“Not so fast,” a voice called from beyond the trees.

Not more, Alys thought bitterly.

The source of the voice was a figure standing at the trees. Alys recognized the old elf immediately. Rey pointed a gnarled finger to the sky and Alys involuntarily looked over her shoulder. Just like that night so long ago, the sky was opening up. It parted in a jagged, angry line, the very space tearing apart like paper. A giant stepped in view just beyond the tear. It was a woman, as big as the sky itself. She had silver locks and skin as dark as the night. Her eyes glowed a pale grey like the moon. The sight of the goddess always took the breath right from Alys’s lungs. A heavy pit of dread formed in her chest.

The noise of Alys’s pursuers died as well. Being of the night goddess’s children, they all fell to their knees in reverence. The only vampire brave enough to keep watching was Master Ivar, a thin, hollow cheeked man. He was filled with shock and overwhelming devotion for his goddess, but he had to watch. His eyes remained glued to Alys and her child.

Leda set her glowing eyes onto Alys. “Oath breaker,” she said. Her voice boomed like thunder. It shook the trees around them. The toddler in Alys’s arms started to wail loudly. Her mother pulled her close, shielding her from all the people who were trying to take her away.

“I won’t let my daughter be a sacrifice,” Alys screamed. “I refuse to give her to you or anyone from your patronage.”

“You don’t get to make that kind of decision anymore,” the goddess stated. “And for it,” she lifted one hand, her nails long and dark like talons. “A curse.”

Leda’s hand seemed to cut through the very air itself. A strike like lightning formed in the air and hit Alys right in the chest. She fell to the ground, her child hitting the ground as hard as she did. The toddler screamed in horror as Alys’s body started to shift and bend in unnatural ways, the bones cracking and stretching her skin taut. Rey pulled the child away, holding her close in her arms. The small girl shook as she clung to the old woman. Rey was a source of comfort for the child, almost like her grandmother. Alys tried to reach out to them. She wanted so desperately to make her baby understand Rey was just as bad as the men who chased them down. Rey was just as bad as the goddess who tore open the sky. But how could you make a four year old understand?

Alys’s hand fell as she screamed in agony. Her body twisted up more. Sweat made her hair stick to her forehead. Her vision blurred from the pain, her thoughts no longer focused.

“Mama,” the little girl cried. She pulled from Rey’s arms and ran over to her mother. When she touched Alys, the woman’s bones stopped shifting and cracking. Her form returned to its original shape.

“She has a second blessing,” Rey breathed in amazement.

“Two blessings.” Alys repeated, almost in disbelief.

“My siblings must favor this girl,” Leda said, her lips turning up to a smile. “For two of them to give her such powerful gifts. I will grant her one more.” The goddess plucked the toddler up like a cat would pick up its prey.

“No,” Alys reached out weakly. She knew there was no fighting Leda. She was out of tricks at this point. All she could do was crawl in the dirt like a bug. Her daughter reached out for her as well but she couldn’t struggle either. There was nothing to be done now. She gritted her teeth as tears fell from her eyes. Alys didn’t care if she spent all of eternity suffering, but not her daughter. She would do anything to spare her daughter a similar fate.

Leda barely gave Alys a glance before waving her talons at her once again. The woman cried out in pain as the curse started to take hold again. Leda turned her pale eyes back to the child. “I will let you forget this day. I will let you live with Rey. She will guide you to your destiny. As We all see greatness in you.”

Leda placed the toddler gently back on the ground and then grabbed Alys. Instead of like a cat grabbing a mouse it was a wolf clamping its jaw around its victim. Alys could barely make a sound as the rip in the sky started to knit back together. She gave her daughter one last hopeless look, the small baby on the ground motionless. As the sky finished closing back up, she knew it was over. She was gone.