The sound of breathing and the broken whisper of her name drew both their attention.
“Quinn,” her sister said as she heaved herself over the last step and onto the dais. To her credit, she did not collapse to her knees, though they shook violently.
“You came for me,” Quinn said, moving like she was going to stand. Her body dissipated into shadows and smoke, reforming in front of Risk.
Her sister reached for her, as if she could not believe her eyes.
Chilled hands touched Quinn’s cheeks, but they felt warm on the dead woman’s skin. When she’d died, her soul had come here, and the cold that she’d always clung to became all there was. All she was.
For so long she’d believed the winter was something the N’skari had created. That the goddess Skadi was responsible for its eternalness.
She now knew the truth.
That the desecrated temple of Mazzulah was the only entry into the dark realm that existed on the Sirian continent, and its cold depths could not truly be contained behind two doors.
“I will always come for you,” Risk whispered. Her lips were chapped and cracked. Her skin drawn tight from exhaustion and lack of sleep. A great black bird of prey sat on her shoulder, its golden eyes staring at Quinn shrewdly.
Neiss descended from the twin throne Quinn had sat upon and slithered across the cold stone. Risk lowered her hands from Quinn to the snake at their feet. He lifted his head in greeting to Risk, and she lowered her face, resting her forehead to his.
“Hello, old friend,” she said to him, speaking fondly. The emotion that coated her tone was different from what she used with Quinn.
After a moment, she raised her head once more.
There was a sadness in her eyes. A sorrow.
“I’m not sure you should have,” Quinn whispered. She felt it the moment the dark god rose from his throne. The very air changed, and the creatures that cried out from below quieted. Cold winds settled in the sky where they stood, overlooking all.
“Mariska Darkova,” the god said. His voice wrapping around the syllables of her sister’s name. Turning it into something more by simply speaking it.
“Mazzulah,” her sister uttered his name as a curse and a prayer.
The dark chuckle the god gave revealed what he thought of that.
“Are you angry with me, child?” he asked her.
Her sister’s white eyebrows drew together. “N-no.”
“Then what has brought you home?” the god asked, looming closer. Her cold fingers burned as they brushed Quinn’s bare arm. She stepped back, obliging to the god’s silent command.
“I have come for my sister,” Risk said, lifting her chin. To her credit, her voice did not quiver again.
Mazzulah never stopped smiling throughout their exchange.
Quinn looked away. She was torn between the feelings in her chest; such immense gratitude for what Risk meant to do, and such horror for what it would cost her.
Mazzulah didn’t tell Quinn his plans, but she’d watched him long enough. Knew him well enough to know that her sister should never have set foot in the dark realm.
“Which one?” he asked. Risk frowned, and then it occurred to her. She was half-raksasa, after all. And the raksasa were Mazzulah’s children.
“Quinn,” she said, speaking harsher again. “I have come for Quinn.”
“Hmm,” the god hummed.
A cold hand wrapped around Quinn’s waist, pulling her into his side.
Like him, she wore two strips of dark fabric. One over each shoulder that extended the full length of her body. A silver chain around her hips kept the cloth in place.
His clawed nails pressed into flesh as his dark bicep curled around her. Lips trailed from her jaw to her temple.
Risk’s eyebrows drew together once more, and Quinn knew she both understood and didn’t. That her innocence, and lack thereof, kept her from fully grasping this situation.
“Quinn died, and because the darkness of her soul, she was mine to claim,” Mazzulah murmured.
“She shouldn’t have died,” Risk said. “It was my fault.”
“Perhaps,” Mazzulah mused, his eyes sweeping Quinn’s face. Watching her reaction to Risk’s words. “But she did, and now she’s mine.”
Her sister’s hands clenched into fists.
“Alpis brought me here. He said that there is a way for me to bring her back.” Her tone was desperate now, and Quinn closed her eyes against it because she could not interfere. The god was not wrong that her soul was as dark as they came. He was owed that. Owed her.
But if this Alpis brought Risk here, Quinn could only take that to