Back in Deianira’s library, there was a story Scarlet had read about the gods. About how they used to be a single god, who held every aspect of existence within themself. So powerful was this god, and yet, it was difficult to exist as a being with so many clashing faucets. Every emotion that could ever exist, in constant conflict.

So this being decided to create vessels, smaller beings that could hold some of this weight. Thus, humans were created. The humans, indeed, took some of this burden. But these new mortals picked and chose their emotions, and ran rampant with them. Wars began between the humans, pain and suffering took its toll. The being, the god, was left with love and empathy in their heart, for these mortals who were in so much pain.

It saddened them to look upon their creations with love, only to see them ripping each other apart. Observing the humans suffer while holding eternal compassion caused a crack to form in their heart, and eventually it tore the god into multiple beings.

It broke them. And Scarlet knew now how they felt. Her heart had been fractured so many times. The moment Riordan had struck her, when he’d hunted her in the forest—that was the first crack. It was the beginning of the end, the catalyst to all the rest.

It had brought her to this moment. Dante. He died saving her, and then—

She could have defeated Riordan. But she hesitated, and now Dante’s sacrifice had been for nothing.

Nothing, because that’s what she was. She was broken.

Scarlet didn’t speak to anyone in the days following the battle. Forcing words out was more effort than she could afford. Shoving the food that was brought to her into her mouth was the most she could manage.

She and Ange had been staying in a house together. They weren’t told who it belonged to. The owner wasn’t present. An abode of a fallen Vanguardian. A depressing thought, which Scarlet suppressed. She couldn’t layer any more feelings onto the ones she was dealing with already.

Since Dante had returned her soul to her, it seemed as if cobwebs had been dusted away from her mind, and everything around her was brighter than before. It was a vivid desolation, colors were too saturated for her weary eyes. A constant gnawing of inner pain made her lethargic and constantly nauseated.

Hopeless was an understatement in describing how she felt. She wanted to burn the whole World down, yet no flames came to her anymore. Her magic, her anger, were silent for once. She oscillated between being full of sadness and pain, and feeling nothing at all.

What was to happen next, Scarlet didn’t know. Didn’t care, either, though it was hard to avoid Ange’s fervent planning. As soon as she was well enough to sit up, Ange demanded maps be brought to her. After they arrived, she poured over them constantly, muttering to herself and occasionally to Scarlet, who ignored her to the best of her abilities. Eventually she caught on to the fact that Ange was searching for magus stone, preferably a large amount of it.

The other thing to avoid was Jarrett. He came calling daily, and each time he did, Scarlet locked herself in her room. He would come knock, ask to speak to her, and Scarlet would hide under her covers and wish that she couldn’t hear him.

Her father. It was hard to think of him as that. She’d spent so long trying not to think about him at all. Jarrett had left her and her mother years ago, with no explanation—or so she had thought. According to Ange, Scarlet’s mother had locked away Jarrett’s memories and left him behind, then lied to Scarlet about his disappearance.

Her own memories had been fogged when she broke her connection to the Crossworld. Too much of herself had flowed into the stream of souls. But now that she was put back together, she recognized him instantly.

Scarlet was baffled at her mother’s betrayal. Among everything else, she didn’t know how to begin to process the lies she’d been fed, by the person she trusted the most. While her mother didn’t tell her a lot, she trusted that what little she was given was the truth.

She knew it was cruel to avoid Jarrett. In the end, he had been the innocent one. And yet, Scarlet wasn’t ready to sort out her feelings and face the man that she had scorned in her thoughts for the last four years.

Whenever Jarrett came, Scarlet could hear Ange gently console him, and urge him to give her time. Of course, Ange wouldn’t let her get away with avoidance forever. Scarlet woke one morning to a relentless knocking on her door.

“Scarlet, get out here. It’s time.”

Scarlet ignored her, wrapping herself tighter in the rough blankets. Unfortunately, doing so didn’t make either of them disappear. Ange kept knocking.

“You know I can get into there if I want to,” Ange said. “Why don’t you come out?”

If Ange wanted to break in, then so be it. Scarlet could feel the flash of energy, and hear the crack of her lock breaking.

Ange had left her be, until today. Now, a serious expression was plastered onto the woman’s face. “Let’s go.”

Seeing Ange’s expression, Scarlet finally spoke, barely croaking the word through her throat. “Where?”

“We’re meeting with what’s left of the Vanguard council and some of the remaining Ravens.”

“Why?”

“To figure out a plan, of course. Our next step.”

“No.”

Ange seemed genuinely and annoyingly confused at Scarlet’s lack of enthusiasm. “No?”

“No more plans. It’s over.”

“It’s far from over.”

Scarlet rolled away so she wouldn’t have to look at Ange anymore. “Maybe for you.”

“You want Kiera back, don’t you?”

“Nothing we can do. Everyone’s dead. The swords are gone.”

“Think for a second, would you?” Ange snapped. “Riordan has Death. That means she can’t aid souls into the Nextworld.”

Scarlet rolled back over. “So what?”

“It means that souls might not be crossing over. Which is bad, because they will be trapped in an eternal purgatory until she can return. But, anyone killed in the battle—well, they might not be gone yet. I took the bodies that I could, and encased them in magus stone, down in the vault. They’ll be preserved, until it’s time. We could bring some of them back.”

A name sat unspoken between them.

Dante.

Scarlet remembered the last part of the story she’d read.

After the original god splintered, the new gods took on certain aspects to contain and a piece of the continent Nymandia to oversee. The more of each gods’ aspects exist in the World, the more power the gods gain both the World and the Crossworld.

They started the Magus War. They fought for what they had, what they wanted.

Even shattered, they formed new beings. It wasn’t the end of their story—in a way, it was a beginning.

Scarlet felt something. It was small, not even a spark. But it was enough. “Alright. I’ll come.”

#

They were the last to arrive to the council room. A dozen or so people were gathered loosely around the council table, some seated, some standing. The Ravens and their dark garb made them stand out from the Vanguardians. She recognized a couple of them from her visits to the Ravens with her mother, including the Ravens’ leader, Leandra. Her mother had never let her speak with her, but she had caught enough glances of her over the years to remember her face.

Barek was there, standing next to Fae, the Raven girl she’d met during the battle. Ange introduced her to Hera and Leon, members of the Vanguard council. On their way to the meeting, Ange told her that the other members of the council, Korene and Rohan, had succumbed to the injuries Riordan gave them.

And then there was Jarrett, of course, at the head of the table. She avoided meeting his gaze and kept close to Ange.

Ange let the armful of maps she carried tumble onto the council table.

“Any luck?” Jarrett asked.

Ange sighed. “None whatsoever. I can’t think of anywhere that might have easy access to as much magus stone as we need. All the good places in Saridian, I already stripped clean.”

“And you’re sure there’s not enough left in the vault here?”

“Yes. The cavern looks impressive, but the layer of magus stone is thin. Even if I hadn’t done my… interment project, I doubt it would be enough.”

Scarlet cleared her throat. “What’s going on?”

Ange leveled an annoyed look at her. “You would know if you had bothered to pay any attention this past week. We need another magus weapon. But it takes magus stone, obviously—and a lot of it. More than you’d think. And there’s nowhere left nearby with enough of it.”

“So we’ll have to go farther,” Hera said. “Outside of Saridian if we have to.”

Ange shook her head. “Impossible. Celeigh’s mountains are ripe with magus stone, but it’s far too dangerous to risk extracting it. Riordan doesn’t keep an eye on his magus stone. Trust me when I say that Meyra does. Touching it breaks the magus treaty, and she’ll have no mercy on us. Another god at our heels is the last thing we need right now.”

“What about the missing sword?” Scarlet asked.

“Your mother was the only lead I had in finding it. We could keep searching, but we’re running out of time. The flow of souls will become stuck without Death, not to mention that Riordan will come for us once he’s recovered.”

Scarlet caught Jarrett staring at her, and he quickly looked away. He cleared his throat. “Alright then. Any other alternatives?”

“The mage prison.” Everyone turned to look at Barek. “Beneath Riordan’s castle,” he continued. “It’s made entirely of magus stone. It has to be enough.”

“There’s a mage prison?” Scarlet stared daggers at Ange, who didn’t look surprised at this piece of information. She’d known, and not told Scarlet, though this could be where her mother was hidden.

“There is,” Ange said. “It’s one of Riordan’s well-kept secrets. Jayden was being held there. We’re probably the only ones outside of Riordan’s castle that knows of its existence. And I think making a new weapon there is our only option.”

Leandra spoke up. “You want to crawl beneath Riordan’s own nose? That’s a suicide mission, if I ever heard one.” Scarlet had never been close enough to Leandra before to catch a glimpse of her hands, though she had always tried to. Leandra reached up to itch her face, and Scarlet finally got the confirmation of the suspicions she’d built up: Death’s emissary mark was tattooed on her hand. She’d been right. It was the reason her mother had never let them meet.

Thinking of her mother ignited a smolder deep in Scarlet’s chest. In the meantime, a blanket of silence had fallen over the room. She always wanted to hide everything from me. Her emissary duties especially. But I still can’t believe she hid away Jarrett.

“I don’t know if I like it either, Leandra,” said Ange. “But it may well be our only option.”

“Two emissaries,” the woman, Leandra, responded. “A handful of Vanguard soldiers. A couple Raven mages. You really think we can take down Riordan with that?”

Ange shrugged. “I refuse to fail.”

#

After the meeting, Scarlet and Leandra both lingered in the council room while the others filtered out. Leandra remained seated at the council table, while Scarlet loomed by the door. For some reason, she felt better having an escape route. Maybe it was the way the woman’s icy eyes seemed to bite into her.

“I was hoping you would stay and speak with me,” Leandra said. “I was sorry I did not get a chance to talk to you before the battle.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to speak to you years ago.”

“Your mother had a certain way of shielding you, didn’t she?”

Scarlet choked out a bitter laugh. “You could put it that way.”

“While I haven’t gotten a chance to get to know you, I have had the opportunity of enjoying your work. I must say, your flamescribing was quite masterfully done.”

“Thank you.” It had been so long since she’d hunched over her pages, working, letters endlessly flowing out in front of her. Though Death’s concentration exercises had bored her, she’d always been enraptured with flamescribing. Would that still be the case now? The time where flamescribing had been her one connection to magic was far behind her.

Suddenly, she missed the scent of charred paper.

Leandra gestured to the chair across from her own. “Why don’t you have a seat with me?”

“No.” Scarlet fidgeted. “I’m okay.”

“Ah. I’m making you uneasy, aren’t I?” A pressure Scarlet didn’t realize she had felt faded away. “I must apologize. I use my insight magic somewhat unintentionally, at times. I shouldn’t pry without asking, so I won’t. Will you sit with me, now?”

Scarlet cautiously took the seat opposite Leandra. “What exactly was that?”

“I’m attuned to Io. My gift is insight, specifically. I have a knack for being able to see things about people that they can’t see themselves. Like Bronwen—he has a kind of insight as well, but most of what he sees are the powers of others.”

“You know Bronwen?”

“Of course.” Leandra let out a long sigh. “We’re the last three of Death’s emissaries, you, me, and him. Last four, if your mother lives. Which, I’d like to believe she does. She’s the strongest woman I’ve met.”

“I hope you’re right.” Scarlet’s words came out raspier than she expected. “How long have you been an emissary for?”

“A long time. But we aren’t here to talk about me.”

“You’d rather talk about Death?”

“No. I’m interested in you. I’d like to do a reading, if you’d give me your permission.”

“And what exactly will that do?”

“As I said, I can see things that others can’t see about themselves.”

Scarlet shook her head. She was raw, empty. “There’s nothing left to see.”

“You think this is pointless? Dante saved you with the help of his insight powers. He didn’t even know he had them, until I told him.”

“Dante has powers like yours?”

“He could read the emotions and souls of others. Similar, yet different to my own powers. But that’s how he was able to find your soul in the stream of souls, and pull you fully back into the World.”

Desolation began to build up as a pressure in her chest. “I don’t want to talk about him right now.”

“That’s fine. I just want you to know that this is something worthwhile.” Leandra held out her hand. “If you’re willing to be a little vulnerable with me, I might be able to help you.”

Vulnerable was the last thing she wanted to be.

But where had that gotten her? She’d opened up to Dante too late, he’d been ripped away from her only a moment after she was able to let him in. If she couldn’t bring Dante back, Scarlet knew she’d regret her denial of him and her own feelings for the rest of her life.

She placed her hand in Leandra’s.

The uneasy feeling came back with the other emissary’s touch. She felt like a book being rifled through as someone searched for a particular passage. After a long minute, Leandra seemed to find what she was looking for, and withdrew her hand.

“You’re an interesting girl,” Leandra said. “Or, young woman, I should say. How old are you now?”

“Seventeen.” She’d almost forgotten that her birthday had passed in her months at Deianira.

“You’re at least as tough as your mother. You’re going to need all of that strength, every drop of it. And forgiveness.”

“Forgiveness?”

“You’ll drown in your own pain otherwise.”

Scarlet swallowed. There was a lot of forgiveness she wasn’t ready to give out yet.

“It doesn’t have to be all at once,” Leandra added.

A lump built in her throat. Who exactly was she supposed to forgive?

Her mother for lying to her? Jarrett for being gone? Dante for giving up his life to save her, when she’d much rather he be alive instead of her? Bronwen for staying at Deianira despite Death’s horrendous actions? Death, herself?

“Is that all?” Scarlet asked. She barely waited for Leandra’s nod before nearly knocking her chair over standing up. This outing had been more than enough for the day.