I cut the child’s umbilical cord, tying it off with a strip of linen torn from my dress, and wrapped the babe in Elysa’s discarded cloak. I sent my light—weakened, but steady despite the impossible amount of it I’d used—through every inch of her little body. Strong, with the piglet pink skin of a healthy newborn. My magic had left her perfect and whole.

But babes needed their mothers, and hers lay dead on the cold stone of the altar.

I pressed a gentle hand to Aphaea’s brow, tears streaming down my cheeks. She was naked and bloody, her abdomen a ruined, gaping wound that would never heal.

Aphaea had been good. She’d kept a careful vigil at the hearth in the Temple of Hestia. She’d fed the hungry. Kept the fire burning for the homeless. She’d clothed the orphans on the streets of the Celestial City and helped them survive when no one else cared to. What Elysa had done . . . Hearthkeepers were rare. Without her, the Celestial City would be . . . less. Aphaea deserved better than this end. She deserved more dignity than what she’d been given in this death.

With gentle fingers, I shut her sightless eyes. Then I unwrapped Parthenia’s cloak from my shoulders and covered my friend the best I could.

At the movement, the baby whimpered. Her mouth open, she rooted in search of a breast, in search of nourishment I could not give her. I took her tiny fisted hand and placed it close to her lips. She found it and suckled, drifting back to sleep. It would placate her for the moment, but the baby needed to feed. Soon.

The chamber was brighter since the Crone’s darkness had been scourged from the undercroft. The torches glowed healthy, flames strong. It was easy enough to leave the underground temple behind, harder to abandon Aphaea’s still form, but I traveled back the way I’d come, my breath still coming in ragged, panting sobs. The baby woke again, nuzzling against my chest and letting out an agitated little gurgle, spurring me on more quickly. I hastened my steps—perhaps faster than was wise.

I moved from the rough stone stairwell, closing the spelled door behind me, and stepped onto the polished marble floor of the temple proper. Deep darkness still coated the massive rotunda in night. Not even the towering effigy of Selene was visible in the gloom.

I tightened my arm around the baby and guided myself along the rounded wall towards the temple doors with my free hand.

Silver light blazed through the room.

My eyes, still accustomed to the darkness, shut tight against the sudden flare. Blinded, I stood still as a shocked doe.

Harsh laughter echoed through the temple.

My eyes shot open. I saw nothing but flashes of light and shadows, but, instinctively, my magic took over. A shield of warm light flared to life, surrounding the baby in my arms.

A tongue clicked in disapproval. “Really?” Elysa’s voice called. “No wall of flame. No great blast of golden light.” She laughed again, heels clicking against the marble as she approached. “Such a small glow you cast. And not even for your own protection, but for that worthless human you hold. And she is a human now. I took what I wanted from its mother. And whatever power that babe possessed . . . Well, I took that too.”

My sight finally adjusted to the light. It filtered down from an orb that shimmered in the air above us, casting a circular glow like a spotlight made of moonbeam.

Selene’s magic.

The baby whimpered and searched for a breast.

I found my sister’s gaze. Her red lips were spread in a wolf’s grin. “I’m taking her to someone who can care for her,” I said. “To a nursing mother who can feed her.”

Pale hands spread in a peaceful gesture. “Who’s stopping you?”

Eyes narrowed, I took a hesitant step.

Elysa’s left hand shot forward. A spear of inky darkness cracked towards me like a whip.

I braced just in time, throwing more magic into my shield. Her power struck my light, and the darkness fractured, scattering. Shimmering black masses of Elysa’s power clinked like thick pieces of glass where they landed across the marble.

“Better,” Elysa said. “Let’s see what else you’ve got.”

I glanced down at a small shard of oily darkness that had landed by my foot. A small screech, then the tick, tick, tick of tiny feet.

For a heartbeat, I thought it a trick of the light. My eyes . . . perhaps my eyes had not adjusted to the brightness.

The black shard stood on fractured, sharp-edged legs. Like a wet dog, it shook itself, then skittered, first to one side, then another, as if getting its bearings. But then it scrambled across the floor. My eyes followed. Warmth leeched from my bones as each shard of broken magic did the same. They swarmed at Elysa’s feet like hundreds of spiders, until each piece melded together to form an undulating, viscous dark mass.

Elysa reached towards the coagulating magic and it slowly disappeared, her body reabsorbing the parasitic power of the Crone.

“You didn’t just free the Crone,” I said, voice shaking. “You . . . you’ve given yourself over to her.”

Colorless eyes fixed on me, something dark flickering behind her gaze. “She’s whispered to me since I was a little girl. I never once heard Selene’s voice. She never once came to me, as your mother did. But the Crone was there—the mother Selene wasn’t.”

“Elysa, this is madness—”

“No,” she growled, white teeth gritted. “The Crone was there with me, always. When Solara was too shallow to care about anyone but herself. When you were too busy playing the part of the talented, strong Korai to be a true sister,” she cried, her voice growing sharp, unhinged. “When Sibyl and the rest of the priestesses ignored me and favored sweet Solara and brilliant Aurora. No one had time for poor, plain Elysa. Then Varian came . . . and you took him, too.” She shook her head, her normally expressionless gaze wide and wild, though when she spoke next her voice had settled into its normally cool timbre. “But I suppose light and warmth are easier to love than darkness. The Crone helped me see that playing by the rules will never make anyone love me. She’s helped me free myself.”

Free herself . . . I reached within, felt that deep place where my magic lived. Where so much of it had been hidden beneath a false barrier. Spelled, somehow, to keep me contained. To keep me from accessing too much of my own power. Until I’d shattered it only moments before. If the Crone helped free her . . . “The false bottom,” I breathed. “They hid your power, too?”

Elysa’s lip curled. “Well, isn’t it just like you to assume you were the only one? The only Korai strong enough for such a precaution to be necessary. Of course, mine was hidden. But it doesn’t matter now. I’m free. And in return, the Crone wanted the same gift—freedom. She told me how to do it. How to take the power I needed to make us one.” She paused, eyes growing distant. “The three belong together, but Selene betrayed them. She let Helios and Eos cage the Maiden and Crone. So, I shall become what she was too weak to be. I am the Three-Faced One, now.”

I shook my head. “The Crone is madness, Elysa. Selene—a goddess—could not control her. What makes you think you can?” Again, something strange flickered behind her eyes. A ball of lead settled in my gut. “Are you even in control now?”

“Enough. I’m offering you a chance here, sister. With my power, our enemies’ strengths can become our own. Aidoneus’ magic doesn’t compare to what I can do. Not when I’m strengthened with every life I take. And with your light to shield us, your fire to fight for us . . . not one nation in all the world could stand against Doria.”

A laugh that was a half-sob ripped from my throat. “If Varian wins me, he will take my power. They have built an entire ship meant to cage me, so Varian can take what he will. Why ask for my help when I have never had a choice?”

Her pale eyes were frigid. I could feel it then. What she’d hidden for so long with her distant, emotionless mask—hate rolled down the bridge between our minds like an earthquake. “Varian cares for you,” she growled. “He has his own plans. Ones the Emperor knows nothing of. But if they are to work . . . Well, you must act alongside us willingly.”

“Plans . . . What do you know of Varian’s plans?”

Another hateful smile. “More than you. And after he saw his father’s . . . transformation, he came to me. Asked for my help. Wanted me to ensure that you remain his.”

A frigid trickle of fear ran through my blood. It was terrible enough to imagine Elysa and the Emperor working together. But Varian? Something within me shattered. I swallowed against the lump of emotion clogging my throat. “And why would you do that? You want him for yourself.”

“I told you earlier. Just because you are his, that doesn’t make him yours.”

“Is this why you left that ribbon in my book?” I asked. “You marked the exact page that explained your mother’s three forms. You left me a breadcrumb trail leading right to this moment. And in the hall below . . . you knew I was there, didn’t you? You wanted me to hear everything. To see what you did to Aphaea. Why? If you want me to fight beside you, then why show me what a monster you’ve turned yourself into?”

Red lips widened in an amused grin, but she shrugged. “You know, I wondered how you would choose. I honestly thought you’d pick Aphaea. She was your friend, after all. She could have conceived another child. But I suppose I should have known.” She looked down at the baby nestled in my arms, warm beneath my shield. “You’ve always had a soft spot for weak things. Like does call to like, after all.”

The hair on the nape of my neck stood up, disgust flowing through me, bile rising to the back of my throat. “Yes, you like to remind me that you think me weak. You wanted to test me, didn’t you? You needed to know that I was strong enough to break through. Strong enough to save them.” I knew the truth of the words as soon as they were spoken. “But I couldn’t have saved Aphaea . . .”

“Couldn’t you have?” she said, voice falsely sweet.

Like a kick to the gut, my lungs emptied of air. I could have saved her. I could have saved them both if I’d discovered the barrier within me sooner.

“Yes,” she purred as she watched the horror of that realization spread across my face. “A bitter truth, isn’t it?” She circled me then, steps slow and casual as if we were just having a friendly chat. “You know, after the first sacrifice on Nemoralia, I freed the Maiden. Wild, though she may be, she came to me easily enough. I absorbed Leda’s strength. My magic grew and so did my connection with you and Solara. I can sense where you are, how you feel.” She laughed. “I knew the moment you set foot in the temple tonight. And I know you healed Aidoneus, though how he tricked my senses with his lie, I still don’t understand.”

She crept closer, a hand toying with a loose tendril of my hair as she came again to stand before me. A hand’s breadth separated her from the light surrounding the baby. It cast her severe features with a soft, golden glow. She studied me, head tilted to the side as if I were some riddle she couldn’t quite solve. “You have feelings for him,” she finally said, the mark on her brow distorted as it wrinkled in thought. Through the bond, I felt her searching, weighing. Then her smile widened. Shocked pleasure lit her eyes. “You are in love with him! Oh, I can’t wait until Varian learns that juicy little secret.”

I opened my mouth, a flood of denial racing to my tongue. But then I tasted her words. As pure and crisp as a fresh snowfall. My arms tightened around the baby. If only to hold on to something. To keep me from examining that truth and all it meant too closely.

Elysa turned away. She raised a beckoning hand to the shadows. The shuffle of feet sounded and a black-clad woman, a priestess, stepped into the small sphere of light illuminated by Selene’s magic. “Really, sister,” she said, turning back to me, “I’ve hardly had to lift a finger to come between Varian and you. But your dalliance with Aidoneus has caused other problems . . . You see, I knew doubt about the Myridian’s guilt would fester after the Emperor’s sudden . . . good health was revealed. Sibyl’s face when she saw him . . . too many questions were planted in her frazzled little brain. And now her favorite Korai, such a good girl . . . Well, perfect Aurora can’t be wrong about the Myridian, can she?” Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “But Sibyl isn’t stupid. She knows she’s pushed as far as the Emperor will allow. Soon, the Myridian will be dead and we can move forward with one less obstacle in our path.

“But that still leaves one small question . . .” Her eyes flashed. “Now that the Maiden and the Crone are bound to me, now that Leda and Aphaea’s powers strengthen me . . . are you still the most powerful Korai?”

I straightened my shoulders and focused on holding my shield strong. “I’m taking her to someone who can care for her. Let us leave. You owe this child that and a thousand times more.”

She sighed, throwing her silvered head back in a dramatic display of exasperation. This emotion . . . this theater . . . I shuddered. This was a side to Elysa I’d never seen. She rolled her eyes and gestured to the nervous, hovering priestess. “I already told you, I care nothing about the baby. She’ll take it. Harming that weak human thing further is a waste of energy.”

I poured more power into the warm glow that surrounded the baby. “It? She is an innocent child. And she has a name.” I surprised myself when the words passed my lips, but I knew them for truth. “Hestia. For the goddess her mother served.”

Elysa’s thin nose wrinkled, but her follower rushed forward with open arms.

I backed away a step, hugging Hestia close to my chest. The priestess stopped, looking up at me with a pale, frightened face. Her hazel eyes were lined with unshed tears. I looked her over—from the worn sandals peeking out beneath her ill-fitting black robe to her olive complexion and dark, curling hair. Not a Dorian, but a Nysian. Few Nysians worshiped Selene, most revering Helios or their own southern gods. The gods only knew what threats had brought her here.

Elysa hissed behind her, “Unless you want harm to come to the brat, I suggest you hand it over.”

Trembling hands reached towards me. “I’ll see her safe, my lady. On my life, I’ll see her safe.”

She meant every word.

Frost prickled my back. The creeping shadows pressed close, gathered at the edge of the light, waiting for their mistress’ call.

I looked down at the baby, restlessly turning in her sleep. “I know the body—how to heal it and how best to hurt it. Whatever threats my sister has offered will seem a kindness in comparison to what I will do if this child is harmed.”

Her olive face was pale as chalk, her lips bloodless, yet she was steady.

“Last chance, sister,” Elysa crooned.

I handed Hestia over and watched as the priestess hastened towards the temple doors.

As soon as they were gone, Elysa extinguished the false moonbeam. The room plunged into darkness.

Elysa chuckled, the sound low and dangerous—the call of night’s predators emerging to feed. A cold shiver ran down my spine. “Come now,” she said. “It’s just you and I and neither of us are caged by the priestesses’ spells. Show me what you can do.”

“What’s the point of this, Elysa?” I asked, voice shaking. “To prove your worth? I don’t want to fight you. Even after everything . . .” I swallowed, emotion-welling and heartbreaking. “Sister, it isn’t too late to stop this.”

Invisible in the darkness, her magic struck. A shard of darkness hit me in the shoulder with enough force to knock me to a knee and numb my arm.

I gritted my teeth and stood, pulling deep from within for my magic, but the shadows pressed in around me. I struggled to reach my light. In this darkness, pulling up my power was like trudging through quicksand.

A cackle in the gloom. “And they say you are the strongest Korai in centuries! Look at you now, struggling to cast even a tiny flicker.”

Another whip-like crack of pain across my back. I cried out and fell, hands braced on the hard marble floor. I struggled to my feet, the coppery tang of blood in my mouth.

“Show me what you can do! Show me what you found beneath the barrier!”

I took a steadying breath and reached for my magic. This time, it came when called. My hands glowed, rosy and incandescent, bathing me in warmth.

She stood before me, motionless, a strange look on her thin face. She stared at my light, brow furrowed as if in pain.

“Elysa—”

Her eyes cut to mine and the pained look was gone in a flash. She stepped to the side, circling me in a bizarre, sliding walk. Darkness rose in an oily cloud around my ankles, pulling at my gown, scraping against my skin.

I delved deep, gathering what little power I could.

Suddenly, Elysa scampered towards me, her movements disjointed and unnaturally quick. I raised my still-glowing hands between us, bracing for the blow, knowing the small flare would do little to protect me. I closed my eyes.

A hiss sounded in the darkness. With a shaking breath, I opened my eyes. Elysa stood only a step away. Deeply etched lines crossed her face, aging her so she no longer seemed a maiden of eighteen years. This . . . this was the face of a crone.

Fear licked at my spine, but the way she stood so still, only watching me . . . “She doesn’t like my light. The Crone fears it, doesn’t she?”

She tilted her head to the side. When she spoke, it was not in Elysa’s voice. This one was ancient, cracked, and unhinged. “We go to war, fiery godling. Join us or we’ll bleed you with the rest of them.”

She took a step closer, and the shadows closed in with her. I poured more power into my hands until my knees quaked.

The Crone fell back, an arm lifting to shield her face. “Stop it, foul Watcher! Stop it now!”

I kept my hands up, even as my brow furrowed at her words. “What did you call me?”

She slid to the side. I followed. “Dreadful dawn,” she moaned. “Burning, searing, stinging.”

I gathered more magic, ignoring the warm drip that ran from my nose to my chin. Each step she took away, I followed, the darkness retreating from the glow, not of Helios’ flame, but of Eos’ healing light.

Blood flowed from the other nostril.

The Crone screamed.

I delved deep, deep, deep, ignoring the pain in my body and the pounding in my temples as I gathered every drop of magic within reach. My incandescence spread, pulsing outward with a golden, healing heat.

“Stop!” she repeated, folding in on herself.

Another step forward. She turned to me with hollow, feral eyes.

Darkness rushed in on all sides. I lifted my hands higher. A drop of hot blood ran from my chin and landed on my breast.

Her nostrils flared, eyes going wild at the scent. The Crone rushed forward in a whirlwind of shadows.

And when my hands touched Elysa, she was thrown through the air. With a sharp thud, she landed in a heap of white-blonde hair and black fabric.

I stood, shaken and bloodied and utterly confused. I looked from my hands—a remnant of light still bathing my fingers in a rosy, dim glow—to Elysa, where she lay still on the marble, unmoving. I’d conjured no flames, too weak to pull it from the Ether. The only magic I’d been strong enough to wield was the one inherent in my own bloodline—healing.

My legs trembling, the floor shifting drunkenly beneath my feet, I moved towards my sister. “Elysa?” I asked, tongue thick. I swallowed. “Elysa?”

My light dimmed, fading into the Ether, but the barest glow of the coming dawn filtered through the oculus high above. I knelt, hesitating for only a heartbeat before I moved the hair out of her face. Her pale cheek was mottled with fresh, angry red burns. “No,” I breathed. “That’s not possible.” And it shouldn’t have been. My light could be painful as it healed, but it had never burned anyone.

I reached beneath her, turning her to get a better look.

She screamed, wild and enraged, the sound so sharp it could cut.

“Elys—”

She lunged. Hands curled into sharp-nailed claws as she grabbed my throat.

My head hit the marble floor, and the world went black.