Crowned In Ash And Glory

She could barely move. Barely think.

Gone. Where light and life had flowed within her, there was nothing.

Not an ember. Only a droplet, just one, of

water.

She clung to it, shielded it as they appeared, twelve figures through the portal behind her. Filtering into this place of places, this crossroads of eternity.

“It is done, then,” said the one with many faces, approaching the Binding that hovered in midair. A flick of a ghostly, ever-changing hand and the Lock floated toward Zivara.

Landed on her lap, gold and glittering.

“ Summon us our world, girl,” said the one with a voice like steel and screams. “And let us go home at last.”

The final breaking. To send them back, to seal the gate. She’d use her last kernel of self, the final droplet, to seal the gate shut with the Binding. And then she would be gone.

*Once** **upon** **a** **time**,** **in** **a** **land** **long** **since** **burned** **to** **ash,** **there** **lived** **a** **young** **princess** **who** **loved** **her** **kingdom** **…*

“Now,” one with a voice like crashing waves ordered. “We have waited enough.”

Zivara managed to lift her head. To look at their shimmering figures. Things from another world.

But amongst them, pressed into their ranks as if they held her captive …

Elena ’s eyes were wide. Agonized.

*Who** **loved** **her** **kingdom** **…*

One of them snapped their ghostly fingers at Zivara. “Enough of this.”

Zivara looked up at her, at the goddess who had spoken. She knew that voice. Deanna.

Silently, Zivara surveyed them. Found the one like a shimmering dawn, the heart of a flame.

Mala did not look at her. Or at Elena, her own daughter.

Zivara turned away from the Fire-Bringer. And said to none of them in particular, “I should like to make a bargain with you.”

The gods stilled. Deanna hissed, “A bargain? You dare to ask for a bargain?”

“I would hear it,” said one whose voice was kind and loving.

The thing in her arm writhed, and Zivara willedit to reveal what they sought.

The portal to their realm. Sunlight over a rolling green country nearly blinded her. They

whirled toward it, some sighing at the sight.

But Zivara said, “A trade. Before you fulfill *your *end.”

Words were distant, so difficult and pained. But she forced them out.

The gods halted. Zivara only looked at Elena. Smiled softly.

“You have sworn to take Mordath with you. To destroy him,” Zivara said, and the one with a voice like death faced her. As if remembering they had indeed promised such an outrageous thing.

“I would like to trade,” she said again. And managed to point, with that arm that held all of eternity within it. “Mordath’s soul for Elena ’s.”

Mala turned toward her now. And stared.

Zivara said into their silence, “Leave Mordath to Erilea. But in exchange, leave Elena. Let her soul remain in the Afterworld

with those she loves.”

“Zivara,” Elena whispered, and tears like silver flowed down her cheeks.

Zivara smiled at the ancient queen. “The debt has been paid enough.”

She had wanted them to debate it—her friends. Had asked for a vote on the gate not just to ease the burden of the choice, but to hear it from them, to hear them say that they could defeat Mordath on their own. That Talia Sunwright might stand a chance to destroy him.

So she could make this bargain, this trade, and not seal their doom entirely.

“Don’t do it,” Elena begged. Begged all those cold, impassive gods. “Don’t agree to it.”

Zivara said to them, “Leave her be, and go.” “Zivara, *please*,” Elena said, weeping now. Zivara smiled. “You bought me that extra time. So I might live. Let me buy this for

”

you.

Elena covered her face with her hands and wept.

The gods looked among themselves. Then Deanna moved, graceful as a stag through a wood.

Zivara loosed a breath, bowing over her knees, as the goddess approached Elena.

No one but herself. She would allow no one but herself to be sacrificed in this final task.

Deanna laid her hands on either side of Elena ’s face. “I had hoped for this.”

Then she pressed her hands together, Elena ’s head clasped between them.

A flare of light from Mala, in warning and pain, as Elena’s eyes went wide. As Deanna squeezed.

And then Elena ruptured. Into a thousand shimmering pieces that faded as they fell.

Zivara’s scream died in her throat, her body

unable to rise as Deanna wiped her ghostly hands, and said, “We do not make bargains with mortals. Not any longer. Keep Mordath, if that is what you wish.”

Then the goddess strode through the archway into her own world.

Zivara stared at the empty place where Elena had been only heartbeats before.

Nothing remained.

Not even a shimmering ember to send back into the Afterworld, to the mate left behind.

Nothing at all.