ORIANA

I would have given anything to wake in the dungeons.

Being trapped beneath the earth with Sebastian was one of my fondest memories, a bright spot amidst the bleak greys of my days, overcast by poisoned tonics and the long, eerie shadows cast by ashwood gates. Now I was wrapped in warm furs and silky throws, but I longed for the achingly cold stone and oppressive quiet of the underground. I desperately wanted to reassure myself that everything that happened between us was real; that it wasn't just a cruel, elaborate dream, like the ones that haunted me in my youth, where I'd live a full life only to open my eyes and quietly weep as the weight of my solitude settled in.

Refusing to open my eyes and accept reality without Sebastian, I brought my hand up to my lips, holding myself in the memory of our first kiss. Reliving every frustratingly glorious second of it. I wished furiously — perhaps foolishly — that our mate bond needn't be suppressed, so that I could reach out with my mind and find his. Just to hear his voice. To make sure he was okay.

Guilt flooded through me. There was no need for fantasy; Sebastian was alive and real and for some insane reason he reciprocated all of my feelings. But that didn't matter, either, because he was locked in a dungeon and he needed my help.

My eyes flew open. I clutched my head as I swung up too fast, riding the wave of dizziness with years of practice, placing my weight slightly ahead of where I thought it ought to go. A silk blanket slid from my body, pooling around my ankles, and I paused to regain my bearings.

I hadn't imagined the battle with the Kirin. While my body was healed, my travel clothes were plastered with death and destruction (it was nice to know the wyverns had respected my privacy while I was unconscious). Gore, long gone bad, made even my weak nose wrinkle.

Another pang of guilt assaulted me as I searched the room for a basin or a bath — did I even have time to wash? Sparkling veins of ochre ran through the walls, complimenting the thick, woven rug underfoot. Gretchen would have liked the tapestry, I thought, heading over to what looked like an effigy to Rya's Messenger, a phoenix rumoured to live deep within the Thornwood. A topaz bird sat atop a rock pillar in front of the artwork, surrounded by more of those stumpy, sweet-smelling candles and a curious collection of coloured stones. They were translucent and warmly coloured, like solidified drops of tea.

Maybe it was the oppressive quiet. Maybe it was my desperation and guilt. I felt the urge to kneel before the pedestal, so I did, I clasping my hands and closing my eyes, resting my forehead against the cool stone.

Please make sure my friends are okay, I prayed, though I wasn't sure to who. All three of the Goddesses had proven fickle and cruel, not to mention all too eager to sacrifice me and my friends to get one up on each other. Especially Gretchen. I know we didn't always get along, but she has a noble heart. She only wanted to protect life on this star.

It was harrowing to realise, in retrospect, how many of our petty fights were by the Earth Mother's design. Gaia ruthlessly pitted us against each other, playing on our deep-rooted insecurities, to erode Gretchen's confidence and pave the way for possession. Nya, the Night Goddess, had pulled a similar stunt with Sebastian — albeit long before we met. I could only imagine the horror of becoming a vessel, taking a backseat in one's own life.

You don't have to imagine, a snarky voice commented in the back of my head. Not a Goddess, this time; just my oldest friend, cynicism. You lived that way for years.

Granted, it wasn't quite possession, but the Blood Moon Chief's poisoned tonics made a shell of my body and riddled my mind. And yet...

I would give up my health in a heartbeat if it would guarantee my friends' survival. Give me the power to save them, I demanded of the Gods, tacking on a hasty: Please. Just in case.

As usual, I heard absolutely nothing in return. Rya had been absent for centuries. Nya never deigned to speak to me. Even Gaia, who used to whisper warnings and insidious directions in my ear, had gone silent. I'd served my purpose. I'd brought Her puppet to Her.

Sighing, I used the pedestal to hoist myself up — only to realise it wasn't cemented to the ground, merely perched atop it, like a table. The topaz bird flashed as it toppled and spun through the air, its crystal wings utterly useless, too heavy to take flight.

I lunged, scraping my elbows as I caught it scant inches from the ground. The pain of my shredded skin dissolved as an unexpected bolt of electricity surged up my arms, contorting my spine. I was present for the second in which my muscles began to seize, just long enough to feel a cold lash of fear, and then a vision took hold and I felt nothing at all.

***

Enormous thistles stretched out in every direction, the wood pale and familiar as the walls that stood guard over the Blood Moon village. It was impossible to tell if it was night or day; only the faintest strain of bleak, grey light filtered through the interlocking thorns overhead, large as any tree.

As I turned my head, I caught a faint glimmer in the distance. I took a step towards it, only to suck in a sharp breath as what I mistook for sturdy ground gave way with an echoing splash. The marsh water was unnervingly lukewarm, thick where it splashed up onto my shins, sending up a waft of sulphurous, coppery air.

"Blood," I whispered, only to clap a hand over my mouth. The word travelled for leagues, bouncing off all the impossible angles of this place tenfold, ringing louder with every turn. Black plumage rained down from the canopy as something large took flight in response, every beat of its wings a painfully loud boom of thunder.

Soft, downy feathers settled on the surface, their weight perfectly displaced. I shifted back, disgusted, and the ripples from my movement pulled them down by the edges, tugging on the hollow stems and pulling them under. Soon all that remained were faint bubbles, and then nothing at all.

How many things had this bloody marsh swallowed? How many bodies lay under the surface? I was terrified of moving further lest I hear bones crunch under my feet, or worse, the ground drop away without warning. Would I be able to tread water, or would the viscous liquid suck me down like quicksand? All I knew for sure was that any attempt to climb out would see my hands sliced open by the unnaturally sharp thorns.

But it wasn't just thorns. Every so often, a bright ember glowed amidst the desolate wasteland.

Follow the roses, rasped an ancient, withered voice, like dry leaves scraping along the ground in the wind.

I squinted. A bright glimmer in the distance was suddenly right in front of me, as if I'd moved and lost the memory of it. I knelt down to examine the metallic rose sprouting from one of the thorns, its angular petals clawing at a tiny beam of light filtering down from above.

It was a living, breathing metal that pulsed with light; the spitting image of the Sun Goddess's blood, a cosmic ichor that wept from the cavity in Her chest. Not for the first time, I wondered what had happened to Her heart. Who took it.

Looking up, I found another rose, and another. Splotches of brilliant gold that marked a path through the Thornwood.

Come quickly, that strange voice said again. It seemed to well up from within me. The light wanes, and us with it.

A rush of feathers blocked out the last of the light, belonging to an ungainly crow with talons outstretched. I gasped, throwing up my arms to shield my face, but it shredded through my flesh like butter. Flashes of the last day slipped through my grasp: the journey over the mountain at breakneck speed; the jutting towers of glittering quartz; Sebastian's body sailing over the rampart...

I yanked back with a gasp. The crow's beak, those wickedly curved talons... they were bright as a polished silver buckle, flaring with the light of the stars as it tried to peck out my eyes. One of Nya's servants, I realised, panic twining through my blood, hammered into every inch of my body by my furiously beating heart. But how did it find me in a dream?

I managed to throw it off. The crow caught its balance mid air, flapping furiously as it worked, talons opening again. Acting on instinct, I hurled sunlight at the miserable creature. Its strength peaked, the hooked beak narrowly missing my eye, tearing a line of fire down the bridge of my nose instead. I yelped, grabbing hold of a wing and crushing it, forcing it to pull away with a furious squawk.

Of course, I thought with a gasp. It reflects my power; it grows stronger if I feed it!

There had to be a point, though, when that flow of power became too much. When it overloaded. So I gritted my teeth, grabbed it's slicing talons and poured the burning oil of my soul into its feathered little body.

Gold spread like magma in dribbles and cracks, melting through the crow's silver aura. I could feel the power like an extension of my own body, liquifying its insides and welling up between the feathers. For a split second, the black swallowing the crow's eyes contracted, like an eerily human pupil, revealing a sliver of yellow iris, somehow cold as it burned with malice.

Got you, it thought, with an all-too familiar voice.

Bradon.

The crow combusted, spitting embers and black feathers. The force of the explosion threw me backwards, my back slapping the bloody marsh. It closed over my mouth before I even had time to scream.

Solid rock drove into my back, the impact driving the air from my lungs. My eyes flew open, and I was relieved to find myself back in the cave, gripping the phoenix talisman to my chest so hard it had shattered. Razor edges made a mess of my palms, soiling the pretty pieces of stone.

Blasphemy, I was sure. Another layer of guilt, to settle over the others, as I swept the pieces out of the cuts and rose to my feet like a shaky colt. I tucked the broken fragments of Rya's Messenger into my satchel and slung it over my shoulder, dusting off the tongues of dry, spongey moss that clung to the bottom.

Bradon knew where we were, and he was already coming for us. One of my friends was possessed, the other barley clinging to life, and Sebastian was locked away somewhere in this sweltering prison of glass.

I squeezed my hands into fists, ignoring the shriek of pain.

It was time to save them all.