Throne of Fire (Celestra Forever After Book 5) by Addison Moore
“You can’t trust her, Skyla. You can trust me. I’m always on your side.” Her body—her soul disintegrates to nothing, and the horse sinks into the fog as if it were a part of its chemical makeup all along.
“I don’t get the whole choking horse thing,” I say as I take up my mother’s hand.
“Rory specializes in terror. The horse was mine. I paid to have it boarded not far from the home I shared with your father. I rode him the afternoon I lost her. She has never forgiven poor Shaddai. She lives to make him suffer.”
“Shaddai?” I pull back. “That’s the name of Gage’s dominion.” My fingers lift to my lips. His name felt like a grievance uttered. I never want to say it again. “Shaddai means of God. He is still of God.”
“El Shaddai is the generic name of the Master,” she corrects. “The definition of Shaddai as far as your enemies’ realm is concerned is destroyer. He is the destroyer, Skyla. It is only fitting.”
Her words knife right through me. They are as unbreakable as this new reality. I turn to my mother fully taking up her other hand as well.
“You knew he wouldn’t live seven years. And you certainly knew he would break the peace treaty before it ever began, didn’t you?”
“I had an inkling. But the path to the future is a slippery swivel. He certainly could have done so, and for your sake—for your people, for my own, I had gifted him the opportunity. His father paid to have him hacked down in his prime. Not I. Certainly not the Master. It was murder, my love. I assure that much is true.”
“Then was it wrong of me to hold Dominique culpable?”
“The one who sheds blood is found wanting.”
“And me? Am I found wanting?”
“You, my love, are covered with the blood, washed clean with just one righteous drop.” She swings our hands between us. “Bloodshed in wartime is not calculated as it is when the heart holds murderous intent.”
My chest bucks with grief, with relief. “And Gage?” His name trembles over my lips like poison, like a salve all in one.
Her icy eyes bear hard into mine. “This is war, Skyla. He will slaughter the world to maintain his victorious hold. You have a worthy opponent in him and he in you.”
My gaze falls to the ground. I’m not sure I believe or accept her words. I take in a quick breath, my resolve building slowly. “Marshall and Delphinius. I want them pardoned.”
“There is nothing to pardon. Sector Marshall was acting fully in line with the rules delineated to him. Any malfeasance on his earthly property is subject for use of his powers in any manner possible to stifle bloodshed.”
“In that case, every gathering on Paragon should be held at his estate.” A weak smile dares to quiver on my lips, dissipating like a candle in the wind. “What about Emerson? She wasn’t utilized in getting Kresley back. Do you want her? Can she stay?”
“She can and she will. She will be utilized, Skyla, by you. You’ll know exactly what to do with her when the time is right.”
“We bound the Spectators in—”
“Tenebrous.” She lifts her chin. “Do you wish to have your powers back?”
“Yes. Now. I demand you to restore them,” I say it softly but mean every word.
A gentle laugh bubbles in her chest. “Your powers will be restored at the right time and no sooner. There are still lessons to be learned, hard truths that will puncture your heart like a very sharp knife. In your darkest hour, the final unraveling, only then will I reevaluate.”
She turns away, walking methodically toward the ocean, its roaring fury ready to devour her in its angry white arms.
“Wait!” I call after her. “This is my darkest hour! I need them now.” My God, it cannot get darker.
“Go home, Skyla. The boys need their mother.”
“Can I get a lift?” I call out. The Landon house is a twenty-minute walk at least, and the scent of ozone is quickly filling the air as the clouds ready to piss all over the island once again. But my mother continues to stride past the waves and all their fury, walking over water, never doubting her own abilities—so beautifully sure of all she is destined to achieve. In this moment, I want nothing more than to be like her. I will be. I am.
The palm fronds rustle from the love hut Gage fashioned for the two of us all those years ago when we were so young and disillusioned at what the future would hold, our dreams for a better tomorrow nothing more solid than the sand beneath my feet.
A figure emerges from the shadows, and my breathing ceases. I can’t see him. I’m not ready. I don’t think I’ll ever be.
But it’s not him. It’s her.
“Chloe,” I whisper mostly to myself.
“Don’t sound so happy to see me.” She reels her way over like a drunkard as she attempts to run in the sand, her dark hair bouncing like a demon sitting over her head. “We did it, Skyla. We battled those fuckers and contained them. Brody told me everything.” She comes up panting, her hair wildly rising into the sky, her eyes wide and dark but not soulless, not tonight. Chloe has a strange vitality pumping through her veins at the moment.
“You’re gloating,” I call her on it.
“I can’t help it. If I can’t have him, neither should you.”
I turn as we walk away from the beach and up onto the main highway that leads to home for both of us.
“I lost everything, Chloe. Celestra has lost its standing and so have the Sectors. The Factions have disbanded. I can number my people on one hand.”
“You haven’t lost me.” She slings an arm over my shoulder. “I’m here. I may not like you, but I’m on your side, Skyla.”
“Then I should really reevaluate my position.” My head tips toward her, stealing a moment of rest over her arm.
“Don’t worry. You will. I know you, Messenger. You love Gage almost as much as I do. You’ll do something stupid before you ever do something right. You’ll fall first, but I’ll be there to catch you.”
“Wow, I appreciate the confidence you have in me. You’re really blowing up my ego, Chloe.”
“But I’ll be there to stop you as well. Don’t you worry, Skyla. I won’t let you make another fucking mistake. I saw your sister. Can she morph into anyone? I think we can use her.”
“I know nothing about her or her morphing capabilities. My mother says I can’t trust her. And she said I can’t trust my mother.”
“You can trust me.” She gives my hair a friendly tug.
“No, I can’t.”
“You’re right. See there? You passed the first test. You and I are going to get Celestra back where it belongs.” She pauses as the wind whips through our hair with marked violence. “The Counts are gloating. The Transfer is lit like an out of control frat party.”
“Poor Laken.”
“She opted to spend the night at Coop’s with her kid. Probably a smart move. She wants to help him recover from surgery.”
“Then Wes isn’t celebrating.” A pinprick of satisfaction stirs in me.
“Are you kidding? Wes is still licking his balls. I watched Coop invert them. The way he was kicking Spectator ass tonight even got me aroused. Laken was taking notes, and it has Wes shaking in his Steel Barricade boots.” Chloe glows at the thought.
“Maybe there’s hope for the future yet.”
“Maybe.”
I take in a breath of fresh Paragon air. We’re on the other side of midnight. It’s already a new day.
“Brielle switched sides,” I say. “Demetri bailed her and Drake out of their financial nightmare.”
“Brielle is a little bitch.”
A giggle brews in my chest, and it feels like a relief.
Chloe joins me, and we shed a dull laugh for about six good feet.
“I hate that people died, Chloe. I don’t think I should ever be allowed to laugh again.”
“You’ll live for them. We both will. We’re turning this into something beautiful. We’ll laugh for Celestra, for the Factions as they used to be. As they will be again.”
“We’ll bleed for them first.”
“Yeah.” She pulls me in closer. “But spilling a little of our own blood is worth it.”
I look over at her as the rain starts to pelt us with its affection. “What did you mean by I’ll fall first? How can I possibly fall any further than I have? And how the hell would you know?”
“Em showed me. You’ll see. If I’m right—if she’s right. You haven’t seen anything yet.”
Chloe said she’d be there to catch me.
I’m certain the sentiment isn’t what it seems. For as much as Chloe and I share an end goal to see Celestra in its rightful place, Chloe isn’t out to catch me when I fall. Is she?
By the time I arrive home, the house is quiet, still, save for the horny giggling emanating from Mia’s bedroom. The boys are snug in their cribs sleeping so beautifully sound, I watch them for an inordinate amount of time. Twin versions of the man who stole my heart. The thief who stole so much more than I ever wanted to give him. How beautiful the lie was. How beautiful every memory of who we were still is.
Finally, I hit the sheets still in my ridiculous costume. My hair and flesh still caked in mud. I’ll have to wash the bedding, burn it. My head lands on something hard, and I lean up and inspect it as the moon gently washes the room with a breath of light. A book and a stone sit side by side.
Can’t breathe. Tears blur my vision. The tears that I’ve been trying to hold back like a dam are about to take over. My entire body melts with grief. I’m finally alone, finally able to show my true feelings, the fear, the disbanding of the fantasy of who we were, the utter guttural heartbreak. So unfathomable, unbearable, unacceptable.
My hand floats to the stone first. The stone my mother gifted me like a curse. Gage must have placed it here when he came home to change, and my heart spikes with promise before reality sinks in. There will be no peace. Gage knew it going into this evening, perhaps as far back as the day he agreed to it. But does he still want something with me? Or is this his way of apologizing—perhaps more to the point, giving me the finger?
I slide the buttery stone onto the nightstand next to me. I may never know. But I pull the book to the light. An old composition notebook that I’ve seen Gage hovering over more times than not when he gets a free second. It’s his book of poems, and my heart wrenches as tears come quickly. I open the first page.
Skyla,
I never meant to hurt you. These words are my heart poured out and forged in the meager shape of letters, forming sentences that can only remotely convey how I feel for you. May you find solitude in them, and, perhaps, one day peace. You will always be the love of my life.
For always.
Nothing and no one will change how I feel.
Yours forever, Gage
And just like that, the dam bursts forth and I shed tears for who we were, for those sweet versions of us at West who clung to one another, who fought fearlessly by one another’s sides. Who took trips together and schemed to lose their virginity together. Who shared one too many oven-hot kisses. Who stole one another’s hearts without meaning to. Who fell hopelessly, endlessly in love. Who eagerly bonded their souls in a covenant with God so that the world would feel whole and right. Who tolerated too much from one another’s parents. Who had a mishap one night in bed and had the most amazing children, who spent hours in this very bed bonding skin to skin with those two perfect beings. Who spent far more hours skin to skin loving one another with our own bodies, heated and tangled into a holy perfection. Who would have died for one another. Who would have fought their way back from death and did.
Tears pour from me like rain, rivaling anything the Paragon sky could ever hope to deliver. My heart aches with such agony I’d give anything to carve it out and bury it to stave off this immeasurable pain.
How did it all go so wrong, Gage?
How was Chloe right?
How were you ever my well-placed boyfriend? How did the enemy pierce my heart with the sharpest arrow? You and I were perfection. And we shared perfect love. But that was before the fall.
When did I lose you? My sweet, sweet husband who will always have a home in my heart. The boy who blinded me with his smile and his eyes, who buried my heart in his dimples. The one person I wouldn’t have denied anything. I could never have fathomed, I could never have predicted how far we would fall. I miss you so deeply. This incurable ache hurts so damn much. How can you revel at the hour of our demise? Isn’t your heart broken, too? I’m crying rivers—enough tears for the both of us. You loved me, Gage Oliver. How dare you stop. I’m not sure I ever can. I have caged myself in on this runaway train. You are my ride or die, Gage. If only death would take us to a better place, we could leave this nightmare behind. How did we go from wishing on stars, to riding a comet straight to hell? We were perfect, Gage. Ours was a perfect love.
How could you destroy it?
How could you cut the ground from beneath me, steal my heart, and leave me with a notebook full of empty words? Cheap parchment. A stone in my bed.
How could you?
My body bucks with grief as I clutch his pillow, knowing that thick beautiful hair of his will never grace it again. My hand swims over his side of the bed—empty now forever more. Gage had severed ties with me, burned us to the ground right along with my people. He made quick work of my downfall, cutting me off at the knees, upturning my world in an instant. He chose sides. I wasn’t even a consideration. He declared war on my people as much as he did my heart. He set the memory of who we were on fire and let this world and the next watch us burn. We have been reduced to heated ashes, scalding embers still floating through the air, dangerous and threatening.
Gage and I were perfect until we weren’t. No in between, just love and hate. I can’t wrap my head around either, instead I’m forced to drink down the pain as I cry myself to sleep.
That night I dream of Rockaway, of Gage and me dancing over ebony sand. He is licking my wounds, wiping away my tears, kissing me deeply, kissing me darkly. His entire body whispers we can never go back. We will never be the same.
Gage and I are dizzy from dancing, falling over the sand, making love under the moon and stars above.
It feels so right.
None of it is real.
Gage
The celebrations are egregious. The nightmare stretches out before me, never-ending, never something of my own volition. I had accomplished my goal. Secured my eternal standing with Skyla. Nothing would stand in my way. But I marvel at how swiftly I had done it, and it occurs to me that this victory was only possible with the ferocity I brought to the table. Demetri played every card he was dealt with wicked expertise. He planted me in front of Skyla—between Skyla and Logan. He knocked out pieces to this chess game with unmatched proficiency. We are the victors. Never again will Celestra prosper. Never again will the Fems fear their eternal fate. Dudley comes to mind, and I groan hard and loud.
Demetri and Wes head my way, hovering until I’m left staring at their nostrils, and I force my legs to swing over the edge of the bed. Demetri took me to his newly restored disaster. It took three days for my wounds to heal, more or less—for my powers to restore themselves. That spirit sword Skyla wielded did some serious damage, much more than I would have guessed it could do. Demetri fetched leaves from the Tree of Life for me. I’ll have to travel there myself to eat of the fruit. At the end of the day, I’m left with what amounts to a sore throat. But I kept the scar, a seam of skin that runs clear across my neck. I wanted to. A love letter from Skyla written over my flesh. It says I love you enough to stop you from yourself. My heart is another matter. There isn’t enough healing in heaven to restore the brokenness inside of me.
“You’ll push through this.” Demetri nods. “She’ll come back to you. She’s on the verge. She will be your final conquest.”
A thump of a laugh moves through me. I don’t say a word. There are no words left to say. Having Skyla abandon her people would be tantamount to spending an eternity i
Wes nods me over to the balcony, and I follow him out to a dark and starless Paragon night. The fog chokes me with its presence as if doing its best to smother me. It’s been five days. No contact with Skyla or the boys. No contact with anyone. I’m not sure I can do it. I’ve come this far, did what I set out to do, but my feet will move no further.
My brother leans against the balusters, those familiar brows of his knotted up with concern. “Let me be the first to say you’re going to make it.” He gives my arm a light tap. “You’ve impressed the hell out of me, and that’s not an easy thing to do. You came in like a racehorse doused in gasoline and lit the match yourself. You got it done, and you will forever be my hero for that. You did in one night what I tried for years to do. You, Gage Oliver, are the man. But I know that Skyla is your heart.” He digs his gaze into mine. “I know that. She’s your everything, just the way Laken is mine.”
Laken. She’s back in the Transfer with him. She spent one night at Coop’s place, and I thought Wes was going to drown the world. He could no more celebrate that night than I could. But the pieces to his world fell quickly back into place. Mine—well, my puzzle isn’t even on the table anymore.
“She’ll come around.” He shakes his head like maybe she won’t. “She’s in deep, just like you are. And when she does, don’t do anything stupid that you’ll live to regret.” His features harden to stone, his muscles shaking ever so slightly as if to drive the point home. “You will get one shot. Do not blow it. Seize the moment without hesitation. Do not let her write a story with someone else. Take what’s rightfully yours, Gage.” His nostrils flare as he shoots a glance to the room with Demetri in it. “Do not let them win.” A jag of lightning illuminates the sky, and Wes straightens, his gaze set right at the location where it struck. A moment pulses by. “Who are we kidding, Gage? You and I both know Skyla won’t fight once she learns you’re destined to go straight to hell. If the two of you get back together, she’ll turn a blind eye to her people and you’ll hate yourself for it. You’ll have her love again in eternity. Life is just the blink of an eye anyhow.” His hand falls over my shoulder. His jaw flinches as if he isn’t telling the truth. “I’m sorry, man. I really am.”