Seren Nightshade's Arc

Chapter 14 of 26

The seat was whole, but Seren felt it wobble. Her old witch magic still lived under the new divinity, wild and unbound. It sparked at her fingertips without her asking. Kida saw it and stepped close. "You're seated, but you're not fixed," she whispered. "Any god here could pull that loose thread and unmake you. You need to bind the witch part before they try." Seren looked at the six gods watching her. She could not do the binding here, under their eyes. "Then leave," said a flat voice behind them. A woman stood in the arch where no one had opened a door. She wore black lace. A torch burned in her hand, though it lit nothing near her. Two black hounds sat at her feet, ears up, eyes on the six seated gods. Kida drew a sharp breath. "Hekate. Goddess of thresholds." The old goddess did not look at Kida. She looked at Seren, the way a locksmith looks at a lock. "You're half-cooked," Hekate said. "Loud. They'll hear you crack." She turned. "Follow. My hounds know the door." Seren followed. The hounds led them out and down, through passages Seren had not seen coming in. They came to a half-buried tower crusted with star dust. Its stones sparkled faint blue in the dark. Inside stood a black obsidian seat, sharp-edged and glossy. "No god senses this place," Hekate said. "It sits between. Bind here or don't bind at all." Ganzie pressed a braided cord into Seren's hand. Willow branches, twisted, hung with small triple-moon charms. "For the wild part," he said. "Amber told me it would hold it." Seren wrapped the cord around her wrist and stepped to the obsidian seat. Her witch magic snapped and pulled, fighting the leash. "Sit," Hekate said. "A throne binds what a spell can't." Seren sat. The stone was cold. She pressed the cord to her chest and spoke, half in the gods' tongue, half in the old witch words she had known since childhood. The two magics ground against each other. Sparks jumped off her skin. One hound growled low. Seren held the cord tighter and named the wild magic hers, not a thing beneath her but a thing inside her, bound to the seat under her. The sparks died. The wobble in her chest went still. Her divinity stopped leaking. The witch magic folded down and locked into the throne, quiet now, part of the seat itself. Seren opened her eyes. Hekate studied her, then gave one short nod. "Solid," she said. "They can't pull you now." But Hekate did not leave. Her hounds turned toward the passage and both began to growl at once. "Something followed us down," the old goddess said. "Not a god. Worse." The torch in her hand flared, showing what had just crossed the threshold behind them. Seren was bound and whole at last, and now she saw what her binding had drawn.