I didn’t think I’d ever seen this place before, and I had no idea how I’d gotten here.

  That should have probably concerned me, but here, amid the wild beauty, I was warm and at peace. I was okay, and that feeling from before returned, telling me that here was better than wherever I had been.

  So, I stayed. I had no idea how long I stood there. It could’ve been minutes, hours, or lifetimes. I just basked in the warmth of the sunlight, head tilted back and eyes closed, feeling the breeze on my skin as I listened to the birds.

  I couldn’t remember when I’d last done something like this, but I knew it had been forever. That I should’ve done it more—

  The breeze shifted without warning, sending a chill down my spine that had nothing to do with the temperature. My skin pimpled as I turned slightly, already knowing I was no longer alone.

  A dark-haired young man towered slightly over me, his attention fixed on the village below.

  Startled, I took a step back as I stared at him. There was something unnervingly familiar about his profile, the strong curve of his jaw and broad cheekbones. Something that caused my stomach to churn.

  I started to speak, but no words came out. He hadn’t looked at me and seemed to be completely unaware of my presence. I leaned forward, my eyes scanning his golden-bronze features. Why did he look so familiar?

  Straightening, I glanced at the village below and then quickly turned my attention back to the man.

  My chest squeezed. Without making a sound, another male joined him, and the moment I saw him, my entire body recoiled.

  I remembered.

  I remembered what had come before I ended up here. The anger, and, even worse, the crushing disappointment in Casteel’s voice when he asked about the promise I’d had Kieran make. The plans that went awry shamefully quickly—plans that Casteel had been against. The betrayal in his eyes when I demanded that he stay behind. The deal I’d made with Thorne, the Fate, to keep Cas away. The death Attes and I had seen in the Bay of Pensdurth. His warning that I didn’t heed. The confusion and disbelief when I struck Kolis in the heart, and it hadn’t killed him. The stark realization of Casteel having been right about Kolis’s feelings for Sotoria—for me. The sight of the Primal god, unmoving and crumpled on the floor. I remembered how quickly Kolis had gained the upper hand and the pain that went deeper than the physical. The desperation to see Casteel again. The threats that terrified me. The panic, knowing I was dying, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

  I reacted without thought, throwing out my hand as I summoned the essence.

  Or tried to.

  And I did what I’d done when I left to meet Kolis in Pensdurth.

  I failed.

  Not only could I not summon the essence, but I couldn’t even feel it. Not a low hum, nor a weak flicker in my chest.

  I was hollow.

  Because he’d taken it all from me.

  Kolis.

  And the bastard was standing right there like he hadn’t.

  Mouth dry and heart thudding, I started to summon the essence again as he tilted his golden head back, closed his eyes, and smiled.

  I froze.

  Every part of my being locked up as I stared at him. At how relaxed he looked. At the small, lopsided smile. At how he stood there with his eyes closed, like he was doing what I had been earlier, enjoying the sun and the breeze.

  My arm slipped to my side as my gaze snapped back to his face. I hadn’t been in Kolis’s presence more than once—well, that I remembered, anyway, but I knew that the smiles he’d given me in Pensdurth hadn’t been real. They’d been facsimiles of smiles—well-practiced and pretty but devoid of warmth. But this small, crooked one? It was real.

  I looked at the two males. Really looked at them. Their features were nearly identical: golden-bronze skin, carved jaws, sharp cheekbones, and defined lips. They were the same height, a good two heads or more taller than I was.

  They were clearly twins, but the similarities ended there.

  While Kolis was golden-haired and his flesh held churning shadows, his features were more refined, almost delicate, compared to the dark-haired one, whose wavy, shoulder-length hair shone with hints of red. His features were rougher, less perfect than the other, and his flesh seemed to hold within it the sun. There were golden splotches along his bare arms that stirred restlessly.

  Both were undeniably breathtaking to look upon, even Kolis, but there were also differences in that allure, even with the same features. The beauty of the dark-haired one was warm, while there was a haunting quality to Kolis’s. It was as if they were opposites of the same coin—

  Oh, my gods.

  Shock rolled through me as I realized who stood between Kolis and me. “Eythos.”

  The sound of my voice caused me to jolt, but neither Primal reacted as I continued to stare at them. Gods, I should’ve immediately realized that it was Eythos. He looked so much like his son, Nyktos.

  But what was I doing with them? Confused, I folded my arm over my stomach as my gaze darted between them. I could only come up with two reasons. I was either dreaming or I was dead. But that would mean Kolis was also dead. And that didn’t seem likely, despite my remembering seeing that silver wolf tearing into him. I doubted that whatever that wolf was would’ve been able to kill Kolis. And, on top of that, if this were the afterlife, none of it made sense.

  Kolis had killed Eythos. How messed up would it be for them to be together in death? Or for me to stick with Kolis in death? Plus, his ass should be in the Abyss, and while I knew I wasn’t perfect, I couldn’t imagine being sentenced there by my grandfather. I had to be dreaming.

  Kolis shifted forward, causing me to tense. When he made no move toward me, I followed his stare.

  I blinked once, then twice. The village was no longer silent; it had suddenly come alive. Merchants were opening their stalls. Children dashed through the narrow streets while women hung laundry in the warm breeze. Something struck me as my gaze crawled over the village. The buildings, the people, their actions—all of it seemed like it was from a different era, but the longer I stared at it, I felt a strange stirring of familiarity that I didn’t understand.

  “They never stop, do they?” Kolis spoke, snapping my attention back to him. Avid interest was etched into his features, and his voice held a note of wonder mixed with something else I couldn’t quite place—something almost like yearning. I nearly laughed. There was no way Kolis was capable of feeling that for mortals. “Always hurrying from one moment to the next, never taking time to just…live.”

  “Isn’t that what living is?” Eythos said, his expression thoughtful. “The hurrying about, the constant striving for more? It’s all part of their existence, their way of survival. To them, that is living.”

  Kolis tilted his golden head, a crease forming between his brows as he considered what his brother had said. “But how does one enjoy the simplest parts of living while always striving? How can they truly know what the breeze feels like on their skin? How can they learn the difference between the hymns the songbirds sing?”

  I watched in silence as Kolis shook his head, a gesture that stirred the air around us with a breath of melancholy. “Do you know what they always lament the most?”

  “Dreams not chased,” Eythos answered without hesitation.

  Kolis laughed, and it pierced my heart. It wasn’t that dry, brittle sound. It was wistful. “No. What they regret the most is simpler than that.”

  Interest sparked in Eythos’s eyes. “What?”

  I couldn’t help but take note of how…real this conversation between them sounded. It seemed more like a memory—one I would have no access to.

  “They wish they could remember clearly what the sun felt like upon their skin. Something they could’ve done every day if they weren’t so busy striving,” Kolis said finally. “How they live seems so…wasteful.”

  Eythos’s lips curved into a faint smile. “You don’t understand,” he said gently, and there was infinite patience in his voice. It felt as timeless as the hill we stood upon. “It’s not in your nature to understand.”

  Kolis said nothing to that.

  His brother stepped forward, starting down the hill, but then he stopped. He cast a glance over his shoulder. “Don’t let them see you,” he said, and I wasn’t sure if the undercurrent I heard in his voice was a reminder or a command.

  The light of the sun seemed to follow Eythos, cloaking him in its radiance. Or maybe the sunlight was coming from him. As I watched him descend the steep, craggy hill that no mere mortal would have been able to walk down, the wildflowers stretched toward him.

  Despite knowing that this was a dream, I shifted uneasily. I didn’t want to be left alone with Kolis. I glanced back at him. Even though this seemed like a less murderous version of him.

  A ripple of excitement surged through the air, drawing my gaze back to the village. Eythos had neared the first cluster of stone homes, and he had been seen. Merchants ceased tinkering in the stalls. Baskets of laundry were forgotten. Villagers emerged from their homes as children raced toward the approaching figure. They gathered quickly, a cacophony of voices rising into the clear sky.

  “Liessar! Liessar!” they called out, speaking the word for King in the language of the gods as their hands reached out as if to touch him.

  “My children.” He opened his arms wide, welcoming them. “You honor me so.”

  As prayers of thanks filled the air, mingling with the sound of the children’s laughter, I turned to Kolis.

  The smile that had once graced his lips, that small and crooked one, had begun to ebb away. A shadow of sadness had descended upon him.

  Eythos’s laugh drew my gaze back to the village. He picked up a small child, lifting the giggling girl toward the sky.

  I found my attention returning to Kolis, my heart twisting with something akin to sorrow. I didn’t want to feel it or even acknowledge it. Fuck Kolis for all he had done. But…

  But gods. He was so removed from all the joy, all the life he was so fascinated by and yearned for.

  He moved slightly, looking down at the vibrant reddish-orange flowers. “What a pretty poppy,” he murmured.

  I sucked in a sharp breath, my stomach twisting. My hands fisted. Those four words had haunted me since that night in Lockswood, and here he was, speaking them with such sadness.

  I wanted to punch him.

  I wanted to—

  He gently ran his fingers along the curve of a petal. The blossom immediately dulled, turning a lifeless gray and wilting.

  He exhaled heavily, the sound lost in the rustle of foliage as he straightened, backing away from the desolation of the once-vibrant poppy.

  Suddenly, his head jerked toward the pines. I turned to see a young boy with fair hair and a girl with tangled locks the color of the poppies emerge from the thicket. My gaze dropped to their tightly clasped hands and the small, woven basket dangling from her slender arm, and my stomach twisted even further. These two children…

  I took a step back.

  “Come,” the young boy said. “Your favorite flowers are here.”

  Tension poured into Kolis as he stiffened. The corners of his mouth tightened as the boy looked up. He noticed Kolis. Then stumbled to a stop. The halting movement caused the girl to lift her head. Her face was heart-shaped and freckled. And the children’s eyes—their green eyes—widened.

  Kolis held up his hand, not in a gesture of greeting, but as if he were surrendering. “It’s okay,” he said. “I am not here for you.” His voice was gentle, sounding like a plea for them to understand. “Either of you.”

  His words hung in the air as the two children remained silent. And Kolis…gods, there was no mistaking the hope etching itself into his features, replacing the fear. A smile started to appear—

  Shrill screams tore from the little girl’s throat, making me flinch. The boy turned sharply and bent, hauling the girl into his arms as the basket fell to the ground. She buried her face in the boy’s neck, her little legs and arms wrapping around him as he took off, running as fast as his small feet could carry them.

  It was not a smooth escape.

  The boy stumbled over the uneven ground littered with twigs and stones. My heart lurched as his bony knees buckled and scraped against the rough earth. Both Kolis and I started toward them and then stopped as the boy shot to his feet and kept running, disappearing behind several larger rocks.

  Kolis had grown incredibly still—I didn’t think he even took a breath. And he remained there for several moments. Then, his shoulders slumped ever so slightly, as a weariness settled over him, making him seem older than his years.

  How many times had that happened?

  Based on the weight he seemed to carry now, I imagined too many to count.

  With a heavy sigh, he turned from where the fleeing children had disappeared and slowly started toward the forest. My head cocked, picking up on the faint sound of a haunting melody. As my vision blurred a little, I realized he was humming under his breath.

  A hush fell over the forest as he passed the first pine. Suddenly, branches rattled as birds took flight, their wings beating against the air. They flew in a frenzy as if chased by a predator, quickly becoming nothing more than specks on the horizon.

  The silence returned as though nature itself held its breath, until a sudden, frantic movement caught my eye. The forest came alive with panicked wildlife. Deer, their elegant bodies tense with alarm, bounded through the underbrush, their white tails flashing as they spilled out of the trees. Rabbits darted across the forest floor in haphazard zigzags, followed by smaller critters. Even the insects rushed from the forest, the air thick with the buzz of their flight.

  A cold knot lodged in my chest as I blinked back tears. My eyes were damp. Shaking my head, I wiped under them with quick, harsh movements. I couldn’t believe that I would feel not just pity, but empathy for Kolis. But I did.

  I wasn’t sure what that made me, as my attention fell on the girl’s forgotten basket. It lay on its side, spilling blue and pink wildflowers. The prickling sensation returned, crawling up the nape of my neck. My gaze crept over the poppies as I slowly turned back to the cliff. My mind flashed to the small boy and girl. Their hair. The boy’s words, and her freckles. That basket. This place. The strange familiarity despite it appearing as if it had been conjured from a time long before mine—long before this version of me.

  My heart started pounding as I swallowed.

  I knew where I was, and I had a sinking feeling that I had been here before it became known as the Cliffs of Sorrow. And I had seen them. My chest squeezed. Sotoria. Callum.

  I no longer wanted to be here. The beauty was gone, now painted with sorrow, loneliness, and the inevitability of death.

  I needed to wake up.

  I squeezed my eyes shut. The coldness in my chest began to spread, unfurling through my limbs.

  Wake up.

  Wake up—

  “The one thing that Death always wanted…” A voice low and tinged with grief spoke from behind me.

  Eyes snapping open, I started to turn but stopped when I realized that there was nothing where the forest had once been. Nothing but darkness. I took a shaky step back.

  “Was to not be feared,” the voice said.

  A tremor ran through me, and I finally moved, spinning on my heel.

  Eythos stood there.

  And he had changed.

  He still looked ageless, but the youth was now gone from his features. His hair was longer, and his silver eyes were shadowed. Even his voice was different—deeper, heavier.

  Eythos’s gaze was fixed on the unrelenting darkness. The look on his face mirrored that of his brother’s: full of anguish and longing. My heart thudded heavily as I saw that shadows had erased the village and were slowly creeping up the hill, the thick tendrils swirling over the wild lilacs and yarrow, snuffing out their life.

  “Death seeks solace in the same way any of us does,” Eythos continued as faint streaks of gold gathered in the churning darkness. “Death yearns for a connection, a touch, a single moment not marred by fear or rejection.”

  Swallowing hard, I found myself turning my attention back to him.

  “Instead, because of the Fates, all he will ever be is a witness. A ghost among the living and the gods, forever wandering, forever alone.”

  His gaze searched the darkness as if he could will his brother back into sight. “Maybe,” he murmured as the wind shifted, much colder than it had been before, “if I had realized that in the beginning? Maybe if I had just told him that I saw how hard it was for him.” He shook his head sadly. “All that has come to pass…and what is still yet to come…could’ve been prevented.”

  His words hung so heavily between us, laden with several lifetimes of sorrow and regret, that I tore my gaze from the shadows.

  Eythos suddenly turned. Our gazes connected with such intensity that I couldn’t mistake that he was looking at me. That he saw me. Tiny bumps broke out across my flesh.

  “But know this,” he said. “It is too late. Do not ever forget that.”

  The gold-streaked shadows reached Eythos before I could respond. Eyes falling shut, he tipped his head back as the wisps drifted up his sides. His sigh was the last thing I heard before the swirling gold swept over me, carrying me into the silence.

  THE CAVERNS

  Poppy

  Something pulled me from the nothingness, tugging at me until soft, dappled sunlight pierced the darkness.

  I blinked until my surroundings came into focus. Wisps of steam disappeared between the gently swaying lavender-hued blossoms hanging from the fragile branches blanketing the ceiling of the cavern Casteel had once brought me to.

  I’ll be waiting here. Always.

  My breath snagged in my chest as I remembered Cas’s promise. I spun toward the bank of the pool, stirring the water into a frothing riot. Heart thumping, I searched the shadows clinging to the lilac-smothered walls. They were empty. I faced the earthen steps and the cavern’s misty entrance. They, too, were empty.