Sacrifice (38 page)

There was no doubt in Skybright’s mind that they had been summoned back to where the Immortals dwelled. She was overwhelmed by potent scents that made the mortal realm pale and wanting by comparison. The half-moon was radiant on the horizon, and Skybright had never seen so many stars, silver and white, blue and red. They glowed liked jewels in the sky. Vibrant flowers surrounded them, and she glimpsed orchids and peonies glimmering in the darkness. In the distance, there were peach trees laden with fruit, their sweet ripeness carrying over on a soft breeze.

The goddess was draped on a stone step leading into a magnificent pagoda, as nonchalant as any maiden, but her omnipotence exuded from her, impossible to ignore. Skybright bowed to the regal woman. “Thank you, goddess, for healing me.”

“It was a terrible wound,” the goddess said. “You would not have died from it, being half-demonic, but you would have suffered.” The goddess floated to her feet and expanded, stretching to twice any mortal’s height; she towered over Skybright and Stone. “I am pleased that you closed the breach.” Her voice reverberated through the quiet garden. “You have kept your promise, Stone, and done well.”

Stone bowed this time, graceful and measured, despite his unkempt appearance. “Thank you, goddess.”

The lady lifted one hand, slender fingers pointed toward the infinite sky. “I will grant you your immortality back, Stone, lift you to your previous status.” She turned her wrist elegantly, and Skybright trembled at the vitality that radiated from her, that coalesced in the air around her. The goddess made the magic that Kai Sen and Stone wielded appear like child’s play.

“No,” Stone said.

Pausing mid-motion, the goddess’s perfect mouth curled into a mysterious smile. She appeared as a statue hewn by the masters, glowing like a star herself. “No?” The force of that one word swept over Skybright and Stone, and they both staggered back.

Stone dropped to his knees and bowed his head. “No, goddess. I have decided not to reclaim my former role as intermediary between the realms.”

“You believe you have a choice?” the goddess asked.

Stone pressed his brow against the ground, not replying.

Shocked, Skybright stared at his still form. What was Stone thinking, to reject the far-reaching powers he used to have, to reject
immortality
?

“Apologies, my lady. I am presumptuous and overstep my bounds,” Stone murmured, “But if I were given a choice—”

“Why?” The goddess’s all-encompassing voice spiraled into the air, but its resonance did not force them back this time.

Stone remained silent for a long moment, long enough that Skybright’s chest tightened with anxiety.

“Because I have not felt in so long, goddess,” he finally said. “Because I had not truly
cared
for too many years. At my most powerful, I was above it all, the pain, the jealousy, the hate, all the human foibles—” He paused. “But I was also set apart from the joy and wonder and love. Nothing ever truly touched my heart. My magic and status made me arrogant and careless.” Stone lifted his head, and his eyes shone. “Now I know what it is to feel again.”

The goddess’s hand dropped, a lithe motion that was both beautiful and terrifying. Skybright knew she could grant wondrous gifts and unimaginable punishments with a flick of her fingertips. “A touching speech, Stone.” She glided in front of them, back and forth, her dress aglow and shifting in a myriad of colors. “What say you, little one?”

Skybright blinked, never expecting the attention to turn to her. “Stone fought well and bravely.” She did not go so far as to tell the goddess what she should do.

“And you? Did you fight well?” The goddess paused and turned her full gaze on Skybright. A hint of a smile curved the corners of her perfect mouth. Her black eyes were fathomless.

“Yes, lady.” Skybright dipped her chin in reverence to the goddess. “I did.”

The Goddess of Accord constricted in size until she was the same height as a mortal woman and cupped Skybright’s cheek for a moment, her touch as ephemeral as morning dew. “Your mother would be proud.”

“My … my mother?” It was the last thing she anticipated the goddess would say, and she almost slithered away from her. But she felt a spike of agitation from Stone, enough warning that Skybright held still. “You knew my mother?”

The goddess’s beautiful features began blurring, like an image underwater, until she took on another face. It was like looking into a mirror; Skybright was an exact likeness of her mother. “Your mother was a solitary creature,” the goddess said. “She had never associated with the gods, keeping to herself, though she did help during the Great Battles, working with Stone.” Crisp chirping began to fill the gardens, and the skies above were taking on a golden pink hue. “But Opal beseeched the gods one day, and I answered her call.”

Stone had risen and moved to stand behind Skybright. She wanted to reach out and grab his hand because she suddenly felt very frightened and alone, face-to-face with the image of her dead mother. Stone, as if sensing her unease, drew even closer. It helped.

“I summoned her here to The Mountain of Heavenly Peace, and she told me that she had grown weary. She had lived for more than a thousand years in the mortal realm and was able to see into the hearts of men and glimpse their sins. Opal exacted revenge and killed these men when she thought fitting, but she was … tired.” The goddess gazed into Skybright’s eyes with Opal’s face, and it felt as if her own mother was reading her very soul, extracting each secret, shame, and desire. “She had been alone for so long. She asked me, ‘Could you give me a child? Could I have a daughter?’”

A knot rose to Skybright’s throat, as the goddess’s compelling voice had changed when she spoke those questions—and she knew that she was hearing Opal’s own voice, dulcet and lilting. She must have sung so beautifully.

“Demons are not made to bear offspring, I told her. I can bestow upon you a daughter,” the goddess paused, “but it would cost you your life.”

Skybright gasped, and she felt Stone’s hand clasp her shoulder.

“I am willing,” Opal said. “But grant me one wish. Let my daughter see the
good
in people. Let her see the light too and not only the sins.”

The goddess’s face blurred again, changing back to features as remote and perfect as a statue’s. “I gave Opal her wish.”

Skybright pressed her face in her hands, but no tears came. Stone’s touch was a comfort, but she could also feel his bewilderment and shock at the goddess’s revelation.

“I made you in the exact image of Opal, but half-mortal, so you could live within and understand both worlds, Skybright,” the goddess said. “You have a soul that your mother lacked. You are a child of both realms, the mortal and the divine.”

She felt the blood roaring in her ears and her heartbeat racing. Opal had given up her own life so Skybright could have hers, for reasons she might never fully understand. “Let me take Stone’s place,” she said. “Let me be the new intermediary.”

Stone’s hand tightened on her shoulder, and she slid away from him, distancing herself. Would he betray her? Say that she was wrong for the role, that she intended to thwart the covenant? The skies were awash in the brilliant colors of dawn, but more vivid and sublime, as they would be where the gods dwelled. Skybright felt the garden erupt into life with the rising sun, small creatures scurrying from their burrows, the butterflies taking flight, and all the birds beginning their morning in lively song and animated conversations. It seemed that her fate hung by a delicate cobweb.

The Goddess of Accord arched one raven brow. “You wish to be fully immortal?”

“No,” Skybright replied. “If you grant me the power to travel between the underworld and the mortal, it would be enough.”

“Why do you want this, little one?” the goddess asked.

Skybright swallowed, steadying herself, before saying, “For exactly all the things you said. I am of both worlds and would make an ideal intermediary.” She was grateful for her demonic, inflectionless voice. It gave nothing away.

The goddess was silent for some time, shimmering and aloof, scrutinizing Skybright with her piercing gaze. Skybright tried to shield everything that was in her heart, but feared that in any moment, she would fall to the ground, blathering all her secret intentions.

“Very well,” the Goddess of Accord replied. “You can help oversee the covenant between the mortals and gods.” She turned to Stone. “I will allow you to keep the small magic that you have, and you can accompany Skybright …”

Stone bowed his head, and Skybright followed, relieved beyond measure.

“If she desires it,” the goddess finished. “You have the ability to travel where you wish now, Skybright, and create portals as Stone was able to.” Her image began to dissipate, whorling like mist. “We are done here,” she said and was gone.

The goddess’s sudden exit left a void. It felt as if the magnificent dawn had dimmed and the morning blooms retracted in her absence. Skybright and Stone stood in silence for some time, both trying to comprehend the consequences of what had taken place.

“So,” Stone finally said in a hoarse voice. “Do you truly want the role?”

“I do,” she replied.

She believed Stone knew her motives—he was smart enough to guess—but his questions were left unspoken. Relieved, she slithered to him. She couldn’t be certain if he would keep her secret after thousands of years of ensuring that each Great Battle took place as was agreed upon by the covenant. Skybright had feared that Stone might argue against her taking the role or told the goddess what he suspected.

Weariness seeped from Stone. Skybright felt as refreshed as if she had slept for days, yet he had not received the goddess’s attention or care. She touched his wrist, then gripped it when his exhaustion washed over her. “Thank you, Stone.”

They were eye level, and he studied her as she breathed in his familiar scent: tilled earth mingled with the sharp tang of lemon. It was such a comfort to her now, and she couldn’t say why. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in the hollow of his neck. He stiffened, but their embrace seemed to steady him. Skybright wanted to cry, but she closed her eyes and took refuge in feeling his arms around her.

“I’m sorry, Skybright,” he said.

She had never told Kai Sen that she loved him, had always held back, and then ended things because she was half-demonic, knowing he could never fully accept her as she was. Still, if she searched deep down, if she allowed herself to unlock all the boxes she’d hidden away in those dark recesses, the truth would be blindingly obvious. She
had
loved Kai Sen, even when she knew it was foolish, even when she knew that it would never last. She had loved him, and she never told him. And now, it was too late.

Skybright swiped her eyes against Stone’s dusty tunic, even though no tears came. She pushed on her serpentine coil, drawing closer, when she felt Stone’s growing excitement pressing against her. Then she was aware that she was completely naked, her bare breasts pushed to Stone’s chest, his tunic the only thing keeping them from feeling skin against skin. Desire came with this sudden awareness, slow burning, but insistent. Blood surged through her entire body, and she reared back from him, breathless.

He stood there, dirt smudged and red-faced. “Skybright, I—” he faltered.

She had never seen him so flustered. “You want me,” she said. It sounded like an accusation. She was clutching him again by his wrist, and their desire for each other ricocheted between them, a living, needful thing.

“I can’t help but react, Skybright. I’m tired—”

“Not that tired,” she said pointedly.

He laughed and twisted his wrist from her grasp, rubbing his eyes. “I apologize.”

“You don’t
want
to want me.”

He stilled, holding her gaze until she looked away. “Because I always knew your heart was elsewhere.”

She let out a low breath, her chest aching, but her attraction to Stone was still strumming through her.

“You’re grieving, Skybright,” he said. “I can be a friend to you but not a distraction to be thrown aside.”

She slid away from him, furious that he was so calm, spoke with so much
sense
. She had always been the practical one, but it felt as if she were unraveling. “You were the one who agreed with me once that it was ‘only a kiss.’”

“Well,” he replied in a low voice, “it wouldn’t be just that for me anymore.” His cheeks grew redder. “I
feel
everything now.”

There were words he left unsaid, but she wasn’t in the mindset to hear them, to try and untangle all the thoughts and emotions wound up within her. “Please show me how I can travel with magic.”

“All right,” Stone said. “But how long will you stay in serpent form?”

She did not answer him.