I pat Nemha on her back until she gives me a very satisfying burp. My mother instantly claims her granddaughter, smiling at Nemha and setting her gently on the bed to dress her.

"Mama, look!" Poppy lets out a happy giggle and whirls around in a circle. Her dress of light grey is shot through with strands of pure, shining pink. A white fur stole is wrapped around the collar of the dress, making her red hair pop. On top of her head is a small circle of gold, the coronet set with dark onyx stones.

I smile. "You look beautiful, just like a princess," I tell her.

"Grandfather says, I am a princess!" Poppy giggles.

I force myself to seem cheerful. I'm still upset with my father. He knew that a god could forge themselves with a soul. He must have done that with my mother's Fated male years ago, before I was born, maybe. Did he know what Urto had planned? Was that his intention all along?

Stop it, Mara. I'll drive myself insane...

Harku taps my leg. In his arms is my wedding dress, a grown-up version of the one Poppy is wearing. Mushu keeps touching the fabric reverently, an action that gets his hand slapped away every time.

I slip into the robes of grey, feeling the soft linen caress my skin. The pink in the gown is less striking than Poppy's, instead there is gold everywhere. I am dripping in finery that I have never even seen before, much less worn. Harku even dusted my own skin with gold, my hair threaded through with the same.

Harku coos at me, smoothing the skirts down. His large, black bat-eyes blink in adoration.

"You did a wonderful job, Harku," I reassure him.

He sighs, rubbing his palms together. I turn to look at the females in the room. My females, my family.

I glance over at Napthia. I wasn't sure if I should allow her here, while I prepared for my wedding, but something in my heart tugged at her lost expression. I don't know much about her, but Lier said that judging from her lack of speaking and her reactions to everything, she hasn't seen much of the world.

I'm afraid she was locked in that cellar for most of her life. Now, she has Love in her, but how much of it is Love in truth and how much is Inanji?

The new Love goddess offers me a tentative smile before her eyes fall back to her lap. Tafia pats her hand gently.

Tafia. Another female I feel conflicted about. She returned, one of the souls that followed me from the Necropolis of the Lost. They are all here, in the lower levels of the Palace, free, but not exactly healthy.

How do you truly recover when your own soul betrays you? There is quite a lot of anger and resentment in their hearts and minds.

I look at Nehma. She is Righteous Vengeance. I wonder what role she will play with those hurting souls? The part of me that is Grief knows that she will have to be the one to help them, not me.

A knock comes. Alnue opens the door. Patriarch Rimon greets me, "it's time, Mara." His eyes mist over with emotion as he sees me. "You are a vision," he tells me quietly.

"Thank you, Patriarch," I murmur, feeling nervous. A wedding, Mardu calls it, but really what does that mean? Will we exchange gifts as if we live in the above? Will my males give my father a few sheep and a goat in exchange for his daughter? Will a marriage contract be written?

Here, life often imitates the traditions and customs from the above... or maybe the above is the imitation. Regardless, I think that having a wedding between myself and my males is just Mardu's excuse to throw a party.

I look out of the balcony windows, to the Arena. It is lit with thousands of torches. More line the streets from Irkalla to the Arena. It was decided that the wedding would take place here, and that my males would come to me.

Not the way it is in the above. I laugh to myself, picturing Thane and Thelios being delivered to me in the back of a donkey-cart, flowers woven into their hair. They would make ugly brides.

"What are you thinking of?" Patriarch asks me.

"The weddings in the above," I tell him. "I married Thelios, but it was a private ceremony, because neither of us had Houses or families. There was no dowry. And... of course it all went so wrong."

I catch Patriarch looking at me in sympathy. "It's all over, Patriarch. I have both my males, now. This ceremony is just the silliness of Mardu."

"It isn't, Mara. You are the Princess of the Underworld. It's a celebration of the end of this silent war between the gods. All souls rejoice for you."

I look at him, wondering if he truly believes that. I've lost quite a bit of my own naivete. Grief and War? We will always have enemies.

Something dances in the corner of my eye, catching my attention. I leave Patriarch's side and wander over to the small balcony that overlooks the Fields of the Lost. In the distance past the Gate, I can see a small light. I narrow my eyes, staring into the dark. It flickers, just the tiniest flame, almost hidden in the darkness.

"The souls are assembling," Mama says from behind me.

I look over at her. She nods her head towards the Arena. Her excitement is palpable. I hear a cheer and walk to the other balcony, seeing the Arena lights flashing as the torches are held. My males have begun their walk. They will light the bonfire with their torches and we will make our vows in the courtyard.

My head turns back to the Field. My feet follow.

"Mara! Where are you going?" my mother calls out after me.

"Bring the babies to the ceremony, mama, will you?" I say absently. "I will be back in just a moment."

I know my way to the Eastern Gate very well, now. It takes very little time. The streets here are empty. Everyone is at the Arena or lining the streets on the pathway.

My gargoyles follow me down. My assassins are at the Gate already. How they knew to be there I have no idea, but I offer them both smiles. They bow, low, in unison, as I walk through the open Gate.

The small candle is held by a soul I recognize. "Enlil," I gasp. I barely recognize the Recondite soul that I turned into my servant with my blood in the above.

He bows, the flame flickering.

"Why are you here, Enlil?" I ask, confused.

"We belong here, Princess," he tells me respectfully.

We.

I look behind him as other flames begin to flicker to life. There are thousands of them. Pouring over the hills, gathering close to Enlil and I. Each soul, holding a small candle. Some are red, some are grey, or white, or black. All of them lit with the green-orange flames of hellfire.

I frown. "The souls of the Forgotten have been damned to an eternity of darkness. Why, then, are you all waiting in the Fields and not crossing over? You can come live in the city."

"Saaadd," Harku hisses softly.

"This is the place we come to, when we wish to repent for the harm we caused in the above," Enlil tells me. A sorrowful look flickers on his face. "We are... sad, Princess," he smiles ruefully at Harku, "but hopeful."

He's telling the truth. Enlil is heavy with grief. I reach out and touch the thick mantle that lays across his shoulders. It feels like mist, damp skin and cool mornings. Not substantial, but still heavy.

"Don't take it, Princess. It is my burden to carry, until I shed it myself."

I look into his eyes. "How do you know this, Enlil?"

"I feel it. You have saved us. Even among the Lost, Princess, we speak of you setting our bonds free. When I am ready, I will return to Ersetu."

I look at all of the faces surrounding me. "Not all souls who have done wrong in the above are here," I say slowly. I don't see Sera anywhere, and I know that Anthea never came here.

"Only those seeking redemption," Enlil agrees. "We want to heal."

Is this what freedom offers in the Underworld? A chance to redeem yourself free of shackles set by gods. Healing... healing themselves? Their bonds? I suppose only time will tell.

"May we request something, Princess?" Enlil asks me.

I look at him in silence.

"We would like to come with you, for your wedding. To celebrate."

I smile. "Of course."

---

"Where is she?" I growl at the new Love god. It's low, rumbling dangerously. War is here. We are not happy. Standing here in this ridiculous finery, with gold dripping from our asses like female whores. Not something we argued with... but now our female is not here.

The Love god shrugs, and remarks casually, "not here."

Asshole.

Not here.

My other snarls and punches the stone wall. Dumb, unless you are War. The stone crumbles and he keeps pacing.

My Heart's orange-eyed gargoyle is standing next to me, his arms crossed, an angry expression on his face as he shakes his head back and forth.

The others are pacing with my other, their hands held behind their backs, heads down, frowning. An imitation of myself.

It would be funny... if our female was here, where she is supposed to be, for our wedding.

The torch is dangerously close to my fist. I've let it burn down low, until almost all of the fuel is gone.

When we first arrived and Mara was nowhere to be seen we thought that she was primping, still getting ready. But, then Death's Lady came with our children, and no Heart.

Not here.

Now, War is angry. And scared. So fucking scared that our goddess changed her mind.

But that makes no sense. She loves us. We love her. We know that nothing is wrong. Her Basru is standing around, at attention, not concerned by their missing goddess. Death looks bored as he and the father god talk quietly. The mother looks too prim and proper to be a part of the wedding between Grief and War, but that's just our opinion.

Our Heart is just... late. Very late.

I hiss when the flames of the torch touch my skin. With a roar, I toss the entire torch into the kindling of the bonfire. My other shoves his in right after me. Shoulder-to-shoulder, we watch the flames burn.

"She loves us," I reassure him quietly.

He nods, jaw clenched, tears glistening.

She loves us. We are War. We have brought her pain, but she loves us. She is our goddess, Our Heart. We came to claim her today. If she thinks to escape us, she must run fast. We will hunt her to the ends of the above and prove ourselves worthy, if need be.

A soft murmur sweeps the silently watching crowd. I turn my head.

A spark of light becomes two, then more and more, until the streets are overcome with a trail of seamless candlelight. The dead light the way for their princess to wed her warrior gods.

Our Heart is leading them, in the center, her beauty overwhelming to any spectators brave enough to watch. They wind through the city, past every home and business, a parade of the city's ancestors, rich and poor, male and female, of every House. They all follow our bride.

She is an otherworldly sight. A beacon in the night. Impossible, miraculous. She is a living goddess, Death's daughter and a goddess in her own right.

She is here.

This is the right way, we realize. We are her choice. She will come to us, to show all souls that the Daughter of Death chooses War as her own husband. Husbands.

And in moments, she will be wed to us in front of all souls. Death's Blessing will belong to us. And no one will ever take her from us again.

The end, but not for us. Never for us. Even in death we find each other.

Eons I have been alone. Nothing to light my spirit but bloodshed on the field of battle. Soulless, empty, not truly alive and with nothing to exist for.

She reaches us, Our Heart. The candles swell, lights pouring into the streets of Ersetu.

"My Loves," she says softly.

That sorrow of wanting something just out of reach is gone, drifting away as the bonfire grows, the flames reaching higher and higher until they wrap us in their warm embrace. The greatest treasure any god can ask for is ours... forever.

---

"That's perfect," I smile at Patriarch Salbin broadly. Bell laughs, clapping her hands together excitedly and babbling, 'mama!' over and over.

I give her the doll that she loves so much, and she laughs again, and starts to chew on the dolls linen-wrapped hands. Those are the dolls' third set of hands. Ever since her fangs came in I can't keep up with the sewing.

"Do you suppose she would approve?" Patriarch asks me.

I look at the stone archway. The only building left standing from the devastating fire over a year ago was this one, the Mausoleum of the Recondites. We have done nothing but post warnings around the ruins of the city, telling travelers and would-be-explorers that this place has been cursed by Death.

The stone archway is the final warning, placed here to tell anyone brave enough to come this close to the truth of this place;

The Twins shall be given this gift: a Fated female of unsurpassed beauty and strength, a goddess of greatness in spirit and form. Together they will rule beyond even Death. For she is Grief and Flesh is Flesh, Stone is Stone, and they are gods.

"Not much of a warning," Postite Falso grumbles. His eyes are tired. He is in charge of organizing the remaining few Tasuri that sought our help into a workforce. It wasn't easy.

I brush my hands over the stone. "It is the truth, though. We all felt it, the Fires. Do you suppose that she's happy?"

"Yes, Esa. And one day we will see it for ourselves," Postite Banio says with pure confidence. I just smile and shake my head. He is more optimistic than anyone I have ever met before. I'm so thankful that the Postites and Patriarch of Nateos are with me and Bell. I would never have made it this far without their faith.

My eyes slide to his cairn without permission. I choke back the tears. I have lost so much in life, but his loss hits harder than anything I could have ever believed possible. Bell is the only thing that keeps me going, most days. That and the Postites' unshakeable belief that I will see my Belen again, one day.

"Well, supper, then bedtime, I suppose," I say with forced cheerfulness. I hate nighttime. I cuddle Bell close and that helps, but the loneliness that gnaws on my spine like a living rat is oppressive at night.

I take a shallow breath, then another, before the tears are at bay, again.

Walking back to my tent, I think about how much harder it is in this place. It was made clear to us that Tasuri must not follow the Acera down the river, so we all went north. Our new city, Kesh, is little more than a small settlement at the base of the northern mountain forests, but at least there the memories of Belen don't haunt me so much.

Bell falls asleep quickly after eating, little piggie that she is. I stroke the dark curls away from her face, wishing, not for the first time, that she was really mine, my little female with Belen. And that he would walk in after a long day's work and greet me with a kiss and hug.

Gods, I miss him.

"I nearly forgot how beautiful you are."

I go still. The tears that have been hovering on my lashes all damn day spill over, making the figure that moves towards me out of the shadows blurry.

I know it's not him. It can't be him. It can't be. He's dead. Gone. Lost to me. It can't be my Belen.

But it is him. His green cat-eyes, smiling white teeth with sharp canines, the soft brush of downy hair running down the back of his neck that I wind my fingers through... his scent, his voice... it's all my Belen.

"You're here," I whisper, choked. "Am I dead? Did... did the curse kill me?" I don't remember dying.

"No, my love, my Esa, my brave female, you're not dead." Strong arms wrap around my middle and hold me close.

I close my eyes tightly, afraid that if I open them it'll all just disappear.

"Don't cry, my beautiful Esa." Warm lips sip gently at my tears before calloused fingers wipe them away.

"How?" I croak out.

"I am the Commander of the Basru," he tells me softly. "The Guardians of the Seven Gates of the Underworld and the Lady Grief herself."

I am shaking, trembling, a mess. And very glad that Bell isn't awake to see her mother lose her mind. "How long do I have before you disappear again?"

He kisses me, a brief, heart-stopping kiss. "I will travel back and forth for you, my beautiful Esa. I will be your husband and little Bell's father. Thank you, by the way, for naming her for me."

"Who says I named her for you?" I tease him, weakly, Inside, my body is exploding into tiny fragment of wonder and excitement and dread. What if I'm dreaming?

"This is real," Belen promises me. "You can never tell anyone who I truly am, but the rules of Death are a little different for me, for us."

"You will be here tomorrow morning?"

He's quiet for a moment. "If I can't be? Esa... do you still love me?" he asks hesitantly.

I finally find the strength to open my eyes. "Forever and always."

He smiles and I smile back, silently thanking Mara for my miracle.