Page 236 of When Sisters Collide
Alena’s thoughts spiralled, each one darker than the last. The words echoed over and over in her mind, impossible to silence.
End Katell. Kill her sister or be killed.
The weight of it pressed down on her until she couldn’t breathe.
Kill her sister, her only family… the one who had protected her, fed her through the harshest winters, soothed her fevers. The one who had laughed with her and shared whispered secrets beneath the stars.
The ache in Alena’s chest swelled into a crushing void. Her limbs turned to lead.
She was sinking fast, drowning in endless despair…
But then a hand closed around her elbow, and warmth flooded her body, pushing back the emptiness and threading a fragile spark of hope through her trembling frame.
Light pierced the dark.
The frogs resumed their croaking chorus, and the breeze stirred the reeds, carrying the scent of damp earth and the sharp tang of the marsh. Alena’s breath came easier, and when the White Mare lifted her upright, her legs held firm.
The goddess studied her, as if weighing her readiness—or seeing through the cracks to the resolve beneath. “Listen carefully, child. Have Volcos meet the Rasennans near the standing stones by the Rodanos River. Those stones hold ancient magic—magic even we gods cannot interfere with. Your Gifts will fade, and your sister will be powerless.”
“Will that be enough to stop her?” Alena asked.
“Perhaps,” the White Mare replied, stepping closer, her tone solemn, almost mournful. “If anyone can help her regain her senses, it is you. And if you cannot… you must be ready for the worst.”
She extended her hand, and a soft violet light unfurled in her palm, curling like mist. Slowly, the glow shaped itself into something familiar—her mother’s golden torc, the very one Alena had last tucked away in her satchel, the one that refused to answer to her.
“Your sister may be the one destined to walk in your mother’s shoes, but this… it belongs to Andrasta’s bloodline.”
Alena’s breath hitched. She reached for the shimmering necklace and cradled it. “I tried wearing it, hoping it would answer to me,” she admitted, “but there was no magic.”
The White Mare’s smile was small, perceptive. “I was waiting to meet Andrasta’s daughters in the flesh before I allowed one of you to claim it. Your mother would have wanted one of her daughters to have it.”
Alena glanced up. “What does it do?”
“It will heal you,” the goddess replied. “And when the time comes, it will heal one of your loved ones.” For a fleeting moment, something crossed her face—sorrow, deep and ancient, or perhaps regret—but it quickly vanished, replaced by a playful glint. “Now,” she said, voice lighter, “would you also like to take Volcos’ Gift?”
Alena blinked at the sudden shift. She’d touched Volcos’ Mark, and as the Omega, she could break the pact he’d made with the goddess and claim his Gift for herself, though she had no idea what it was.
But no matter what Volcos had said to her, he was their ally, and she refused to take his Gift. “No, let him keep it.”
“Good,” the goddess replied, her tone taking on a playful lilt. “Because I Gifted twelve of my horses to him—though he passed them on to his most trusted men, and now they’ve grown attached to those riders. His second Gift, however, comes from Taranis, and it’s far more powerful. That one you should claim if the chance arises.”
Alena froze.
Taranis?
Had she heard that right? Had the White Mare just revealed one of the Western gods’ true names?
“Taranis?” she echoed.
The goddess’ purple eyes twinkled with mischief. “Oh, how careless of me.” Her smile widened. “Did I let that slip? Of course, I meant theThunder.”
In the distance, the sky rumbled ominously, as if in answer.
The White Mare’s gaze flicked to the darkening horizon, her lips pursing. “That’s what you get for using my horses as target practice, you monster,” she growled under her breath. Then she turned back to Alena, her grin returning like nothing hadhappened. “Feel free to spread the word about his name. As you can see, he’s got plenty of magic to spare.”
Alena gave a slow nod, her mind spinning from the weight of the revelation.
“Right, time’s running out,” the goddess said. “Don’t forget what I told you about the standing stones… and the torc.”
