Andrasta smiled. “I think so. You did well today.”
Diana nodded her thanks. She’d be able to appreciate the compliment better once she was out of Erebus.
“You showed uncommon wisdom, as I did so many years ago. You also showed mercy.”
Diana shook her head. “No, not mercy. The boy had nothing to do with my daughters’ deaths. I shouldn’t have killed him in my past life. I just wanted to undo that wrong.”
Andrasta smiled. “I see. Well, be that as it may, it is because of that action that I am permitted to offer you a choice.”
Diana looked at her quizzically.
“Your soul is immortal, Diana, as is everyone’s. But yours is particularly strong. Possibly because of how long you waited to be reborn, or possibly because of who you are and the decisions you’ve made. Maybe a little of both. Because of it, you have a choice.”
A chill passed over Diana as she waited for her to continue, almost lightheaded from holding her breath. Would this choice get her out of hell?
“The strongest souls cling to earth. It’s the center of all of our worlds, the birthplace of the beliefs that make the heavens and the hells exist. As such, you’ll live the rest of your mortal life on earth as everyone else does.”
Diana nodded gratefully as her heart leapt. It sounded like she was going home. She’d died by coming here, but she had a second chance.
Andrasta wasn’t finished. “Because of the strength of your soul, upon your death your soul will continue to be reborn to earth, most probably with your memories intact. Or…” She paused. “You can choose to remain with this body forever.”
“You’d make me a Mythean?” Diana’s heart clutched.
“We wouldn’t make you anything,” the goddess corrected her gently. “You’ve made yourself what you are. We would just give you the opportunity to choose this body and this consciousness to house your soul as long as it should exist.”
Diana’s mind reeled. To be on earth for hundreds, maybe thousands of years? Did she want that?
Yes. She could be with Cadan. Never to sicken and die, to stay young and strong as he had. If her soul was going to be reborn anyway, wouldn’t it be better to stay intact as she was?
“Yes. I want that.” The words came in a rush. “Wait. Could I ever die?”
The idea of living forever with no escape was terrifying. She assumed it would be a good life, but shouldn’t she know all the details first?
“Your body would be made strong in the way of the Mythean Guardians. Only incredibly grievous injury could kill you. But you would be reborn as if you had died of old age. There’s no getting around that part. It’s the nature of your soul.”
Diana felt as if she were about to step off a precipice. Dare she? There really was only one choice. “All right. This is what I want.”
Andrasta nodded. “Wise. I’d take it if I were in your position.”
“Really?” How surprising. “But you’re a goddess.”
“I was mortal first. I miss earth.” She looked younger then, lonely in a way that a goddess shouldn’t be. Diana wanted to ask, but more than anything she wanted to get out of Erebus.
She ignored her guilt, and instead asked, “How will I get home?”
“I’ll see to it.” Andrasta gave a small smile and reached out to touch her shoulder.
***
Vivienne was floating in the sea. Or in the clouds. She wasn’t sure. Her body felt both weightless and heavy, her mind a calm, joyful serenity. Had she died? The horror of the past few days or months or years—she had no idea how long it had been—was a distant, foggy memory.
But Diana. Where was Diana? Vivienne could only hold onto the thought for the barest second before the calm joy replaced it. She stared into the whiteness above her, wondering if it was made of clouds.
“Vivienne.” A sweet voice echoed from behind her.
Weightlessly, Vivienne shifted to find the voice. A woman stood behind her, tall and dark-haired. She looked vaguely familiar. “Am I in heaven?”
“No.” The figure laughed lightly.
“You’re not God, then?”
“No, certainly not. I’m your mother.”
Vivienne would have been shocked if she hadn’t been riding this false morphine high. Instead, she felt the purest quiet joy.
“You’re dead. You died giving birth to me.”
“No. I’m a Sila. We’re a type of Jinn, an Arabic spirit that’s unusually intelligent and can shapeshift. My body can’t stay on earth for extended periods of time, which is why I had to leave you when you were a baby. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.” Her dark eyes were heavy with sadness.
“Wait, what?”
“I would have stayed, if I could. But you had your father.”
“He’s dead now.” The piercing sensation she’d normally get when she thought of her father was dulled by the morphine feeling of being in this white cloud.
“I know he’s gone from earth. I see him, now that he’s on the other side.”
“He’s happy?”