Despite its many terrible flaws that had been exposed, it had been a good life. Regardless of what Vittoria said, I knew she’d been happy, too. We’d been surrounded by love and light. We had a family who cared for us and a community. We’d had each other.
As far as curses went, ours wasn’t hateful. Unlike Wrath, who’d had his heart proverbially torn from him and was then forced to feel hate in place of love, we’d forgotten everything of our past. All our schemes. Our thirst for vengeance. We had been given a new set of memories that might have been filled with fear of the devil and his wicked brothers, but it wasn’t all bad.
Domenico cut a look my way. “You don’t have to be quiet now. We’re far enough away.”
“It’s a lot to sort through.”
For the first time since we’d met in the Shadow Realm, the werewolf seemed to understand and sympathize. Which, I supposed he did. His world had altered as irrevocably not too long before. He’d adjusted, though he still seemed hostile about it. Perhaps that was the alpha magic still wreaking havoc on him until he matured. Or maybe he resented being a shifter.
“Eventually, you’ll learn to focus on the present and let the past go.” He guided us down a side street I knew well. “Reliving what could have been but never will be is pointless. It’ll only hold you back from what you are. One of the hardest things anyone can do is live in the here and now. Not worry about the future, not rehash the past. Be present, that’s the secret to changing your future. To finding true happiness.”
I mulled that over. “Are you happy?”
“Sometimes.” Domenico lifted a shoulder. “It’s better than when I first found out… everything.”
“How is your father? He seemed worried but proud last time I spoke to him.”
The shifter stiffened for a beat, then kept walking, his long strides eating up the cobbled path. Almost as if he wished to run away from the question. “Dead.”
My own steps faltered. I didn’t want to press on a wound that was clearly fresh, but I needed to know. “Did my sister—”
“Of course not.” Domenico spun on his heel, his eyes flashing pale purple. He immediately glanced around, making sure no humans had seen, then visibly strained to rein his emotions in. “Your sister had nothing to do with it.”
“What about demons?”
“What about them?” Domenico asked.
“Did this have to do with Greed?”
At the mention of Greed’s name, the wolf’s claws shot out. “It was pack business. Leave it at that.”
I held my hands up in a gesture of peace, and the werewolf resumed his forward trek through the neighborhood bordering ours. Unwittingly, Domenico had given me two answers I’d been looking for. If Vittoria was really hell-bent on creating a larger rift between wolves and demons, killing a pack member would have been a prime opportunity. And the alpha had a large emotional reaction to Greed’s name.
My focus shifted from my twin and the wolf issues and latched onto the road we’d just turned down. I stopped walking, unable to pick one foot up and place it in front of the other again. Near the end of the street sat our family home.
Vines curled up and around the trellis, the pale stone gleaming in the moonlight. It was beautiful. Untouched. It had continued on as if nothing had changed at all. My mouth was suddenly parched. Of all the places Vittoria could go, this carved deep.
“My sister is in our house.”
Domenico shook his head. “Look closer.”
“I don’t—” The corner of our house shimmered, lifting slightly at the edges. Like an invisible page had been placed over the whole structure and had come loose in a breeze. My pulse pounded, and I stepped back, shaking my head. “No. No, no. Not this, too. Please.”
Vittoria was suddenly in front of me, her hair blowing from that same magical wind that was now tearing pieces of our house away. “Demand to see its truth, Emilia.”
“I cannot—”
“Yes. You can and you will,” Vittoria said. “Look at the truth.”
My eyes burned as tears prickled behind my lids. This was the final blow, and I refused to allow one single tear to fall. Enough. Something inside me snapped. I was tired of sadness and devastation. I was over all the endless lies and manipulations and days and nights spent crying. My twin was right. I deserved to know the truth, to see it once and for all.
My spine straightened as I set my attention back on our unassuming home. I called forth my magic’s source and aimed it straight at the shimmering part. “Show me the truth.”
My voice echoed with power just like when I’d cast a truth spell. Magic whipped out and sank into the exterior walls like claws, shredding and ripping apart the illusion. I watched impassively as the facade was stripped away, revealing a stone temple.
Our home was glamoured. And I’d never known, never sensed the magic that had been used. Because Nonna kept us ignorant. The truth didn’t break my heart this time; it made me furious. There was no coming back from this deception. A line of demarcation had been drawn—the Emilia before her entire world shattered, and the goddess of fury after all had been revealed.
“What else?” I demanded, gaze fixed on our so-called home. “What else has been an elaborate illusion? A fucking lie.”
“I’ll leave you two.” Domenico quietly entered the temple, not sparing either me or Vittoria a second glance. I braced myself for the final betrayal I sensed was coming.
“This is not truly Sicily.” Vittoria exhaled. My attention finally left the house that wasn’t our home to settle on my twin. For once, she seemed pained. “Welcome to the Shifting Isles.”
EIGHTEEN
I flinched as if I’d received a physical blow.
I’d thought I’d felt the worst sting of betrayal when I’d learned my grandmother used dark magic to murder innocent witches to bind us. This was agony. Unrelenting, torturous, emotional agony. Vittoria said nothing as the initial shock slowly began to wear off.
“The Shifting Isles.” This was why she told me to meet her here, that night in the spirit realm. I glanced down the street, stomach twisting. It was all a lie. Every last part of it. Down to the very world I thought I knew. No wonder Wrath hadn’t wanted to say more when I’d asked about the isles. It was something I had to discover on my own. I was grateful no princes could travel here now. I needed time and space to reconcile just how much had been kept from me without the demons around.
I’d once asked Wrath where mortal souls were sent, and he’d vaguely spoken of an island off the western shore of the Seven Circles. Given the map lesson my sister had shown me the last time I saw her, this location definitely fit that description.
“This is where mortal souls are sent.” I didn’t ask, but Vittoria nodded. “The prison of damnation.”
“Yes.” My sister’s voice was quiet, soft. As if she sensed my power was searching for anyone to latch onto. To punish. Or maybe there was some human part of her left after all. A part that understood how deeply this particular wound went. “Some would consider this to be the worst of the circles. The island shifts time and place. Becomes the reality you choose it to be. Or the reality someone else chooses. For a time.”