain had stopped. Her mind felt addled. Empty and grasping. At what, she wasn’t sure.

A twig snapped and she whirled around.

“Belfry.”

Her lip wobbled, and Asteria launched herself forward to take her hands. The rain had begun again.

“I know how to end it, Mummy. I know how to end all of it.”

AGATHA, NOW

How many more times could she take her chest caving in? They were so close…

Grimm began muttering beside her on the floor of the gazebo, eyes unfocused and half-crazed. They were out of time.

“Grimm.” She knelt over him, putting her hand on his cheeks. “Reaper, we have to go.” She tugged him to sitting, mutters still streaming forth from him in a multitude of languages. He leaned against one of the iron pillars, rain beginning to drizzle.

She wasn’t fully certain if he’d seen what she had, or not. Most of it, surely. But not Belfry. Not what Belfry had said.

Oh, gods.

Agatha rushed to the edge of the gazebo and vomited into the dead leaves. Collapsing to the floor again, her head hung partially off the side, rain drizzling onto her. She focused on her breathing, her hand clutched around her mother’s amulet. The locket that broke apart for her and her Sisters and melded back together. The locket that held so much.

Finally, Agatha grounded herself enough to rise. Slowly, she coaxed Grimm up and to the back door of the palace, where Nyxia was waiting for them, pacing—just like Grimm did when he was agitated.

“We need to leave,” Agatha spat as Nyxia darted forward to help her with Grimm.

“Let him sleep first. The others will meet with us in the Meadow come goddess-rise.

A growl escaped Agatha’s lips. “He’s lost his fucking mind, Nyxia.”

“Then help him get it back,” Lady Death snapped in equal fury.

Although she wanted to throttle this goddess, she was right. Agatha set her jaw and turned to face Grimm, her voice calm as a moonlit lake as she said, “Reaper. Look at me.”

He stopped muttering, but his gaze was still far off.

“We’re going to go lie down and get you some rest, all right?”

He made no outward sign of registering her words, but he stumbled along beside her to their chambers.

Once safely tucked in bed, Agatha stared up at the mystical night sky that was their bedroom ceiling, her mind swirling as Grimm slept soundly next to her.

In some ways, when they’d last lay in this bed, she had briefly pictured them returning to Achlys forever. Seen Grimm with his returned, full power, taking the throne at whatever point in time Nyxia decided she no longer wished to rule Achlys and its reapers, wraiths, and Death Seers.

Now that she knew their purpose in leaving and at least most of the plan they’d enacted, putting one step in front of the other was all she could picture.

Grimm stirred next to her, a small groan issuing forth. Agatha started to ask if he was all right, but he sat up on one elbow, his back to her. Gently, he reached forward at nothing, chuckling sleepily “Hissa, sweetheart, go back to bed.”

Agatha’s stomach dropped to her toes. She wanted to leap up, lurch forward and grasp what he was looking at.

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