Page 76 of Mortal Things

I’m silent. I don’t know what to say to that. We praise the noble knight in our fairy tales when, in reality, we never reward them. We love the humble servant in our stories, but we do not hold them sacred in life. We teach our children that everyone is beautiful, and yet we laugh at one another, fingers pointing, eager to tear the other person apart.

As if Étienne’s ghost is here, the answer comes to me.

Stories are just lies we tell ourselves.

“The things I’ve seen humanity do, Rose. The pointless deaths. The unspeakable cruelty.” Raven’s voice is quiet now, but it echoes around us. “I’ve had enough. Mortals destined to inflict evil deserve to die before they can do it. No matter if it is preordained. And I am willing to sacrifice anything to make that happen.”

He sounds so much like a mortal in this instance. Perhaps that part of himself didn’t fade completely away, after all. I think of him as Arthur, the young soldier, covered in ash and kneeling on a battlefield. I imagine him making a deal with the goddess of Death, determined to someday seize control of fate itself. I imagine how exhausted he is to have so little control.

In spite of everything, something deep in my heart twists in understanding. Of course he would. How human of him.

Thorn takes another step toward me, a wicked gleam in his gaze. “It is always about power, child. Your god and I simply disagree on the semantics. Or who gets to have it.” He tilts his head at Raven. “So, my friend. How shall we resolve this?”

He’s going to take my soul, I think deliriously, shrinking away from Thorn. Are they going to battle here?

Raven’s eyes look black as night now, so lacking in light that they appear hollow.

And deep in my mind, I feel his command to me.

Take him.

My body seems to move independently of my will. There is a new power in my veins, a different bond to Raven that burns hot and painful. Regent. I have a path to his eternal soul, and he has a path to my mortal energy. To the first light of the universe buried in my soul.

Now that I am his Regent, he can use it. He can use me.

I feel an overwhelming compulsion to act and obey.

Thorn turns at the sight of my movement, and his hand extends, ready to seize my arm.

Except—he doesn’t expect me to lunge at him.

My hand shoots out and grabs his throat.

I have never attacked a god before—the thought is so preposterous that it has never occurred to me. But now, as I do, I wince, wondering what it should feel like, whether my hand will be scorched by his immortality.

Instead, a power inside me bursts open, flooding every single one of my veins. The pain is so sudden that I scream—everything turns white, and for an instant, I can see nothing. I am drowning in light.

The first light of the universe.

I feel it now, the uncoiling of this strength in me, this energy that birthed the universe, this source of power that has been buried inside me since the beginning of everything. It unfurls now at last, as if all I needed was to be linked to the immortal world in order to channel this strength, that the missing piece of the puzzle was becoming a Regent.

Thorn’s face turns pale, his smile vanishing as he realizes what is happening. His eyes widen with shock, stricken, pupils dilated away into nothing. Time seems to slow, stretch, expand, stop.

Then the pain engulfs me wholly, and I cease to think.

I don’t know how I come to. All I know is that when the world returns around me, I’m crouched on my hands and knees, soaked in sweat and tears, and shaking uncontrollably. My skin looks like it’s glowing. Every inch of it hurts, as if I have been scalded by boiling water.

When I tilt my head up, I see Raven standing there, hands folded behind his back, giving me a look of grim approval. And all I can feel is a terrible dread. A sense that something irreversible has ruptured in their immortal world.

When I look around for Thorn, he is nowhere to be seen. There is not a single smear of blood against the floor, nor ash floating in the air.

He is simply gone, ceased to exist.

I have killed a god.

CENTRAL PARK IN Manhattan is, to most residents, a beating heart, a haven of nature embedded in the middle of the greatest city in the world. To Harbingers, it is the New York home of the goddess of Earth, where Willow can often be seen wandering the trails or feeding the pigeons.

And to Laine, it is always a haunting reminder of her birthday, when she and Rose had once sat in the shade on a hot August afternoon and shared an early dinner of desserts, when Rose had gifted her the necklace that would become her Artifact.