Page 52 of Between Soul and Vessel
I opened my mouth to say I had not agreed to any of this, but when I glanced from Harper to Ryker to Lyra and saw the plea burning behind their eyes—a plea to help get their friend back—I caved. “Yes, of course, I will,” I grumbled then told the rest of them, “We leave in half an hour.”
“Great,” Harper said, giving Lyra a squeeze. “By the way, how are we getting to this . . . Mother Realm?”
“Is there a portal or something?” Ryker tacked on.
Turning to Zahra, I said, “I’ll leave you to explain that one.” I dragged my gaze over the rest of their faces. “And then we’ll see if you all are so keen on tagging along.”
My umbra swam around me, and I shadow walked out of the room.
Von
“Are you sure this is the only way?” Soren whined as all eleven of us—Folkoln, Ryker, Harper, Lyra, Soren, Kaleb, Fallon, the Three Spinners, and I—approached the giant. She was lying on her stomach, her head propped on her hands, her huge feet swinging back and forth, a massive fucking smile on her face.
“It’s the best we got, fingerless,” Folkoln stated from behind him, his hands in his pockets. He looked at ease, while Soren—as well as some of the others—looked like they might shit themselves. I wouldn’t be surprised if Soren already had.
The giant licked her lips as she purred with delight, “What. A. Feast.”
“I’m out,” Soren squeaked, and he turned back around.
Folkoln crossed his arms over his chest as he peered down at Soren, blocking him from going back. He raisedone brow, and that was all the convincing Soren needed to continue walking forward with us.
“Who’s first?” the giant asked as we fell into somewhat of a side-by-side line.
“Wait,” Ezra said as she walked in front of us. She dipped her arthritic fingers into her bulging pockets and pulled out one small glass vial, half the size of my pinky. She raised it up for us to see. Inside it? A bubbling blue liquid. “Before you go, you must drink this. It will give you consciousness once you reach the other side and will remove the veil from your eyes.”
“Are you sure this will work?” Ryker asked suspiciously, one eyebrow shooting upwards.
Ezra’s curved shoulders performed a half-hearted shrug. “Not entirely.”
Kaleb groaned.
“Reassuring, as always,” Harper sighed, her hand reaching up to rub her temples, trying to ease the headache of Ezra.
“Have some faith, dear child,” Ezra implored. “Catch.” She tossed the vial in Harper’s direction. It flew a bit short, so Harper leapt forward, her long arm reaching out to catch it before it smashed on the ground. She cradled the vial in her hands as both she and Lyra looked at it.
“It will work,” the Goddess of Destiny said, moving to Ezra’s side. Her gray-blue eyes, born from storm clouds and sea, swept over us all. Beyond those eyes, a powerful immortal lurked beneath, but externally, she looked nothing of the sort. Her shoulders were curved, her torso wilting likea dying flower. Her tunic was moth-eaten, her skirt a mosaic of mismatched patches. The hem dragged behind her as if it had been stepped on and torn. And then there was her face, weathered and hard, like leather left to cure in the sun.
Folkoln asked, “Did you see something?”
“I did,” the Goddess of Fate answered as she stepped to Ezra’s other side. Although the three sisters bore a great deal of resemblance to one another, Destiny and Fate could pass as identical twins. If Fate didn’t stain her gray hair with streaks of red and purple, it would be hard to tell the two apart.
“The night before last, a vision came to me. Nine souls drifting among tumultuous waters under time-forged icicles.” She reached above her head, looking up. “Icicles that glow like brilliant, twinkling stars. There, written in the sky, a message—six find their feet, two need time, one is broken.”
“But there are eight of us going,” Fallon said, her arms crossed over her chest, her hip cocked to the side.
“Not for long,” Destiny countered with a grin, her eyes shifting behind us.
I turned to look over my shoulder. A muscle ticked in my jaw when I saw who was walking toward us—
“Saphira,” I growled underneath my breath as my vision darkened, rage simmering in my bloodless veins.
There was a brief time in my long, long life where I’d tried to repair our sibling relationship, but the moment I learned Saphira had plotted to end my mate, that she was the one who’d given that fucking disgrace of a king the Crownof Thorns, any wish to fix the damage that she had done ended immediately. And then when I found out she’d forced Sage into making an impossible deal—trading the Blade of Moram for our child’s feathers—I knew right then and there that I would end her miserable life. My hand flew to my side as I summoned my sword from my umbra—Death Weaver.
Folkoln stepped in front of me, his hand pressing against my chest. “Von, wait.”
“I suggest you remove your fucking hand from me before I cut it off,” I warned, my tone menacing.
Every set of eyes were stuck on us. The ground groaned, trembling beneath my feet as the giant moved into a sitting position.
