CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Kalona

Dying was more painful than Kalona had imagined it would be—though during his eons of life, he had rarely imagined it. He had been familiar with death in an abstract sort of way. He had, of course, killed countless times. Some of the killings had been justified; some had not. Since he had left the Otherworld, most of the deaths he had been responsible for had fallen into the latter category.

It was a thing he regretted as he died—those unjust deaths he had caused. That, plus the time he had squandered before he accepted the love of his son as well as the loss of Nyx. Those were his three greatest regrets, though even as he died he could hardly bear to think of the loss of his Goddess.

When he could draw no more breath, his vision began to gray, to blacken—and then, finally, the shards of pain from what remained of his wings dissipated, and the blaze of agony that was his chest slowly cooled. Kalona had only an instant to ready himself for the unimaginable to come, and then everything went black.

“Reach out, Kalona. Take my hand.”

Thanatos’s voice drifted through the blackness that was smothering Kalona. He tried to draw breath. He could not breathe. He tried to open his eyes. He could not see. Kalona’s spirit battered against the walls that entrapped him.

“Kalona! You must take my hand.”

I cannot see your hand!

“You need not see it. Just have faith that it is there. Kalona, take my hand.”

Blindly, Kalona reached. And Thanatos was there! He could not see her, but he could feel her warm, steady hand. With all his might, he held that grip as she pulled. With a whoosh! of light and sound, Kalona’s vision returned. He staggered, but Thanatos held tightly to him.

“All is well, Warrior. You are free of the body that bound you,” Thanatos said.

Kalona glanced down and had the unexpectedly vertigo-like experience of seeing his own battered corpse. His gaze moved quickly away from the body and returned to Thanatos.

I am dead.

“You are.”

I can only see you and feel you because of your affinity.

“Yes and no. You can feel nothing on this realm except my grip that has freed you. You can see others, though they probably cannot see you.” Thanatos gestured around them.

Kalona blinked. His eyesight was strange, as if he were viewing everything except Thanatos through a thick, cloudy lens. He looked around. He could see the tree and the circle. He glanced quickly back at his body, and this time he saw Rephaim, kneeling at his side, weeping brokenly.

Tell him to stop grieving. Tell him I stand here, beside him.

“If that is what you truly wish, I will do so. But you should know that I will only be able to communicate with you for a limited time. Even my gift has limits.”

What am I supposed to do? How do I help him?

“You can no longer help him, or anyone else, on this realm. It is time you moved on.”

Kalona stared at Thanatos. You mean to the Otherworld—to Nyx’s realm.

“Yes.”

Kalona felt some of the panic he’d experienced when he had been trapped in his body return. She banished me. She will not admit me.

“How can you be so certain Nyx will not admit you?”

His mind flailed, remembering what had happened when he’d trespassed and asked her forgiveness. Nyx’s response had been unwavering: “If you are ever worthy of forgiving, you may ask it of me. Not until then … your spirit, as well as your body, is forbidden entrance to my realm.”

I asked it of her. Nyx would not forgive me. She forbade me entrance.

“Had you earned her forgiveness then?”

No, of course I hadn’t! But have I earned it now? How could I possibly atone for the centuries of pain I caused the Goddess and her children because I chose anger and jealousy over trust and love?

“That is a question you must have the courage to pose to our Goddess,” Thanatos said.

What if she refuses to forgive me? What will happen to me?

Thanatos’s eyes suddenly seemed ancient with the knowledge of too much pain, too much suffering. “If Nyx does not allow you entrance to the Otherworld, you will wander the realm on which you died.”

Without being able to be heard or seen? Thanatos nodded. For how long?

“How long is an eternity?”

A terrible shiver went through Kalona, and his gaze returned to his son. Will you know whether Nyx accepts me or not?

“Yes, but I will lose the ability to communicate with you,” she said sadly.

If she rejects me, I will watch over my son.

“He will not know it,” Thanatos said.

He will if you tell him.

“I will do so, if that is your request.”

It is. He met her gaze again. I am ready. What must I do?

“I am all that anchors you to this world right now. Simply release my hand and ascend.”

Thank you, Thanatos. For everything.

“Kalona, I wish eternally for you to blessed be.” As the High Priestess of Death lifted her arm, he released her hand, and his spirit soared up … up …

Kalona was intimately familiar with flying. He’d taken to the skies of this realm as well as the Otherworld. And, if he had the time and inclination, he could recount other realms in which he’d flown, always on the Goddess’s business.

This ascent was like nothing he’d ever before experienced.

At first the blackness was complete, so much so that he could only hope he continued to rise. As he was beginning to despair—to think that Nyx had already judged and found him lacking—the blackness before him rippled, shimmered, and took on an iridescence that reminded him of the color of the sea surrounding the ancient island of Capri.

The topaz sky rippled again, and then, like a curtain, it parted to reveal a round patch of familiar rust-colored ground. Behind the ground were two trees, a hawthorn and a rowan. Kalona recognized them. He and Nyx had often visited the spot—this entrance to her Sacred Grove. Strips of brightly colored cloth were knotted together within the gnarled limbs of the trees, tied there with well-wishes by Nyx, as well as those who passed through the Goddess’s realm. The strips of cloth lifted lazily in the wind, changing colors so that an infinite number of wishes were represented. Behind the wishing tree stretched acres and acres of Nyx’s most sacred land. Kalona knew every path, every tree, every crystal stream and moss-carpeted glen.

Even if he could not be by her side, Kalona longed to walk there again and to have the peace of the grove fill him once more.

His ascent concluded, Kalona stepped onto the rust-colored ground and waited.

Zoey

Kalona was dead! It was unbelievable but undeniable. I’d been standing next to Thanatos, holding the spirit candle, when he’d died—smiling and saying he hadn’t broken his oath.

Rephaim lost it. He was bending over his dad’s body, sobbing so hard it seemed like he was going to shake his body apart. Stevie Rae was behind me, still in the northern position of earth, but I could feel her restlessness. She was going to break the circle and go to Rephaim. I couldn’t blame her. I was just about to blow out my spirit candle and close the circle when Thanatos held out her hand, like she was offering it to Kalona as if he was going to reach up and take it. And I remembered what Thanatos had said as she told me to cast the circle, Zoey, ready your circle. I am going to need its borrowed power …

Thanatos had known Kalona was dying. She needs the circle for him!

“Stevie Rae, you have to stay there,” I said, looking over my shoulder at my BFF, who was bawling her eyes out. “We can’t close the circle. Thanatos needs it, and that means Kalona needs it, too.”