The Panagea Tales Box Set

by McKenzie Austin

  Studying her, the captain closed the door to the cabins and planted his feet. “Then you know why we’re on route to Northwestern, despite your previous threats.”

  Turning from Kazuaki, the goddess’s flowing dress whipped at her feet from the gales. Naphine gazed into the blackness around them, the covered lanterns flanking the ship’s sides illuminating the side of her face. “If what Kekona claims is true, and Nicholai is truly out to eliminate the Chronometers, then his purpose holds more precedence than my pain.”

  Watching as she distanced herself, Kazuaki felt his frustration mounting. He had just endured relentless hours of listening to Nico grapple with his emotions. Did fate really need to throw Naphine’s at him too?

  Seeing her there though, looking surprisingly vulnerable against the image of strength he knew the Goddess of Love to be, he found himself sighing. If any chance she could help Bermuda existed, yes, he wanted to earn her favor, and he could not deny that her daughter played the biggest role in sparing him the nightmare that would have been losing her forever. He never got the chance to thank Umbriel. Perhaps her mother was the next best thing. “Your daughter,” he started, easing himself into the discomfort his statement brought, “she was a good person. I owe her a debt of gratitude.”

  “Yes.” Naphine wrapped her arms tighter around her torso as she faced Kazuaki. “You do. I do not doubt she would have made the same decision over again if given the chance. Even as a child, her heart was limitless.” Her eyes glazed over when she recognized what little of Umbriel’s youth she could recall. “Even as the Goddess of Love, it was unlike anything I had ever seen.”

  A muscle ticked in Kazuaki’s jaw. “I’ll never understand her kindness for myself.” He settled into his position. “But I appreciated it. If I could have done anything for her, I would have.”

  At the moment, a wistful smile stole over Naphine’s lips. “I was jealous of her capacity to love. I always thought it should have been me. I should have been the one who was able to love that endlessly and fully.” Her eyes returned their sharpness, and she flicked a gaze toward Kazuaki. “But mankind’s limitations could not imagine me that way. They only envisioned a goddess who could turn the hearts of hesitant people. They got precisely what they wanted.”

  “They don’t know what they want,” Kazuaki mumbled, trying once more to forget the prayers that repeated through his mind. “They only know they want someone else to give it to them.”

  “Hmm.” Naphine nodded, her hair billowing around her. “I tried my best to understand them. I even took a lover for myself—Umbriel’s father.” Her expression dimmed at the memory. “He was not perfect for me, but he was perfect for her.” When the time spent wallowing in grief became too much for her to bear, Naphine cleared her throat and cast an accusing gaze to the God of Salvation. “Why don’t you answer their prayers?”

  The sudden shift in conversation came as a surprise, but Kazuaki found himself grateful for it. Grieving women were difficult minefields to weed through. “I’m a little preoccupied with more important things.”

  Naphine’s features hardened as her chin rose. “My daughter loved Panagea, Mr. Hidataka. She loved its people.”

  “I’m aware.” Kazuaki’s eye narrowed in skepticism. Where was Naphine going with this? “Enough that she was willing to die for one.”

  “For one, no.” The goddess stepped toward the cabin walls and leaned her body against it. Her head craned in Kazuaki’s direction. “Can I ask you something? What would you have done”—one of her bare feet slid to rest against her ankle—“if your lover had died, instead of my daughter?”

  The inquiry made him think. It didn’t take long before he arrived at his answer. Having just come off his insanity with Mimir, he would have been susceptible to explode. Had Bermuda been sent to her grave, he would have blamed the gods. He would have blamed the world. Then, during an intense period of mourning, filled with the fresh power of prayer given to him by most of the Southern division, he would have burned Panagea to the ground. Kazuaki frowned at the thought. “I think you know what I would have done.”

  “Yes.” A sliver of light caught Naphine’s eyes, highlighting the significance of her words. “I think my daughter knew too.”

  So that was it. Kazuaki’s face became emotionless, and he looked away. Umbriel’s last sacrifice was not just to save Bermuda’s life. It was to save everyone who would have fallen onto the trail of his inevitable warpath. Was he really that predictable? The captain’s face twisted at the realization.

  Yes. Of course, he was.

  “You said if you could have done anything for her, you would have.” Naphine pushed herself off the wall she leaned against and approached Kazuaki. “If you truly want to honor my daughter, you’ll answer their prayers. You’ll do what you can, for the people she loved.”

  The comment triggered a classic response. Kazuaki scoffed, unable to stop himself from narrowing his eye. “A funny statement coming from a woman who led countless people to their deaths not too long ago.”

  If Kazuaki’s words had any effect on Naphine, her face did not show it. “They needed to know they did wrong, lest they be doomed to repeat it. We needed to take away the only thing they ever loved more than us—themselves.” The statement came out strong at first but lost some of its potency at the end. “Even so, I’m sure you’ll come to learn sooner or later, the same as I have.” She started to walk away from him, toward the airship’s bow, though her words called back to him. “Even the gods are not perfect.”

  She wished it hadn’t taken the death of her only daughter to come to that realization.

  Kazuaki watched her saunter away and squared his shoulders. “Does this mean you’ll allow us safe entry into Northwestern?” he called back, knowing she was on the verge of vanishing.

  “I will do nothing to stop you from entering.” Naphine turned as strands of hair molded to her face with the wind. “But it is not my favor you have to earn if you wish to find Vadim.”

  The captain’s jaw clenched. He didn’t know why, but an ill feeling slithered through his stomach and into his chest. “Whose is it?”

  Naphine’s arms outstretched at her sides as she prepared to transport herself elsewhere. When her gaze found Kazuaki’s for the last time, her full lips parted in two. “The one who holds the reins over Vadim Canmore’s mind—the goddess, Havidite.”

  Nothingness stood where Naphine once did. In the time it took Kazuaki to blink, she was gone. The captain collapsed his back against the wall, revisiting every unpleasant encounter with the goddess he’d had.

  Havidite. The Goddess of Harvest. The one who set the precedent for the lesser gods’ return when she convinced Jodathyn Breed to sacrifice himself for the growth of his crops. The one who took control over Northwestern. The one who tried to take control over Southern, at the lead of the invasion in Seacaster. The one Nicholai tried to strangle with his Chronometer when she launched an arrow into Umbriel’s body. The last goddess he saw Bermuda trying to kill during her reign of terror as the Steel Serpent.

  Havidite. He’d have to tread extra cautiously. That bitch would have watered her flowers with blood, if she could.

  Chapter Twelve

  Nicholai threw his arm over his shrinking pupils as soon as he stepped foot outside his cabin. The light—gods, the horrible, horrible light—felt as if it had grabbed his throbbing brain and pulled it apart from the inside then kicked dirt over what few fragments remained.

  Following the sounds of fast-falling feet, he dragged his exhausted body to the main deck. Judging by the countless trees and craggy purple mountains he saw surrounding the stationary airship, they were already into the heart of Northwestern and had found a landing spot. Why, then, did the ground still feel as if it was moving beneath him?

  Sliding his hands down his face, Nicholai watched with pulled eyelids as Brack passed, scratching feverishly at his exposed calves. Raised red bumps spattered his legs with a rosy ring of irritation.


  “Gah!” Brack hobbled along, scratching while he maneuvered his hunched body toward Granite. “I think one of your girlfriend’s plants gave me a rash.”

  Unaffected, Granite fastened a satchel of various knives and guns to his back. “You should be used to getting rashes from women by now.”

  Brack blinked, taken aback. A moment later, a huge grin split across his face. He stopped scratching long enough to swat Granite in the stomach. “Oh-ho! Good one, mate!”

  Closing one eye to help block as much of the sun as he could, Nicholai strode past the two men and came up alongside Revi. “So …” He cleared his throat when he heard the horrid roughness that clung to his voice. “You actually saw Vadim while you were here?”

  Revi nodded, drawing away from the ship’s wheel. “Fecker is living in the woods, like a gods-damned animal,” he muttered, stopping himself when he caught sight of Nicholai’s expression. Right. Emont. Revi coughed into his hand. “Sorry. You know what I mean.”

  “It’s all right,” Nicholai replied with a short, exonerating smile. He rubbed the back of his neck, surprised to have earned an apology from Revi at all. “I must make peace with it anyway. If I don’t, I’m afraid Kazuaki may make me drink again.”

  Revi clapped him on the back before he grabbed additional supplies. “Just be happy you walked away with your liver intact.”

  Managing the longevity of his smile, Nicholai nodded. Truth be told, for as awful as his headache was and for as nauseated as his stomach felt, he did feel admittedly lighter. The man only recalled glimpses—bits and pieces of what had happened last night. Somehow, through the heft of the liquor that had infiltrated his veins, Kazuaki had gotten through to him. Taking the clemency with the mad pounding of his temples, he took several steps to stay at Revi’s side. “When you saw him … Vadim. His mind, was it …?”

  “There?” Revi looked up, straightening his posture as he threw the bag over his shoulder. “That’s debatable. You’ll understand when you see him.” Eager to reach the ground again, he rushed, grabbing everything he thought he might need. “He’s human,” he called back to Nicholai, unwilling to leave him in limbo. “More human than Emont anyway. But he’s definitely not the Vadim Canmore from the history books.”

  Bursting through the cabin door, Kazuaki strode to the center of the deck. A brief glance told him that the crew was ready, and he raised his voice to carry it to everyone’s ears. “All hands on deck!”

  The order congregated each member, including Nicholai. They circled the captain, all eyes upon him.

  “What’s the plan when we get down there?” Bermuda asked, giving volume to the one inquiry on everyone’s minds.

  Kazuaki stared at her, his muscles growing rigid. Shit. This was the moment he had wished to avoid throughout the entirety of yesterday. Time had finally caught up with him. “Penn will stay with the ship,” he announced, surprising no one. Running his tongue over his lips, he summoned a breath into his lungs. “Given what happened in Southwestern, I think a few others should stay with him.”

  Though he still felt the sting of the viper bite in his leg, Penn huffed. “I’m fine, Captain.”

  “Belay that,” Kazuaki barked, earning the cook’s silence. “You were hours from death.” His gaze drifted toward Bermuda, beholding the sight of her. “Nobody will die on my watch.”

  The way he looked at her made Bermuda’s eyes narrow to slits. The intensity in his gaze was discernible. She knew what he would say before he said it, but she forced him to give life to it anyway. “Who’s staying?” she asked, a tinge of aggression already lining her words.

  Kazuaki flinched. He attempted to recover his composure before continuing. “Last night, I received word from Naphine that Havidite is the one in charge of Vadim’s mind. Given your last encounter with her—with all the gods down there—if we want to earn their favor, the best tactic rests in you staying with Penn.”

  Bermuda scowled. The storm that infiltrated her eyes made all other gales at sea look like light rain. “That’s shit, Kazuaki, and you know it. This has nothing to do with earning favor. You think I’m a liability. At risk for death.”

  “You are. We all are. This is about strategy, Bermuda, and nothing else.”

  She put her hand on her chest and stepped forward. “I’m human. They can’t even kill me directly. If any of us should stay behind because of danger to their existence, it’s you. There’s no short supply of deities down there who could run you through with a weapon from the gods’ realm.”

  She was sensitive to the subject. He knew it; he recognized it. That didn’t make addressing it any less of a minefield to navigate. “This isn’t about—” What did he say? Her weakened condition? Her fragility? Kazuaki shook his head. “I’ll be fine. I still have the spear from Kekona.”

  “My ass,” Bermuda hissed, now only a foot from his face. “You’ve relied too long on your immortality. You’re so used to living through everything, you don’t even try to avoid being hit anymore.” She leaned forward, poking him in the chest. “Your offense may be unprecedented, but your defense is weak. You need someone who can—”

  Kazuaki reached forward, cupping her face with both hands. “Bermuda …”

  “Don’t,” she growled, shoving away from his touch. “I’m going with you.”

  The captain closed his eye, only for a moment—one second of reprieve from seeing the hurt in her face. When he opened it again to behold the sight of her, he steeled his normally unshakable nerves. “You’re staying. That’s an order.”

  Each crewmember found somewhere else to rest their gazes. Feet shuffled uncomfortably on the deck, as one by one they backed away.

  Bermuda stared at him, her wide eyes filled with equal parts shock and disbelief. “You wouldn’t,” she whispered.

  It killed him to say it. It gutted him from one end of his body to the other. But not as much as it would have destroyed him if Havidite discovered a way to extinguish her. Creative gods and goddesses still found clever ways to kill human beings. The clustered bodies in cemeteries across Panagea proved as much. “You know I’d rather not have anyone else fighting at my side,” he said, lowering his voice as he stepped toward her. “You’re one of the best, without a doubt, but a good captain has to make the decisions that will lead to the cleanest victory for everyone. Those decisions aren’t always easy to make.” He wanted to reach out to her—touch her, comfort her—but he knew better. The last thing she would want, after hearing his final statement, would be physical contact with him. “Even … with everything else that we are, I’m still your captain. You’re staying with Penn.”

  For him to perceive her as weak was a punch in the gut. Bermuda pinched her lips together, glaring at the man she loved. Heat rose from her as she slowly shook her head. “Feck you, Kazuaki Hidataka.” Her shoulder collided with his as she stormed toward the cabins.

  Kazuaki closed his eye and held his breath. That look on her face would haunt him for as long as he walked this sorry landmass. Hearing the door slam in the distance was the signal he was waiting for. He released the tension in his shoulders and came to terms with his reality.

  Rennington approached, patting Kazuaki’s shoulder. “It was the right call, Cap. They do not like her down there.”

  Kazuaki harrumphed a reply. He did not like leaving her up here. He didn’t like leaving any of them on the ship. The gods probably already knew they were here, being the damned perceptive lot that they were. He did not doubt the integrity of his decision. Multiple warnings from multiple gods told him that bringing Bermuda to Northwestern’s ground floor was a fool’s move, and he saw the truth in that.

  If only she saw it too.

  Nicholai scooted over, trying to form a comforting smile. “Don’t worry, Kazuaki. You know they can’t physically hurt her. They can only harm her if she has any mental or emotional instabilities that they—that they … can … exploit …” His face twisted as he realized the state in which she had stormed off almost certainly left
her more vulnerable to mental manipulation than before.

  “Let’s just get this over with,” Kazuaki grumbled, pushing through Nicholai and heading toward the ropes that dangled over the ship’s side. “Granite. Elowyn. You’re staying too. You can’t do much on the ground anyway.”

  Elowyn arched a brow and thumbed toward the former Time Father. “The feck is Nico going to do?” When she saw the affront on his face, she shrugged. “No offense.”

  “We’ll need him to vocalize the relinquishing of the Chronometer back to the gods,” Kazuaki muttered, uncertain if any human could gift it back to the deities or if it needed to be a Time Father. “Naturally, I would have taken you, Elowyn, but I’d prefer to have a medical professional on deck, if you catch my drift.”

  The woman pursed her lips. Yes. Bermuda. He must have known on some level that Elowyn had been supplying her with medicine to keep her pain at bay. She nodded. “I understand, Captain. Best of luck to you all down there.”

  Granite, Penn, and Elowyn watched as the others clamored down the ropes.

  As soon as Revi’s feet hit the ground, he scanned the horizons. Of course, he did not expect to see Avigail waiting for him, arms outstretched beside a towering tree, but, after the year he had spent cutting through the rugged terrain, filling each second with endless searching, he had hoped perhaps fate might cut him some slack.

  It didn’t.

  Revi squinted as he looked around. “The landscape has changed so much already.” It didn’t feel like he had been gone that long, but the trees were already exponentially taller. Fuller. It threw off his bearings as he walked deeper into the woodlands. “I can’t say for certain, since all these damn things look the same”—he gestured to the looming trunks that surrounded them—“but I know we’re close. We have to be within a few miles of where I last saw him, give or take.”

  “We only need to be within the vicinity anyway,” Kazuaki replied, trudging through the dense forest to create distance. “Let’s get as far away from the airship as we can before we summon Havidite.”