We follow Belen deeper into the palace. My brother is talking to him in a low voice, catching him up on the duplicity of Inanji and how she managed to curse him into forgetting all about Mara.

Belen in turn tells Thelios about the Recondites and how my brother, Nisjahn, came to War and began to sway the Recondites to his side of the war. "Then, you killed me. I have no idea what happened after that, obviously."

"Nateos told us that Lier has turned traitor and the Recondites are following him," Thelios says grimly.

They both turn to look at me. I shrug, "he always seemed loyal to Mara to me."

Thelios tosses me a glare at my nonchalance, but Belen seems more wary. "What, exactly, are you now?" he asks me suspiciously.

I heave a sigh. "I am the Captain of the Basru, Belen. I am sworn by oath, on my soul, to protect and serve the Princess of the Underworld."

"Lier was also sworn as a Basru, true?" he continues.

"I love Mara and will never betray her again," I say quietly. "I learned that lesson."

"She loves Thelios," Belen says, his eyes challenging me.

I smirk, stepping up to him, chest to chest. Thelios backs off, knowing that I need to handle this. "Have you ever sacrificed for someone else, Belen? You're a Recondite, sworn to protect all the gods' interests, but here you are, in the palace of Irkalla, in the home of the god of Death. Where did you come from before you joined their ranks? What sort of life did you gain by becoming a Recondite? Your mortal title means as little as mine did."

I step closer so that he has to stiffen his spine uncomfortably, his head tilted just slightly up because I'm a bit taller. "I am the Captain of the Basru. Forged in the Pits of the Underworld, cast into a sharpened blade to serve my Princess and only my Princess."

"Thelios is a Captain of the Recondites-"

"A Captain," I interrupt him. "As he has said, he is one of many. But now he is one of two. Two Princes of this place. Because, Mara is our Fated. Ours. And no one else's."

"Very well said, young warrior."

All three of us turn to face the god. Nateos is sitting on a throne of skulls. His scythe tossed carelessly to one side. His consort is missing, her throne of intricately wrought metal empty beside him. By his morose expression, Queen Kalla is still upset about us... me.

"Lord Nateos," we all offer him bows.

He scoffs, waving us off. "Why bow, Prince Thane? I am just her father. Why listen to a damn word I say?"

I share a knowing glance with Thelios. This unhappy, dare I say whiny, Nateos is new to us.

Nateos tosses a necklace at our feet. I bend and pick it up. Made of seven strands of delicate gold spun into small beads, they hold a pendant with ruby the color of blood spilling.

"What is this?" I ask. There is some terrible meaning in this.

"A gift from Urto."

"For who?" I rasp out, my fingers tightening on the beads. The necklace cuts into my skin, leaving indents in my palm.

"For my daughter. For the female he wishes to court as his Queen."

Thelios erupts. The roar of anguished madness that bellows from his lungs is painful for me to hear. It mixes with my own demon-fury, but I beat it down, force it to obey me. Losing control of my emotions will not win against Urto.

"She is not his Queen!" he screams. Claws and teeth erupt, his tail whipping out, nearly beheading Belen. Spikes line his shoulders, trailing down to his forearms that are covered in scales harder than any armor forged by any smithy in the above. Fangs snap as he howls again, sinking to his knees, claws buried in his hair.

"Thelios," I run to my brother. My brother, who, as much as I love to taunt him, is my little brother who never deserved the existence that our family gave him, is screaming in agony.

Nateos stands, striding over to us as Belen and I try to make Thelios give up his grip on his hair. His scalp is bleeding, coating his hair and making it hard to grip his wrists.

"That's it, son. Let it go," he says to Thelios quietly.

"What is happening to him?" My heart is racing but I need to stay calm. Thelios needs me. Mara needs me.

"His wings are re-forming. I assumed that all he would need is a little push," Nateos shrugs one shoulder calmly.

"Gods, are you fucking joking?" I ask in disbelief just as Thelios lets out another yell of pain.

"You should work on your language, young prince," the god remarks.

"Thelios, you heard him," I try to talk him through it calmly. "Let your body do what it needs to do."

"My wings," he mumbles, droplets of blood falling from his lips. "She cut my fucking wings off, Thane. That bitch," he spits blood onto my face.

"Yeah, she's a cunt. We talked about this," I joke with him, weakly. His face is pale, eyes dark as his pupils blow out from the excruciating agony.

"He doesn't deserve this shit," I tell Nateos furiously. "Wasn't losing his fucking wings bad enough?"

The god shrugs. "You wish to fight Urto for my daughter? Then help him grow a pair of wings, Thane."

I turn my back on the god. Belen is trying valiantly to stop Thelios from clawing his own scalp, his chest, his thighs.

I grab my brother's hands, wrenching them away, and let his claws sink into my own biceps. My scales protect me, but not from the crushing grip my brother exacts.

I growl at the sharp jolt of pain that slices through me. It takes a lot to override the instinct to fight off Thelios' grip.

"Come on, little brother," I encourage him. I wrap my arms around him and tear open the leather vest he wearing. "What do you see, Belen?"

"His back muscles are moving. I think.... shit!"

I feel his back split open under my hands. Muscles tears and Thelios screams in my ear, his claws sinking in even deeper into me. "That's it, little brother. Your wings are coming back."

Small nubs are ripping their way out of his back. It feels foreign under my hands. I feel them, the right wing emerging first, falling out to the ground. The left is stuck.

"Hurts," Thelios snarls. He roars again. I grab the wing and pull, ignoring his yell of fury. It finally comes free, falling out of him.

Slowly, Thelios loosens his grip on me. "Fuck," he gasps. For a long moment we stay still, just breathing, trying to recover.

"Are they really back, Thane?" He has the faint look of hope in his eyes.

"Stretch them out, brother," I tell him.

Huge leather wings, bloody and thin like a newborn's, but whole, spread out behind my brother.

I start to laugh. Thelios flaps his wings and starts to laugh with me.

Belen gags next to us. "Gods. That was disgusting. They just... oh gods, and then... so much goo."

We both watch as he vomits on the stone floor.

"At least he missed my Kalla's carpet," Nateos murmurs.

I hand the god the necklace. It was caught on the spikes on the back of my hand. It is crushed beyond recognition, the stone just red dust that falls to the floor.

"Tell Urto, we will fight him for our Fated."

Nateos smiles. "So be it."

The walls have fallen. Caved in under the relentless hunger of fire.

Hunger. Gods, I'm so hungry.

The screams of the Tasuri have fallen silent. Grief is seeping away. There is no one left to be filled with sorrow.

The undead are trapped in the inferno with me. I keep them here, leashed like my cats. Except, of course, I let the cats go.

Sometimes I think I can smell charred flesh from even inside my cairn. Their souls I keep with me. I've learned a lot since the fiasco with the Fourth House soldiers. I hold the souls and one day, when my mortal flesh finally gives out, I will bring them with me to the Underworld.

The water in the sarcophagus is hot, but not boiling. I'm so hungry, sometimes I wonder if anything about this is real.

I feel the flames die. Tmari is just embers and ash to be blown away into the sands across the Euphrates.

I'm so hungry. I close my eyes and imagine that I am on one of those long boats floating on the Euphrates. Acera are good sailors, good fishermen. I wonder if they have tamed the waters of the... what is it called? The sea? I would have liked to see the sea.

A giggle bubbles from my lips. I am on the sea, rocking back and forth.

Tasuri don't sail. They are too dependent on their wings, if they have them. Acera are good at something that Tasuri aren't, see?

My lungs hurt. Am I drowning? I feel the desert sun, beating down on my skin. It's so warm and bright. Arms wrap around me, a comforting embrace. My father.

Time to come home daughter

Well, I would, but I'm stuck in this boat.

My stomach is eating my backbone. Does my stomach have teeth? Maybe I am a Tasuri, after all, and my stomach is my demon. It's eating me because I didn't feed it enough.

I should have taken Poppy and the gargoyles on a boat. I heard that sailors are good with knots. Mishu and Mushu would have loved that.

The light grows brighter behind my eyelids. Almost too bright, as if someone is holding a torch right up to my face. I open my eyes, blinking into the light.

The sun is gone. The tomb is darkened, only lit by a few torches.

Lier takes my body out and lays me down on the altar. I am too weak to move. Too weak to even speak to him. Too weak to ask him what he is doing.

I don't feel the chains being draped over my body. I don't feel the spike going through my chest.

I feel no pain, not even the residual pain of grief's shadow.

I can feel Lier's hands trembling as he opens my mouth and slips the chain between my teeth.

Am I still wearing my robes? Did the acid burn them to pieces. Am I naked? I had better not be naked. A female should wear a pretty dress to die in.

I can hear Inanji's voice, her cruel laughter. The trembling in Lier's hands grows worse.

I feel the goddess leave. Then Lier leans over, kissing my cheek gently.

I lie in the dark. Without the waters I grow cold. So cold that I really wonder how the other Forgotten managed to rise from their tombs. I know that my legs would never support me.

Solid, warm arms wrap around me. These arms are real, I know that. The chains are gone, pulled off and discarded in the corner of the tomb. I feel him wrap me in thick furs that smell like him. I must be naked, damnit.

I can hear Poppy's voice, Erra responding. Oh, gods, he sounds older again.

Murmurs, then footsteps. I am jostled, voices raised in agitation. I am held tight, the male who holds me not handing me over to anyone else.

Strands of bonds drift through my fingers. My gargoyles are cooing. I hear a yowl of a cat. One of the males rumbles his discontent. Not everyone is a cat lover.

I am swaying again, drifting along on this warm, furry boat. Loud purrs and soft coos mix with the low rasp of male's voices. I smell sulfur and brimstone, sand and freshly cut flowers.

Words drift, occasionally piercing the fog of hunger in my mind.

"-blood?"

"As quickly as possible."

"-in a moment."

"Is mama died?"

"She is resting, Poppy, soon-"

I am picked up a little higher. Stone is banging. Am I back in a war?

"It's open."

"Princess, open your eyes, my Lady," his voice is soft.

I pry my eyes open, the effort enormous.

I see my home.

"It's amazing," I breathe, finding just enough strength to praise the beauty in front of me. The light is pouring from the land itself, soft grass swaying in the breeze under the trees filled with white flowers. Seeds of the lightest green drift on the breeze, making the fields seem magical.

The city is shining, a rainbow of colors dancing over polished stone. Seven gates soar high into the sky, each proud and straight. There are no Districts here. Everyone is free.

Shimmering over it all are the bonds. Those ribbons are dancing, some of them moving languidly, some faster, more than I ever saw in the above. They paint the landscape in their vibrant color, so much so that I have to sort them by color just to understand how many there are.

The bright whites and blues, strong cords that are too thick to curve. Golden curlicues wrapping around and in and out of soul after soul. The softer hues of lavender and green, flat and wide. Every once in awhile there are bonds like my own, bright as fire. Only mine are red, however.

"Isn't it beautiful?" I whisper.

"It is, Princess." I can tell by his voice that he doesn't completely agree. There is dread there, a distaste that is deep and unforgiving.

"Huh?" Momo turns his head to the side, contemplating the city below us. "Pffffft," he says, then starts to join Poppy and Erra as they cavort through the cemetery behind us.

"Children," Ililie calls out, "let's go down below. Poppy, your mama must eat soon."

We descend to the city. In front of us soars the city gate. We approach, but our procession hesitates at bridge, feet slowing to a stop. I can feel the souls staring, hear the whispers of hostility. There are things to fix here.

I reach out to cup his cheek. "Lier," I manage to say his name. My hand shakes. He looks down at me. "You belong here. This is your home."

He shakes his head. "I don't, Princess. You don't understand. This city..." his voice trails off.

"I know, Lier. I can see it," I smile weakly at him. "Your bond with me. I see it, Lier. I know. I see it."

Tears spring into his eyes. His jaw flexes, working as he tries to contain the emotion spilling from his dark eyes.

"I'm sorry," he chokes out. "I was jealous, of my own baby sister, I was so fucking-" he buries his face in the furs surrounding me, his chest heaving a little.

Alnue climbs his shoulders. I smile at my smart little gargoyle. He looks at me, his ears laid back, ashamed. He must have hidden the scrolls that would have told me that my father had a son.

Lier manages to control himself, barely. His face rises, streaks telling me that my proud brother, a leader of warriors, a son of a god, had been crying.

"Tell me," I ask. I snuggle closer, feeling safe here in his embrace.

"My father," he starts slow, swallowing, shaking his head, "our father... he never loved my mother. She was a Tasuri, a proud female, too proud for her own good. She seduced our father one night, in the above, when he was drunk because your mother wouldn't look twice at him. It was years before your mother wed him," he reassures me. "My mother took advantage of his grief and nine months later, there I was. She raised me to hate him, to resent the male who married a common Acera instead of her. I didn't know he was the Death god until I was bitten in the desert and died. He doesn't love me and he loves you. I was jealous. I'm sorry, Mara." He explains himself simply, bluntly. But, I told him the truth, I see him, my brother. So proud. So full of hurt.

"Who knows?" I whisper.

"No one," he says quietly. "Just you, me, and our father."

"Do you want them to know?" I ask him. I can still feel the gazes on us.

"Nateos doesn't want to acknowledge me," he says simply.

"But do you want it, Lier? I would like my big brother by my side."

"I am," he replies simply. I can see that he has his emotions back under control, and just like that, the subject is dropped, for now.

"Can you put me down, Lier? I need to stand up for a moment."

"You are too weak, Mara."

"I need to set them free," I murmur sleepily.

"Who? Mara?" I feel Lier gently shake me.

"Take me to the water."

I am set gently down on my feet, but I'm still held tight to Lier, his arms supporting me. I try to lean down, but he won't budge.

"Lier? I need... water."

"No, Mara. That's the Crone River, little one. You can't touch it."

"I have to touch it," I whimper, tears that I can't afford to shed drop from my eyes. Three of them hit the water.

"Holy fucking gods," I hear a whisper from behind us.

"The water..." Lier says in a hushed voice.

I pry my eyes open to see the Crone River winding under our feet. The clear water is tinged pink now.

"It's clean," Holsten comes to stand next to me.

I'm not sure what they are all so stunned by. It was clean before, now it's just a different color.

"Ah, who are all these shifters?"

I look behind me with effort. Hordes of souls are waiting patiently for us to walk through the gates. I smile.

"It's the undead army. They are free now."

I collapse, my knees giving out and my head pounding, but my brother catches me.