Fate Undone (The Mythean Arcana Series Book 5)

by Linsey Hall

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  When a gentle hand shook Sylvi’s shoulder, she had no idea how long she’d been on her knees in the grass, weeping. It was dark and stars still twinkled from the night sky. Logan was still gone.

  A warm little body rubbed against her side and she looked down to see the grumpy face of Chairman Meow. He looked concerned, as much as a cat could, as he nuzzled her thigh.

  “Sylvi, are you all right? What happened?” Esha crouched down in front of her.

  Vivienne knelt down next to Esha and peered into Sylvi’s face.

  “I think she’s in shock,” Vivienne whispered to Esha.

  Sylvi barely perceived the women in front of her. Part of it was shock, but she was pretty sure that it was also a bit of her memory loss. She’d been so concerned with Logan that she hadn’t paid as much attention to the memories that were slipping from her mind and leaving burning blank holes.

  “Do you think it’s her memory?” Vivienne asked.

  Yes. Yes, I do.

  “Could be. They were in the labyrinth for over twelve hours.” Esha cursed. “If only we could have gotten in!”

  Her friends had tried to come for her? These women were her friends, right? She couldn’t remember details, but she did feel happy to see them.

  She was just now starting to grasp that her memory was far more gone than she’d suspected. She’d lost it in bits and pieces, rather than chronologically as Logan had, and the damage was becoming more apparent as she searched her mind for things she thought she should know.

  Sylvi tried to fight back from the foggy despair that had fallen over her mind. Logan needed her. She needed to save him. She had to do something other than just sit here!

  Esha rubbed Sylvi’s shoulder. “Come on, love. Let’s get you up.”

  Sylvi nodded and reached out a hand so that Esha could help her stand.

  The earth rumbled and shook beneath her feet, knocking her sideways. Esha’s shocked face flashed before her eyes before something twined around her body and dragged her down. Down through the earth as dirt closed in around her.

  Panic clawed at her throat as she felt herself being transported through the aether.

  She slammed into the ground, every muscle in her body aching. When she opened her eyes, giant tree limbs rose high above her. Fear and rage streaked through her.

  Yggdrasil. Only one tree was this big. Heart in her throat, she leapt to her feet, drawing her staff from the aether. She spun to face the trunk, a mind-bogglingly huge column of wood that rose hundreds—no, thousands—of feet into the air.

  A figure slouched in a throne that was built into the base of the tree. Sylvi pointed her staff at him, but before she could attack, tree roots swept her up, wrapping tightly around her so that she could no longer point her staff, and carried her forward toward the personification of Yggdrasil.

  The Ancient One looked utterly exhausted, weak and frail, though the tree was still strong. As if his spirit was damaged but the true body was still powerful.

  She hated that the bastard still had power over her. She struggled against the branches, yelling, “What the hell is your problem?”

  The white robes that cloaked Yggdrasil’s slender human form were dingy, the androgynous face lined with exhaustion. Yet when the figure spoke, the words boomed through Sylvi’s body, sending a shiver through her.

  “You destroyed my labyrinth.”

  Rage snuffed out the fear that should have frozen her. The asshole had stolen Logan from her! And now, she couldn’t even escape Yggdrasil’s clutches. She fought to be free of the roots but couldn’t budge them. “It was an evil fucking place!”

  The figure’s features softened infinitesimally—not enough to relax her, but enough to lend thoughtfulness to Yggdrasil’s expression. “Perhaps you are right. I was blinded by the rot that has infested me from thousands of years of the gods’ greed and ambition and petty rivalries that diverted them from their true path of shepherding the mortals. The earth is not well. The gods are not well. And it made me unwell.”

  “What, so now you’re healed?” It enraged her that Logan’s sacrifice had gone toward this asshole. A small part of her knew that she should be more moderate and forgiving, but with Logan lost, she just couldn’t care.

  “No.” The figure wearily shook its head. “But I might be. Loki made a great sacrifice, one that might have given me the seeds of a cure. And it showed me the error of my ways. I put so much faith in Loki to rail against the gods—to put them in their place. He failed at that after he went to Midgard and I was disappointed. Bereft.” He paused, a thoughtful look on his face. “But in the end, he had to fight against me. To put me in my place. He succeeded after all. I am powerful, but not all powerful. I see now that perhaps it wasn’t my place to imprison the gods.”

  She so did not have time for Yggdrasil’s poetic musings about his purpose. Sylvi struggled so hard that she felt her shoulder pop. A blast of pain. It only fueled her rage. “I don’t fucking care! Give Logan his memory back! Give him back his will! His hope!”

  The figure’s eyes met hers, solemn and dark. “I cannot. The gift is given. And I would not. It is needed for the world more than it is needed by Loki.”

  Hot tears spilled from her eyes. She couldn’t escape. She couldn’t defeat the enormity that was the world tree, nor could she force it to return Logan to her.

  So she begged. “Please! I’ll do anything! Just give him back his memory! His hope and will!”

  “I cannot. But in his honor, I will make the labyrinth a place of good. You both have reminded me that things we want to remember are more important—and have more power—than the things we wish we could forget.”

  His honor? What good would that do them?

  “I created the labyrinth to destroy the memories of the gods, for what they had done to me, to this world, to all of us,” Yggdrasil said. “But you healed that place by using the gifts of the Triumvirate. The heart, the knowledge, and the life reflected the intent and the will of those who used them. You turned it from a place of misery to a place of joy. I’ll make it into a place of memories for the souls that have left the world, so they do not forget its light, and so that we do not forget their light.”

  Shock hit Sylvi. “Wait, what? They don’t need a new place. They go to their afterworlds.”

  What a cocky idea, thinking that souls would prefer his labyrinth to the afterworld of the faith they’d practiced when they were mortal. She hated this damned tree.

  “I mean the souls of those who don’t make it to an afterworld,” Yggdrasil said. “Those who are meant for reincarnation, whose souls wait in the aether to be reborn. Now they may go from nothing, to something. They’ll spend their time in the labyrinth—which is no longer a true labyrinth—and await their rebirth. The dead afterworld of Moloch will have purpose again.”

  A shiver of appreciation ran through Sylvi. She still hated him, but it was a nice idea. There were hundreds, if not thousands, of souls who awaited rebirth. Her friend Diana, the reincarnate of Boudicca, had been one of them. Boudicca’s daughters might be the same.

  “It’s not a totally shit idea,” she said. “But I’d rather you return Logan’s gifts to him.”

  “I cannot. Loki has what he needs. His spirit is out there, free of pain, free of Ragnarok. His life has been pain, and torture, and endless struggle. If you love him, then you must know his heart—he is free.”

  “That. Is. Bullshit.” She spat the words at him. “It reflects your desires more than his and it is fucking bullshit.”

  “Perhaps,” Yggdrasil said wearily. “But it is all I have to say.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  A second later, Sylvi was sprawled in the same place on the university grounds from which Yggdrasil had stolen her. Her friends were gone, no doubt trying to find her.

  Logan was gone. She wept into the dirt, unable to process anything other than grief. More than anything, she wished she could remember all of their time toget
her. But there were blank holes that her soul grasped for.

  The night was black around her, the stars all gone behind clouds. She had half a memory and nothing but tears. How was she supposed to be able to save him?

  The faintest rustling noise drew her eye upward. A black bird circled overhead, rising to the sky. His black feathers were soon lost in the dark night.

  Logan?

  Her chest throbbed at the thought.

  It couldn’t be. He’d flown away. And he had no memory of her, so he wouldn’t be here.

  Her only hope of restoring him was to get him back his memory, and that was hopeless. Why hadn’t she forgiven him sooner? She should have realized why he was pushing her away and stayed.

  True, he never should have pushed her away, but she should have gotten over her fucking pride and forgiven him.

  But she’d never been any good at forgiveness. All her time in Asgard, she’d held herself to such a high standard in her attempts to ascend to godhood that she’d started to hold others to that high standard as well. She hadn’t even been able to forgive her own mother, for fate’s sake.

  She blinked.

  Freya. Of course Freya would be able to help her with this. Freya, among her many titles, was the goddess of memory. The raven Munin, whose name meant memory, sat upon her shoulder while the raven Hunin, whose name meant thought, sat upon her husband Odin’s shoulder.

  Her mother had tried to contact her over the years, but Sylvi had ignored her. She’d been so angry with her for not defending her against the other gods when they’d evicted her from Asgard. But for Logan, she’d go on her hands and knees to Freya.

  Sylvi sat, every muscle in her body aching. She had to get to Asgard, which meant she’d need Vivienne’s help. When she’d been evicted, the gods had taken away her ability to aetherwalk home. But Vivienne had the power to aetherwalk into any afterworld. She could take her.

  With hands trembling with fatigue and nerves, Sylvi withdrew her phone from her pocket and dialed Vivienne’s number. Minutes later, they met in the cobblestone courtyard near the Praesidium. Esha and a blond woman that Sylvi recognized but couldn’t place came with her. The knowledge that the blond woman’s identity was erased from her memory sent a shiver down Sylvi’s spine.

  All three hugged her.

  “What the hell happened to you?” Esha asked.

  “It’s a long story. I’ll have to tell you later. I need to go see my mother.”

  Esha’s brows shot up, a nonverbal You have a mother?

  Sylvi ignored it and turned to Vivienne. “Can we go?”

  Vivienne nodded and wrapped her arms around Sylvi. A second later, she stood in the flower-filled courtyard outside of her mother’s home.

  Her heart suddenly ached with a homesickness she hadn’t felt in centuries. This had been her home and Freya, her mother. Overwhelming feelings of loss and love bombarded her. Perhaps she hadn’t forgiven others not just because of her own high standards for the conduct of others, but because it hurt too much not to be angry.

  Anger was better than pain.

  She tried her best to repress everything that was bubbling up in her chest and turned to Vivienne. “Thank you. I can get home from here. They’re sure to kick me out when this is all over.”

  “Okay. Good luck.” Vivienne squeezed her arm, then disappeared.

  Sylvi turned back to the courtyard, marveling at the expanse of beautiful gray stone and the elegant building in front of her. Flowers tumbled along the edges of the courtyard and a creek burbled by.

  She made her way slowly across the courtyard. What was she going to say to her mother? I’m sorry for ignoring you for eight hundred years, please save my love, the god you hate?

  Before she could dwell on it any longer, a slender figure rushed from the front entrance. A brilliant blue cloak flew from her shoulders and her golden hair glinted in the sun. A black raven—Muninnn—flew in her wake.

  Mother.

  Freya threw herself into Sylvi’s arms and squeezed her tight. “I knew you would change your mind!”

  “You did?” Sylvi asked when Freya pulled back. Tears glinted in her eyes and Sylvi realized that her own eyes were wet as well. She caught sight of Muninn sitting on a rock several feet away.

  “Eventually you had to forgive me. I’m sorry we evicted you.” Freya squeezed Sylvi’s arms to emphasize her point. “I truly had no power to stop it once all the other gods had decided.”

  Sylvi swallowed hard. Her mother was right, of course. In her pain and anger, Sylvi hadn’t wanted to think of such things. She’d been so young then and the sun had risen and set on Freya. But Freya was no greater than the other gods.

  The consequences of her inability to forgive were becoming more apparent. But if she could forgive Logan, of course she could forgive her mother. And apologize, though the concept would have seemed foreign to her even ten minutes ago.

  “I’m so sorry I ignored your requests for contact for so long. And that I was so angry with you. I see now that you had no choice.”

  “Of course. Come inside.” Freya turned and tugged on Sylvi’s hand.

  Sylvi resisted. “I can’t. I want to, one day. So that we can catch up. But I need your help now.”

  “Anything.” Sincerity gleamed in Freya’s eyes.

  The whole terrible story spilled from Sylvi’s lips. Freya’s eyes grew wide.

  When Sylvi finished her tale, Freya said, “You truly do deserve the godhood that has been denied you.”

  “I don’t want it,” Sylvi said. “I want you to return Loki’s memory to him. Muninn can do it.”

  Freya’s face fell. “I’m sorry, Sylvi. Muninn cannot. When a memory is gone from a person, it is gone.”

  “What?” Sylvi’s lungs struggled for air. A boulder surely pressed upon her chest. “No, of course Muninn can return Loki’s memories.”

  Freya gripped her arms. “I’m sorry. So sorry. But Muninn cannot do this.”

  Sylvi felt her knees buckle and managed to stiffen them right before she fell over. Logan’s memories were truly gone? Sucked from his soul?

  “I’m so sorry, daughter.” Tears spilled from Freya’s eyes. “Perhaps you can make new memories with him?”

  “He doesn’t even remember himself. He’s in his falcon form. He’s lost to me.”

  Her mother watched her with thoughtful eyes. “He might not be,” she said slowly. “You have the power within you to return his memories, I think.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I’m not entirely sure. But I can see it. The ability is within you. Only you can determine what exactly that means.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Sylvi returned to her home a short while later after promises to Freya that they would see each other again. Her mother hadn’t been able to tell her any more about her strange pronouncement and Sylvi was having a hard time taking hope in her odd words. The stern taskmaster that she’d known when she’d been Freya’s protégé had softened with time. Though she should be happy about the reconciliation—and deep down, she was—she just couldn’t dredge up the joy that would be normal in this situation.

  Her chest felt utterly empty as she made her way to her cottage. When she let herself inside, she was assailed by memories of Logan. Why was it that she’d lived here so long alone, yet now all she could remember was him?

  And worse, there were blank spots in her memory that told her there were things she didn’t remember about him. She wanted to assume they were bad things, but the ache in her heart told her that no, the love she felt for him was strong enough that there was nothing dark about him missing from her memory. And she remembered many ways that he annoyed her or had pissed her off in the past.

  Yet she still loved him.

  Her tears started to fall in earnest by the time she made her way to the bathroom. Through bleary vision, she drew a bath in the old porcelain tub and climbed into the steaming water. She just wanted to lie here and weep, then, ideally, disappea
r into nothing.

  Logan’s memories had been stolen from him. Torn from his soul and thrust into nothingness. For the rest of her life, her own soul would reach out for someone who had forgotten her, torn apart by the memories and shadows that now haunted her. Her love was lost on the wind, his soul free, but not in the way he would have wanted. Or the way that she wanted.

  She wept. Her soul ached for his.

  She opened her eyes and sat up, her hand pressed to her chest. It throbbed, like a second heartbeat within her. His soul. Hope and fear dawned.

  It was within her. Like her mother had said.

  When she’d saved him all those years ago, she’d given him part of her soul to help him escape his bonds. And she’d taken part of his in return.

  She scrambled out of the bath and dragged her clothes on, not stopping to dry herself. She had no idea how she would find him, not when he was a bird flying far away, but she’d search for him for as long as it took.

  Because now she had the answer. It felt right in all the ways her other ideas never had.

  She ran from the cottage into the early dawn light. Though she personally didn’t have any type of magic that would help her locate him, she’d go to every witch, sorceress, shaman, and priestess in this world and all the afterworlds until she found a spell that would lead her to Logan.

  She turned toward the witches’ courtyard to start her journey, then stopped dead.

  That same rustling noise sounded overhead. She’d heard it right before she’d gone to Freya. Sylvi glanced up.

  Above her, circling in the pale dawn light, was a black falcon.

  Logan.

  A harsh sob broke from her chest. The falcon spotted her and swooped down. Just before landing, he turned into a man.

  Logan. Her love stood before her.

  She threw herself against him and wrapped her arms around him. He didn’t hug her in return. She drew back. There was confusion—and perhaps even love—on his face. But no recognition. His mind was still gone, but he was drawn to her.

  She withdrew her staff from the aether, then gripped his arm and closed her eyes, recalling the spell she’d cast so many years ago. She took a shuddering breath and searched deep within herself, locating the scrap of his soul that she’d taken for her own. Using everything in her, she forced it back into his body. It would reignite the larger part of his soul, breathing life into what was forgotten.