Page 95 of Summer of Sacrifice

Nyxia cleared her throat, her chin high, regal. “I believe you are quite aware of my part in all this, but for the sake of educating the others, I made Thanasim a reaper in almost every life.” She looked at Grimm lovingly. “And did my best to ensure Thalia was in his lives as well.”

Lord Nature sat just to Nyxia’s left. “Magnus?” Agatha prompted him. She felt in her bones he had specifically given her something she could not have survived without.

Magnus’ throat bobbed as he offered her a smile. “Mabon,” he said quietly, tears immediately welling in her eyes. “That day in the woods, when you were a witchling. Sister Autumn,” he sang.

“And that woman tried to take me.” Agatha recalled that day too well.

Magnus nodded grimly. “Mabon kept her at bay until your mother arrived.”

Agatha sucked in a breath. “My goddess, that woman was Chresedia—Athania.”

She’d changed—nay, thieved—bodies so many times, yet been the same fallen goddess, while Agatha and Grimm had died and been reborn time and again. All to keep themselves from remembering. To keep her from them. To keep magic safe.

Another nod came from Magnus, and Valeria—Lady Wisdom—spoke up. “I interfered that day as well. I sent Theodore Griswald to Lorelai and Ambrose.”

Grimm nearly choked. “The Gôthi? But he works for Chres—Athania.”

“No,” Valeria said. “Not really. I sent him to counsel your parents. Monarch had called to me. Hespa gave her his name to write in the Grimoire, for Sister Summer.”

Sister Summer. Agatha thought of Seleste, of all her Sisters and their place in this madness.

“Hissa called to me.” This came from Lord Persuasion, Cullen. “With the idea to inspire Lorelai’s journals. She had the goddess quill. You had taken it to her, Thanasim, along with a locket. By then, I had deduced there was something significant about this era—this life. This battle had been waged countless times. But you were all waiting for something.” He looked at Agatha. “The Dark Star.”

Grimm’s attention snapped to Agatha.

“What are my mother’s journals?” She leaned forward. “They—they’re like pieces of my Sisters and me.”

Cullen murmured his agreement. “Yes. And they have the power to summon the First Sisters.”

Agatha and Grimm froze in unison. “What?” he breathed, wariness and hope colliding through him in their bond. “Summon our daughters?”

“Yes. Their spirits. Though, the summoning is minimal, and it can only be performed once. Hissa put it into place with me after…” He licked his lips and sighed. “After Athania got to Talan. After the quill had to leave the Sisters and be kept hidden again.”

“That is where I came in,” Isadora interjected, Lady Fertility in all her regality. “The spell over your lineage and the Sisters Solstice was a good one, but Athania wanted the goddess quill. When she discovered the Sisters had it, she happened to be a rotted old hag and in need of a body.”

Agatha’s hands began to shake, flashes of Talan as a babe, laughing, learning to wield her magic… Grimm squeezed her hand, trying to mask his own grief while silently comforting hers.

“I feared the lineage would falter,” Isadora continued. “But since the next Sisters would not be born of direct descendants, I merely had to ensure that, at the proper time, the correct people would meet and the next Sisters would be born.”

“Fantine?” Grimm said. His voice was calm, but Agatha could feel his need to move on from speaking of Talan. It was too painful to address now.

The ever-glowing Lady Day smiled, a ray of perfect sunshine. “The Deux Siècles Eclipse. Talan came to me with that portion of your spell, to ensure it would hold.”

“Percival?” This time from Agatha. The fragments were all slipping into place…

“Ah,” Lord Peace shifted in his chair. “I sent Lorelai to create Araignée when I, too, saw the Fourth Order would birth the Dark Star.”

Grimm inhaled next to Agatha, his breathing uneven. It was so much to take in.

“I believe”—Jasper stood, a wicked grin crossing his dark, beautiful face as he spread his arms wide—“that leaves me.”

Nyxia snorted at Lord Mischief from Grimm’s other side. “And what did you do, Jasper?”

“Why, I made Athania’s life a living Hades, of course. A little of this here, a little of that, there. Once, I even gave her a wart on her nose while she was sleeping, and dumped a potion into her mash that gave her uncontrollable gas for a fortnight.”

They all chuckled, some of the tension dispelling.

“This must be where I come in,” Smithwick spoke up from his place on the table in front of Nyxia. “Why did you call me here, Jasper?”

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