Heavy gray clouds began to roil above Andrasta’s head, rare winter lightning striking trees all around her. The air grew so cold that her blood seemed to freeze in her veins, her knees to the ground. Visions
of her brothers dead flashed before her eyes. Even her heart froze in place, fear stopping the beats until she was stone within.
“How?” she whispered.
“Go to Otherworld. Kill him in the land of the gods when he’s in his godly form. You’ll destroy him permanently if you use his arrow there.”
“But only the dead can go to Otherworld. How do I?”
“How do you think?” The goddess tossed a small knife into the snow and disappeared.
Andrasta stared at it, mouth agape, as her vision swam. This was what her life had come down to? A blade in the snow?
Tears spilled from her eyes, but from behind them she saw images of Marrek bleeding into the snow. Before she could back out, she grabbed the knife and sliced it along her wrist. She gasped as the pain shot through her, and she fumbled the blade. Her hand shook as she recovered it and tried again. Eventually, enough of her blood poured into the snow that she began to drift away on pain and sorrow.
The throbbing in her wrists faded as soon as she opened her eyes. But the tears still fell, obscuring her vision of an unfamiliar oak forest. When she tried to sniff her tears into submission, she was greeted by the smell of the sea mixed with the green scent of the forest.
She scrubbed her eyes, then inspected her wrists, her stomach clutching at the sight of the long scars. It felt like so long ago that she’d knelt in the snow and dragged the little knife across her flesh. One hand gripped her bow. Of course the gods had allowed her to bring it. She’d need it for her terrible task.
She rose on unsteady feet, her soul feeling pulled to the west. In her heart, she knew that she would find her ancestors there. It took everything in her power to resist. She turned east and away from temptation, determination leading her in search of Camulos.
Andrasta wandered the forest for what felt like days. She felt no hunger, no exhaustion. Nothing but determination to finish what she’d started so that she could save her brothers. The image of Marrek’s blood soaking into the snow flashed constantly through her mind, followed shortly after by images of Camulos.
Would she be able to kill him again when she saw him? Would he kill her first? If she wasn’t strong, if she didn’t remember that she fought for her brothers’ lives, she was afraid that she would let him.
“Are you looking for me?” The deep voice came from behind. She stumbled in surprise after so many days alone.
How had she gotten to be so clumsy that he could sneak up on her? She spun to face him, fear leaping in her heart. Relief followed, for he was, in fact, still alive. Her wrist twinged. Perhaps alive wasn’t exactly the word for it. But here, in the land of the gods, he looked hale, though he lacked the otherworldly quality that he’d had on earth.
Perhaps because I am in his world now. She raised her bow, ashamed to feel her arm quiver. She swallowed, sighted down the shaft of the arrow he had given her.
Why would he not raise his bow? He just stood there, strong and still and calm like an oak.
“Raise your bow.” Her voice cracked under the strain. She had to kill him.
But she didn’t want to. She wanted to go to him and take one of their walks again. To talk and laugh and forget this terrible situation. Her brothers flashed through her mind again.
“Raise it!” He had to. She couldn’t shoot him if he didn’t at least raise his own bow. Something horrible started to rise in her chest, fighting with her determination. She could finish this. She could save her brothers. Her arm shook.
Damn it. She had to pull herself together. But as her breath tore in and out of her lungs, she realized that she… couldn’t. She wanted to scream, to tear at her hair, to return to earth and forget that she had ever met this man.
“Lower your bow, Andrasta.” His voice was too kind, his eyes too understanding.
It broke something within her, and her voice rose in a harsh sob. She released the arrow, pulling her bow to the left at the last moment so that the arrow thudded into an oak a dozen feet from him.
She collapsed to her knees as the darkness of what she’d done converged on her. She was here, in Otherworld, with no escape. If she didn’t destroy the soul of the man in front of her, her brothers would die. He’d brought her to this, by watching her. But she’d brought herself here too, when she’d confronted him in the forest and then spent so many hours with him that she’d grown to care for him.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him sit, prop his arms on his knees, and hang his head between his arms.
“Why didn’t you kill me right away?” Her voice broke. Would it have been preferable to this? Yes. She gripped her bow tighter, but it did nothing to soothe her.
“I… couldn’t.”
She looked up to see him staring down at his bow. He chucked it away, disgust and longing etched into his face. She watched the bow slam into a tree and crack in half. Her hand closed reflexively around her own bow.
“Why couldn’t you kill me? And why did you do that?”
He met her gaze, but didn’t answer her question. “You’ll be fine here. You’ll find your way. One day, you’ll be clever enough to sneak back to earth occasionally.”