Promise of Shadows

by Ireland, Justina

  I prop my elbows on the table, thinking of the one I encountered in the Underworld and its chuffing laughter. I can’t see a creature that massive bending to the whim of anyone, even a god.

  Nanda continues. “Cronus had a deal with the drakans to create a space of emptiness, a boundary between the realms that we now know as the Rift. The boundary was supposed to keep the bright in the highest realm and the dark in the lowest realm. Cronus planned for mankind to be destroyed utterly, since humans cannot live entirely in either of the realms for too long. Mankind needs balance, and that is not something that the Æthereals are good at providing.

  “Cronus, who was indeed an old and crafty god, had overlooked just how many Æthereals loved humans, and vice versa. Even the leader of the drakans had human companions, and it refused to contribute to the annihilation of mortal kind. So the drakans betrayed Cronus and created three realms instead of two, trapping enough of the erebos and æther in the Mortal Realm that mortals would be saved. And then they created portals between the realms that would allow a few chosen ones to travel between the realms.”

  This part of the story I know. “When the humans heard how Cronus wanted to betray them, they forsook him and took up worship of his children instead.”

  Nanda smiles and nods. “And in retaliation Cronus cursed the Mortal Realm with time. That’s why we age here. And it’s why Cass could survive in Tartarus for so long. There’s no time in the Underworld or Æthereal realm.”

  I nod. “Okay, I get that. But how does all that tie in to the Nyx?”

  “For a while humans and vættir were united behind Zeus and Hades to fight Cronus and the rest of the Titans. But once they were defeated, humans began to fight the Æthereals. The Exalteds thought of the Mortal Realm as their playground, manipulating some vættir for their own amusement, enslaving others. It didn’t take long before that got old.”

  I nod. Not much has changed since then, from what I can see. Most of the contracts taken on by the Aerie were for one god or another, invisible wars that most mortals never knew about. “So the vættir joined with the humans in fighting the Æthereals.”

  “Yes. In those days the vættir weren’t hidden like they are now. So the vættir and humans began to fight the Æthereals, pushing them out of the Mortal Realm. The average human has no chance against an Æthereal.”

  Understanding dawns on me. “But an army of vættir could.”

  Nanda nods. “Zeus and the High Council refused to give in to the demands of the vættir army. But Hades and his dark lords had had enough of war, and they agreed to retreat to the Underworld permanently. It looked like the Æthereal-Vættir War would go on forever, but then Zeus fell in love with one of the vættir generals, Circe. The two of them would meet along the river Styx, where Zeus would proclaim his love to her.”

  I wrinkle my nose because I’ve been to the Styx. Not the most romantic place for a hookup.

  Nanda is still talking, so I push aside the remembered stink of dead fish and focus on what she’s saying. “She made Zeus swear on the Styx that he would help her end this war, and even go so far as to appoint champions that would protect the vættir from the tyranny of the Æthereals. In a moment of weakness he agreed, even though his promise enraged the rest of the High Æthereals. The first champions, Heracles and Tischa, were born a few years later.”

  I blink. “Wasn’t Heracles Zeus’s kid?”

  Nanda smirks at me. “The Exalteds fall in and out of love very quickly.”

  I snort. “I bet. Who’s Tischa?” I ask, pronouncing it like she does with a sshh sound.

  “Tischa was the first Nyx, the champion of the shadow vættir. See, the Mortal Realm, unlike the Æthereal Realm and the Underworld, is all about balance. There were two champions: one of the dark and one of the bright. These champions were gods given flesh, just as powerful as the Exalteds but restricted by their lifespans. Every hundred years, there was a new champion chosen by the dark, a complement to the champion chosen by the light. But not all of the shadow champions were strong enough to be called the Nyx, just like not all bright champions are strong enough to be called the Pandarus. The last true Nyx lived over two thousand years ago.”

  “Until he was murdered by Odysseus Oathbreaker.” Nanda and I both look toward the door, where Cass stands. She comes to the table and sits down.

  Nanda clears her throat. “I take it the ward is repaired?”

  “Yes. It’s a good ward.” Cass leans back in her chair and plays with the ragged end of her hair. Is she nervous? Can she even get nervous? She clears her throat. “Did you tell her that my father is the Pandarus who set off the Dark Prophecy?”

  Nanda shakes her head, and maybe I imagine it, but I’m pretty sure I see the briefest flicker of fear in her expression. The whiff of spoiling grapefruit confirms her panic though. Nanda clears her throat. “I’ve said nothing. I didn’t, um . . . get to that part.”

  Cass can’t smell the fear in Nanda’s words, but I can. Is Cass really that scary?

  I think of her family line. Circe, who talked a god into ending a war; Perseus, who killed the Medusa; and Heracles, who killed a cerberus with his bare hands. Heroes, all of them. That might be a little intimidating.

  “Please let me tell it. After all, I lived it.” Cass turns to me, her green eyes wide and guileless. She somehow looks younger right now than ever before, even though she just stood up to Nanda. “My father was appointed the champion of the bright, and for a few years he was happy fighting monsters and keeping the dark ones in line. But then Hera approached him, promising him an Æthereal for a wife if he were to betray the dark champion. My mother had passed on a few years before, and my father thought I needed a mother to ensure a good marriage.”

  I nod, even though my knowledge of ancient vættir customs is woefully lacking. I’m guessing that arranged marriages were pretty common?

  Cass sighs. “What Nanda probably did not tell you is that the dark champion is much stronger than the bright. Always has been. The dark lords were happy to remain in the Underworld, so there were few problems for the champion of the bright to deal with. Just a random monster birthed by the Rift every now and then. But the High Council was still angry at having their war ended early. They were hungry for power after their victory over the Titans, and they were determined to rule the Mortal Realm as well. The only thing stopping them was the vættir.”

  “So what, your dad went and killed this dark champion guy?”

  Cass stills, like a snake about to strike. Her voice is low when she speaks. “Elias was supposed to meet me. We were running away to be married. My father found out and summoned Hera, saying he would accept her deal. By then a few of the Oracles were talking about a Dark Prophecy and a time of fear and pain for the vættir. They saw a Pandarus setting the events in motion, and even though my father knew about the Dark Prophecy, he didn’t care. He arrived at the meeting place before I did and killed Elias right in front of me. I killed my father in retaliation, and it was only as he lay there dying that he confessed he’d done it out of some obligation to me.”

  I want to reach out to Cass and comfort her, but her eyes are dry. From her expression she could be relating a recipe for cookies. I feel a pang of sympathy for her. She lost so much when she lost her emotions, but maybe it’s more a gift than a curse. It would be hard to live for thousands of years with the weight of what she went through.

  Nanda shifts in her chair and clears her throat again. “With both of the champions dead, things became very bad for the vættir. We tried fighting back against the Exalteds, but by then Hera had begun recruiting vættir and low-level Æthereals to serve her. She called them her Acolytes. After a thousand years or so the Pandarus was reborn and aligned himself with the Acolytes, as did his successors. Most vættir were too afraid to fight the Acolytes, so we all became very scattered. Then, fifteen hundred years after the death of Elias, an Oracle announced that there would be a new dark champion, the Prophecy of the Promise. He said the new Ny
x would be a daughter of the dark. She would lead the vættir out of their oppression.”

  I stand and begin to pace. “That’s supposed to be me?”

  Nanda sighs loudly. “Yes.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. Why wasn’t a Nyx born sooner? I mean, you said that there have been several Pandarus since Cass’s father.”

  Nanda’s expression is grim, and her lips tighten for a moment before she speaks. “Since the prophecy, Hera and her Acolytes have been killing anyone they find to have an affinity for the erebos. It could be that a Nyx was born before now, but just never came into their full abilities. Most shadow vættir are in hiding and have been for centuries. They don’t speak to other vættir, and they don’t use their powers. A few of us have set up a system of safe houses to help those who are outed. I’m a part of that system. In the past few months things have gotten even worse. Where it used to be two or three shadow vættir killed a month, it’s now up to ten or twenty. Pretty soon the shadow vættir will be wiped out.”

  “And then Hera will move on to the bright vættir,” Cass says. “She’ll enslave them like the old days, and eventually move on to the general human population. The vættir who follow her are fools.”

  I shrug. “Won’t the Pandarus protect the bright vættir? That’s his job, right?”

  Nanda shakes her head slowly. “Hera killed the last Pandarus about twenty years ago. She then appointed the Ramuns as her generals, which you already know. Right now there’s no one to protect the vættir.”

  The room falls silent as I try to process everything I’ve learned. Prophecies have never been something I understood. There’s a lot of room for error. I mean, I could be the Nyx, but it could all just be a coincidence. The person who actually needs to fulfill the prophecy might be running around in diapers right now, waiting for the stars to align. You never know with these sorts of things.

  Anyway, I’m not sure I believe everything that Nanda and Cass just told me. But I’m just too tired to argue about it right now.

  I yawn widely. Nanda catches me and grins.

  “You know, you girls have been through hell and back, literally. Why don’t you go get some rest, and we’ll work out what your next steps should be. We have time.”

  I nod. “That sounds great. Cass?”

  She shakes her head. “I would like to spend some time with Nanda, getting caught up on things. I’m very behind, I think.”

  “Girl, you have no idea.” Nanda laughs, but there’s a nervousness to it. I make a mental note to try to convince her that Cass is not a threat, despite the niggle of doubt in the back of my mind. Even though Cass kept a few important details from me, I refuse to believe she’s dangerous. She’s still the girl who has saved my life too many times to count.

  I leave the two of them whispering together like old ladies. I head upstairs, my feet feeling incredibly heavy. I’ve barely sprawled across the bed before my eyes are closing.

  My last thought is that everyone is going to be very disappointed when they find out that I’m not really the Nyx.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  I WAKE TO SOMEONE SHAKING me. For a long, terrifying moment I think I’m still in the Pits. I flail, fighting off my attacker. It’s only after I land a punch and the person shaking me lets go with a loud “Ow!” that I remember I’m at Nanda’s, safe and sound in the spare bedroom.

  I sit up and rub the sleep from my eyes while Tallon holds his face. Darkness presses in from the room’s window. The lamp beside the bed casts the only light. I sigh and push my snarls back from my face. “What time is it?”

  “A little after midnight,” he says. I’m finally waking up, and the first thing I notice is that he isn’t wearing a shirt. Dark zigzags radiate out from his shoulder like an angry sun, and I remember admiring them at Lyss’s pond. It surprises me a little. I never would’ve thought Tallon would be a tattoo enthusiast.

  I pull my gaze away from his shoulder long enough to notice the way his pajama pants hang low on his hips. I don’t think pajama pants have ever looked so amazing. But instead of acknowledging the uncomfortable fluttering sensation in my belly, I point to Tallon’s pants and say, “Wow, I never took you for a cat person.”

  He looks down at the pattern of kittens frolicking and sighs. “They were a gift from Alora.” I’m pretty sure that I see a smile play around his lips, and the awkward feeling disappears.

  “What’s going on?” It doesn’t seem like we’re under attack or anything, and Tallon must’ve woken me for some other reason than for me to sit here and admire his muscles.

  “You were spilling darkness all over the house. It woke me up and now Cass is sleeping on the couch.”

  I yawn. “What do you mean ‘spilling darkness’?”

  He points at me, and sure enough darkness ripples off my arms like smoke. I will it away and the wisps disappear, but not before worry makes my stomach churn.

  “How do I keep it from doing that?”

  Tallon crosses his arms. “You have two choices. You can force it to submit to your will, or you can make the dark your friend.”

  “I don’t know that I can.” How does Tallon know this? Does he use the dark somehow? He can’t be a shadow vættir. I’ve seen him use æther before. Maybe he’s just being his usual bossy self.

  More important, why is my erebos rising up now?

  Tallon sighs and sits at the foot of the bed, his eye surrounded by a fading purple bruise. The spot is healing, but my guilt weighs heavy. “I’m sorry.”

  He looks at me with a raised eyebrow. “For what?”

  “Hitting you. Now and earlier today.”

  He shrugs, but amusement tugs at his lips again. “It’s okay. It was kind of nice. It reminded me of the old you.”

  I grin at him, the years seeming to fall away for a moment. “Remember that time when me and Whisper dropped the eggs on you and Alora?” I was young enough that I wasn’t allowed to fly by myself, so Whisper had convinced me to help her steal a few eggs from Aerie kitchens and drop them on Tallon. I was so excited to have a chance to fly that I agreed.

  He nods, his darks eyes sparkling in the low light. “She was so mad. But I got you back with that rotten tomato.”

  “We didn’t think you’d be able to throw that far.” I laugh when I remember how Whisper screamed when the tomato hit her in her face. But the memory quickly shifts into pain, and my laughter fades, leaving a raw ache in my middle.

  Tallon watches with his too-dark gaze. “I’m sorry she’s gone.”

  “Yeah, me too.” I look down at my hands and fight back the tears that threaten to overwhelm me. I haven’t even had a chance to mourn her. After her death I went on the run, and then there was my trial, followed by the never-ending fight to stay alive in Tartarus. I feel like I never really got a chance to say good-bye to her.

  Tallon pats my hand awkwardly and stands to go. With him gone I’ll be left alone in the dark with my memories of Whisper, memories that still bring more pain than joy.

  Before I can stop myself, I reach out to Tallon, grabbing his wrist. He stops, dark eyes widening slightly. “Wait. Can you, um . . . can you lie down with me? Just for a little bit until I fall asleep?” When I was younger, I was terrified of the dark. During his visits all of us kids would sleep out in our yard, holding mini campouts. While Alora and Whisper mocked my fear, Tallon would always scoot his sleeping bag next to mine to help me feel brave. It’s that long-ago feeling of security that I’m thinking of when I ask Tallon to stay.

  But when he looks at me, I remember we aren’t kids anymore. I’m seventeen, eighteen if you count my lost year. And Tallon? Tallon is definitely not a kid anymore. Embarrassment heats my face, and I suddenly feel very silly and oh so exposed.

  “Never mind, it was a stupid question.” I let go of him, but without a word he climbs into the bed next to me. The mattress is large enough to hold two people. Tallon scoots all the way against the wall, space and a layer of blankets between the two of us. We don’t
touch, but I am still hyperaware of him.

  I turn off the light and lie in the dark, listening to his even breathing. But having him here is almost worse than lying by myself. All I can think about is the way he looks without his shirt, and how he’s now a more masculine version of the somber kid he once was. A kid I spent most of my childhood chasing after.

  When my mom told me Nanda wouldn’t be coming for any more visits, it was Tallon I cried for, not Nanda. Nanda may have been my sunshine, but Tallon was my world.

  My restless thoughts make me toss and turn until Tallon finally throws an arm across my middle and pulls me close. “Go to sleep, Peep,” he says, an echo of those campouts so long ago.

  And at his soft urging I finally do.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I WAKE NEXT TO SOMETHING warm and snuggly. I’m not quite ready to get up, so I burrow into the warm spot, hoping to go back to sleep. This is the best sleep I’ve had in months. I’m not going to give up on it that easily.

  I’m happy when the warmth shifts toward me. I’m about to fall back asleep when my warm spot pulls me close. “Go back to sleep, Peep.”

  I sit straight up in bed, and Tallon cracks open one of his dark eyes to look at me. “What?”

  My stomach feels strange, like when I used to turn into a dive too quickly while flying. “Oh, nothing, just you know, ready to get up and attack the day!” The words come out in a rush and my heart pounds. Sunshine streams in through the window, and in the daylight asking Tallon to sleep with me seems like a much bigger deal than it did last night when I was scared of my memories.

  Tallon props his head up on his fist. “That’s funny. Since when are you a morning person?”

  Since now. “Oh, you know, since forever. I mean, I’ve got a big prophecy to fulfill. I should get on that, don’t you think?”