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If I cannot sway the heavens, I’ll wake the powers of hell. - Virgil, tr. Robert Fagles
She fell and fell and fell. Shattered shards of memories and impressions glittered all around her, swirling as she plummeted without end. In each, a snippet of heartbreak—hers. In each, an abundance of loss—hers still.
She would have fallen forever. But she couldn’t, not yet.
“Ad mortem,” she whispered.
And she opened her eyes to gentle light.
///
Orange and pink streaked across the sky as the sun dipped towards the horizon, suffusing her with warmth. Back flat against vibrantly green grass, she stared up at the shadow lingering over her. All else was still.
“Penelope,” the shadow said.
And though Penelope had resolved to remain composed, she faltered at that voice.
“It’s okay,” the shadow said as the liquid darkness of its form morphed, gradually solidifying into soft brown eyes and a broad grin that Penelope would recognize anywhere. And there she was, reaching out with one hand.
“Josie?”
In the brief time it took Josie to nod in affirmation, Penelope’s chest filled with enough emotion to level a city, a continent, a universe. Penelope raised a trembling arm, stretching to take Josie’s hand. The distance seemed impossible to bridge for a moment—too far, too late. But then Josie’s fingers wrapped around hers solidly, tugging her to her feet, and she was saved.
A single raven cawed overhead as Josie, barefoot and wearing the plain black dress they’d buried her in, trailed her fingertips over the lines etched into Penelope’s neck, goosebumps rising in their wake. It felt just real enough.
“I knew you’d come,” Josie said, steady and unwavering.
“I’m so, so sorry,” Penelope said as she cupped Josie’s jaw shakily. In second nature, they leaned in, foreheads resting against each other. “For taking so long. For everything.”
Josie’s smile burned forgivingly. “We don’t have much time. Let’s not waste it on apologies.”
“How long do we have?”
“Never enough,” Josie answered, tone tinged with quiet sorrow.
“Never enough,” Penelope repeated and grimaced at the truth of it.
Josie leaned into Penelope’s touch, lips pressing into Penelope’s palm. Relief brought tears to Penelope’s eyes, but she blinked them away.
“Is—” Josie hesitated.
Penelope pulled back a little to better look Josie in the eyes. “What?”
“Is Lizzie okay? I can’t sense her.” There was a hint of remorse in Josie’s expression, for ending their minute of peace, but it was overshadowed by willfulness, the kind that always manifested with anything regarding Lizzie.
“Are you serious?” Penelope snapped and yanked away, regretting the loss of contact immediately. It shouldn’t have mattered, not after everything. But god, it had to matter, or else this loss wouldn’t.
“You promised,” Josie said, low and warning.
“After what she did, you’ll still hold me to that?”
Josie snarled. “Yes, I will.”
Penelope exhaled hard, seething. “She ran off. With any luck she’ll die out there and save everyone the trouble.”
“Stop.” The corner of Josie’s mouth twitched.
“No, I won’t. You won’t even let this be about you. Why can’t you forget about your damn sister for once and think about what you feel? What you need?”
“The dead don’t need anything,” Josie said, surprising Penelope. For the first time, Josie seemed as cold as she’d been when Penelope last held her. The image returned now—Josie, lips pale, body lifeless, Penelope curled around her uselessly. It struck Penelope like a slap to the face, and the fight left her all at once.
“But I do,” Penelope said, shoulders sagging bonelessly, weaker than she’d intended. She screwed her eyes closed, grief welling. “I do.”
A long pause, and neither of them so much as breathed.
“You’re right,” Josie said finally, muted. “What do you need?”
Penelope stepped forward, and instinctually, Josie’s arms wrapped around her in an embrace. Only losing her had hurt more than this.
Penelope answered in a whisper. “You. Still you.”
Josie said nothing, merely clutched at Penelope’s shoulders. She offered no words of false respite or assurances, and it was a mercy and cruelty at the same time.
“I know.”
There was more Penelope wanted to say, but as she opened her mouth, she was wrenched away by consciousness.
The night erupted in blasts, spells and bullets alike zipping across the forest. Even after countless skirmishes, Penelope still felt the fear as keenly as the first time. Adrenaline seared through her veins as she narrowly dodged a blow from a Triad bruiser and pushed back with a quick incantation to send him flying.
“Icaeus.”
As Penelope turned her attention to a second adversary, a flash of recognizable light blonde hair distracted her. An ill-timed kick to the center of her chest winded her, and in the ensuing clash, she lost view of Lizzie. Penelope lost the thread of the next minute as a wave of Triad enforcers crashed against the Resistance’s dwindling defensive line. When a breath came, she didn’t dare to look at the collection of broken bodies littering the forest floor.
Across the way, on the west end of the battlefield, Alaric valiantly fought off several armored figures. And less than a hundred meters from him was Lizzie yelling at no one in particular. But then again, she always had a knack for losing her mind at the worst possible time. If it were up to Penelope, she would have abandoned Lizzie there, exposed and unaware of the chaos around them.
But the promise she’d made to Josie haunted her.
Penelope cursed herself even as she set off into a sprint. The dead don’t need anything rang mockingly in her head. But still, Penelope couldn’t bear to be the person who broke her word to Josie.
Lizzie stood in the eye of the storm, in the middle of a heated conversation with the thin air in front of her. As Penelope neared, heartbeat thundering in her ears, she caught only the very last thing that Lizzie yelled.
“No, I said wait!”
A burst of white hot energy flared from Lizzie and toppled everyone and everything in the vicinity. Penelope was sent flying, landing heavily on her side. Wincing, she struggled back to her feet, limbs weakened by the impact. Her eyes widened as she saw the wispy edges to a veil-like opening where Lizzie had been.
There, beyond the already fading magical window, stood Josie, in a white floral long-sleeved shirt and burgundy skirt that Penelope had never seen her in before. Josie looked worried, as always, but her expression was considerably lighter than anything Penelope could remember. Then, an alternate Lizzie rushed forward and pulled Josie into a tight hug.
The gate vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving nothing behind, not either version of Lizzie or Josie.
Penelope met Alaric’s equally stricken stare from a hundred feet away. The Triad enforcers around him were already recovering and grabbing at his arms. He mouthed run , and she shook off her confusion, acquiescing.
“Retreat!” Penelope let loose a single bolt of red energy, igniting the otherwise darkened sky.
She fell and fell and fell. The eternal blackness dragged her in, irresistible, and so she let it. This time, succumbing was easier, knowing what awaited her.
“Ad mortem,” she said.
And she opened her eyes to welcoming light.
///
The idyllic landscape was born again, features stretching and filling the emptiness. Shocks of multicolored flowers punctuated the vast grassland, and the sun angled downwards, watching over this patch of pseudo-reality.
Penelope sat up and looked around, lost until she found Josie knelt beside her.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” Penelope echoed, relaxing.
Josie delicately brushed her thumb against Penelope’s cheek, tracing a recent cut. Though the sensation was subdued, Penelope still shivered under the attention. Josie asked, “Does it hurt?”
“Not right now.”
Josie frowned and said, “You know I meant when you’re awake.”
“Maybe a little,” Penelope said and caught hold of Josie’s hand in hers. She placed a careful kiss on Josie’s knuckles. “But I don’t care about that, not when I’m here with you.”
Despite everything, Josie smiled gratefully, and it was only in Penelope’s head but everything seemed to light up around them. Penelope could scarcely wrap her mind around the disparity of this halcyon dream and the nightmare she’d come from. All she could do was pull Josie closer.
“Did you see what happened with Lizzie?” Penelope asked after a few beats, spurred on by the ever looming time limit of these visits.
“Mostly,” Josie said, more serene than Penelope would’ve expected.
“Well, what do you make of all that? She said something about different worlds, which I would normally say is just her brand of crazy.”
“But?” Josie prompted.
“But then, I’m pretty sure I saw a glimpse of an alternate world,” Penelope said, heaving a troubled exhale. “And if she’s not here with you now, then that means she’s completely vanished.”
“Or… she found a way to return home,” Josie said. “From the looks of it, she belonged to a happier universe.”
Penelope chuckled, soured by bitterness. Of all the undeserving people to have a better fate than them. “Not exactly the highest bar.”
“No, it’s not,” Josie agreed as she reached up and tucked Penelope’s hair behind her ear. “What will you do now?”
“I don’t know,” Penelope said, squeezing Josie’s hand. She thought of the shattered Resistance, the hopeless bent in their postures, and the bloody mess they’d left behind. “I want to stay here with you. I’m… I’m so tired.” The admittance stole the remnants of Penelope’s facade, and she sank against Josie, quavering with the effort of keeping her emotions at bay.
Josie held on, nose and mouth nuzzling the top of Penelope’s head, firm against her trembling. Like this, Penelope could pretend to still feel Josie’s warmth.
“Is that really what you want?” Josie asked.
Penelope sighed raggedly. “I don’t fucking know. I can’t just leave your dad and the others to rot.”
“You’ve already done so much,” Josie said, fingers stroking idly along Penelope’s forearm. “No one could ask for more. And I’ll be here waiting for you either way.”
God, Penelope wanted so badly to give up. She wanted to be selfish, to be weak, to not feel so alone. But—
“I have to try and save him,” Penelope concluded and pitied herself for the sentimentality. “It’s probably the most obvious lost cause, but I owe him.”
Josie laid her lips on Penelope’s forehead, a small breath skimming the surface of her skin.
“Thank you.”
And without warning, she was torn away once again.
She woke to a persistent shake of her shoulder and a face as weary as she felt. Disoriented from the abrupt transition, Penelope’s eyelids fluttered rapidly, and she had to push against the fog clouding her mind. The night air was cold, and Josie wasn’t there.
“What?” Penelope growled, rough with sleep and disappointment.
A well-built man—or boy maybe, he couldn’t be that much older than her—with long dreadlocks stood above her, backing away at her response. Penelope vaguely recognized him as one of the newcomers that had arrived with Lizzie.
“It’s our turn to keep watch,” he said.
Penelope rose from her sleeping bag, yielding it to another member of the Resistance. Her body, bruised and sore from the fight, protested every movement, but she masked it with carefully practiced stoicism. Josie had always hated that kind of pretense on her.
As Penelope joined the man atop the enclosing wall, he offered her a half-empty bottle of Fireball. She mumbled her thanks and took a large swig, making a face as it scorched unpleasantly down her throat.
“The others say you can visit the dead,” he said as he stared off into the distance. “That true?”
“What’s it to you?” She eyed him suspiciously.
“We’ve all lost someone important to us,” he said, shrugging. “Who wouldn’t be at least a little curious?”
Penelope took another sip and swallowed thickly before saying, “In my dreams, I can visit people who’ve died recently, if their spirits let me.”
“Who were you visiting tonight?”
“Look, man, I don’t even know you,” Penelope said with a scornful laugh.
“Kaleb,” he said, holding a hand out in introduction.
“Penelope,” she said and, instead of shaking his hand, shoved the bottle back to him. She sighed, breath condensing into a visible puff of air. “I still don’t know you.”
“Fair enough,” Kaleb said, swishing the bronze liquid around inside its container. “I’m just tired of talking and saying nothing important.”
At that, Penelope looked at him—really looked at him—and felt nothing at all. She could almost hear Josie in the back of her head, urging Penelope to offer even a night’s worth of camaraderie. Penelope tilted her head back, searching the cloudy skies for a peek of the moon, and felt incredibly foolish as she opened her mouth.
“My girlfriend,” Penelope said. “That vigil yesterday was for her.”
“Well, shit,” Kaleb muttered. “Murdered by her sister, right?”
“Yeah,” she said. Kaleb passed the remainder of the whiskey to her and gestured for her to finish it. She did and was emptier inside than when they began. “And who’ve you lost since this all started?”
“The only guy who could stand me,” he said with forced levity. “Now, I got no one left.”
“Join the club,” she said, but it wasn’t meant unkindly. He seemed to understand.
“Ain’t it risky using magic to visit your girl?”
“Yeah, but even living is risky for witches these days.”
Kaleb inclined his head in acquiescence. “Why don’t you tell me about her?”
“Excuse me?” Penelope raised an eyebrow.
“That’s how we keep our people’s memory alive, by talking about ‘em.” Kaleb grinned with an audacity matching his request and continued, “Besides, I wanna know what kind of girl was able to melt your icy exterior.”
A part of her didn’t see the point in indulging him. Penelope could say anything, she could talk for hours at end, and Josie would stay dead. What power was there in a memory? Did it deserve to breathe new life when Josie never would? But another part of her liked the idea in a mawkish way. With the words spoken aloud, the world couldn't deny, then, that Josie had lived and endured and died—that she had existed and loved and been loved in return. And maybe that was the one thing that no one could take away.
Penelope flexed her hand, wrist and knuckles cracking with the gesture.
“She’s incredibly stubborn,” Penelope said, the ghost of a smile gracing her lips, unbidden. “She makes me seem accommodating by comparison. Sneaky, and you wouldn’t know it just by looking at her. Selfless to the point of defying all logic and reason. And—” She had to stop then, chest aching with such pressure that she struggled to breathe.
Kaleb let the silence sit between them for a few seconds. Eventually he said, “The person I lost was my cousin. We were always close, even though he was ten years older than me. He had the kind of humor that made even the worst times seem bearable. And he loved me more than anyone else.” Eyes filling with tears, he looked away, and she pretended not to notice. “After an accident, he was the one who turned me, so I wouldn’t die before I even got to live.”
Penelope fiddled with the label on the bottle, sobered by their shared grief. She cleared her throat and asked, “Triad?”
Kaleb nodded, stiff. “He’s free now. At least, that’s what I gotta tell myself.”
“I get it,” Penelope said, shifting against a cool breeze. And she did. If there was nothing to look forward to in life, then there had to be promise in death.
“Where are y’all headed with your leader taken away?” Kaleb asked, glancing out at the half-dozen sleeping figures below.
“I’m going after him. Dunno if the rest will follow, but I’ll take whatever help I can get. You?”
“No idea. Probably run and hide like I’d been doing before.” After a quick second of consideration, Kaleb tugged at a worn purple backpack beside him, handed it over to her, and said, “I took this from camp when we retreated. I was hoping something in there would protect me, but it sounds like you’ll probably need it more than me.”
Penelope unzipped the backpack and found a modest stash of what looked to be magical artifacts. Stunned, she looked up at Kaleb and said, “Thanks, I think.”
“Honestly, I would’ve blown something up if I tried using that shit anyway,” he said dismissively, face turned away from her.
Picking up a bauble, she spotted a fire sigil etched into one side and hated herself a little for the constant reminders.
“Hey,” Penelope said, surprising herself, “you could stick around for a little longer if you wanted. I can’t speak for anyone else, but I’ll watch your back if you watch mine.”
“Recruiting for your suicide mission?” Kaleb chuckled, but all the same, he said, “I’ll think about it, crazy girl.”
She fell and fell and fell. Complete silence ruled over this pocket of the abyss—and she’d never felt so alone. The solitude weighed heavy as she sank to darker depths.
When it became intolerable, she managed a choked, “Ad mortem.”
And she opened her eyes to intense light.
///
It was dawn or dusk, but she couldn’t tell which from the motionless sky. A small lake lay a few feet from her, surface glittering clear and blue. The buzz of dragonfly wings and chirp of crickets droned in her ears pleasantly.
Clambering to her feet unsteadily, Penelope spotted Josie, sat lakeside on the opposite end. Still in the same simple dress, Josie seemed, for once, completely open and carefree. It was a perfect, peaceful moment, and Penelope longed for it to be real.
“Come here.” Josie beckoned, and Penelope obeyed. As Penelope settled beside her, Josie said, “That’s better.”
A slow smile pulled at Penelope’s lips, and she let it.
“We used to talk about this,” Josie recalled, shoulder bumping against Penelope’s.
“I remember,” Penelope said, soft, in stark contrast to the immediate surge of anguish she felt. “When the fighting died down, we’d take a day to ourselves and go swimming in the lake.”
The corners of Josie’s mouth flattened for a moment before she forced herself back into a small smile. With an almost playful edge, she asked, “Did you miss me?”
It was rhetorical, surely, and Penelope took it as such, replying facetiously, “Only a little.”
Josie scooted closer, arm snaking around Penelope’s back. This close, Penelope belatedly realized that Josie’s worried features were plainer and the color in her face duller than Penelope remembered. This wasn’t out of the ordinary, simply a sign that Josie’s spirit was settling into the afterlife. It only confirmed what Penelope already knew—that they were running out of time.
But time wasn’t a luxury they’d ever been fortunate enough to enjoy. Even now, these moments together were stolen, due to be returned eventually. Still, Penelope would’ve given years of her life for just an hour more of this, as illusory as it was.
Penelope leaned into Josie’s touch, hoping that the sensation would comfort her. It did but very little.
“You’re a million miles away,” Josie said. “What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing good.”
“Tell me,” Josie said, “does it have anything to do with that bag full of artifacts?”
“Kind of,” Penelope replied. “Freya Mikaelson’s journal was in there.”
Josie furrowed her brow. “I remember Dad said her brother Klaus killed her and burned her things out of paranoia.”
“Well, I don’t know how he missed this, but it seems to really have belonged to her.”
“What was in it?”
As a curious look came over Josie’s face, Penelope briefly hesitated. Was there any sense in disturbing the delicate serenity of this place? But hiding difficult truths was what had landed them here. Maybe there was no easy answer. All Penelope knew was that she didn’t know how to handle this on her own.
“Freya suspected that the world we’re in right now was created by powerful magic,” Penelope said. “She called it ‘wish magic’, a mythological power associated with jinni.”
Josie narrowed her eyes. “Does that mean… other worlds actually have jinni?”
“If we believe a Mikaelson, then yes.” Penelope scoffed and shook her head. “I never thought I’d see the day when there’d be someone else backing-up one of Lizzie’s delusions.”
“So what does that mean, if Lizzie and Freya were right?”
“I don’t know,” Penelope said with a roll of her shoulders. “I guess that this is all just… a cosmic joke.”
“Don’t say that,” Josie said seriously.
“I don’t know what else to make of it.”
“Did Lizzie know all along? Even when she—” Color returned to Josie’s skin as she considered the implications.
“I don’t think so,” Penelope said. “When she came back before the big battle, she was different. Couldn’t remember anything that had happened. Your dad thought it was trauma, but that was probably the other Lizzie, the one who made the wish.”
It didn’t seem to console Josie. Like shrugging off rust or ice, the lethargy of death fell away from her as her cheeks flushed red.
“What did she wish for?”
“I… I don’t know.” Penelope was taken aback by the clarity of Josie’s emotion, stronger than it should’ve been for someone who had spent a few days here.
“What did she wish for?” Josie repeated forcefully. “For me to—” She stopped herself, gritting her teeth. It was too painful to be voiced.
“No,” Penelope said quickly. “She seemed shocked. And devastated.” It really was the end of the world if she was defending Lizzie in some way.
“How is this possible?” Josie demanded. “None of this was real, it was just the unintended consequences of a thoughtless wish? How is that possible, after all we went through and—” Disbelieving fury caused a tremor to shake her hands. “—and lost?”
Penelope grabbed Josie by the shoulders insistently. “Hey. It is real. No matter how this all came into being, even if it’s just a mistake—we still lived it.”
“It’s not just any mistake. It’s Lizzie’s. Which makes it part mine.” Resolution braced each word, a hint of heat rising in Josie’s eyes. “But what can I do about it? How am I supposed to find peace, knowing that, without a chance to fix it?”
The corner of Penelope’s mouth quirked to the side as she said, “Maybe we still can.”
Josie frowned but was subdued by the suggestion. Calmer, she asked, “What are you talking about?”
“In Freya’s journal, she said she devised a way to reverse our world’s creation. She used a mixture of her own blood and her brother’s to create a catalyst. It was in the backpack with her journal, it just has to be taken to some place called Malivore,” Penelope said. She hadn’t planned on telling Josie that part. It seemed too far-fetched, too drastic. But faced with Josie’s despair, Penelope wanted to alleviate it, as she’d always tried to do in the past.
“Malivore,” Josie repeated, unfamiliar in her mouth too.
“I don’t know where or what it is.”
“Me neither.” Brow furrowing, Josie asked, “Reverse in what way? Like it would undo everything?”
Penelope nodded.
“I don’t know,” Josie said, trailing off.
“Well, I said I’d find your dad, and I will,” Penelope said as she reached out to lace their fingers together. “Maybe he’ll know what to do.”
“Maybe,” Josie echoed.
Penelope squinted against the sunlight as she raised her head. She couldn’t take the melancholy on Josie’s face, and so she said, “I don’t think we have much time left. Why don’t we go for that swim?”
The air inside the Triad compound reeked of chemicals and decay, so suffocating in strength that Penelope was forced to keep her sleeve pressed against her nose and mouth. Kaleb and two others trailed behind her, copying the gesture. Multiple corridors branched off from the upcoming intersection, and though Penelope was reluctant to split up, the enhanced sleep spell from the artifact she’d used on the Triad guards would only hold for half an hour longer. She jerked her head in indication and took the center path alone.
The tunnel twisted and winded off into frightening darkness, and still, Penelope followed it, heartbeat hammering so hard she could feel it in her throat. A faint groan sounded from the end of the passage, from the other side of a bolted metal door. She quickened her steps and cast a makeshift truesight spell on herself, scanning her surroundings for potential threats.
Beyond the door sat several large metal cages containing a total of five prisoners. Their faces were obscured by the blurriness of her spell, but then again, she’d never been as good as Josie at these.
Penelope tried the handle and was surprised to find that it turned without trouble. The door scraped open to a dismal sight. She recognized the five as members of the Resistance—all taken from the last battle—including Alaric, though he was curled in the corner. Their faces drooped haggardly, pale and sickly, with dark veins spreading across their skin. Alaric seemed the worst off, breaths coming labored and loud.
As Penelope stepped in, one of the captives—Roman—whispered her name. “What are you doing here?”
“What does it look like?” Penelope asked, grabbing a set of keys off a nearby shelf.
“Like you’ve got a serious death wish,” Roman replied quietly. “Not to sound ungrateful or anything.”
Penelope tried four keys before she found the right one, hands shaking as she unlocked each gate. The newly freed prisoners clambered out one by one, as best they could. Only Alaric remained unmoving.
“What did they do to him?” Penelope asked, wincing in revulsion. Roman staggered out of his cage, and she reached out to steady him.
“They’ve been… experimenting on us,” Roman said, brow furrowed. He pulled at the collar of his tattered, stained shirt and revealed a wound on his chest, clearly festering in some unnatural way, black ichor leaking and mixing with the darkened veins. “And you don’t want to know any more than that.”
His eyes dulled, and Penelope decided not to push. She pointed down the hall she’d come from and said, “Follow it to the intersection, a couple others will rejoin you there. If they don’t show up in two minutes, go straight to the exit and get out of here.”
“Got it,” Roman said. As he helped the last person out the door, he turned back, expression hardened, to say one last thing. “Penelope. Do what you have to.”
“I will,” she said, almost without thinking, and something not quite soft enough to be pity flashed across his face before he left.
As the rescued prisoners’ muffled footsteps grew distant, Penelope crouched down beside Alaric and shook his shoulders in an effort to wake him. When that failed, she whispered the incantation to a simple restorative spell and watched the glowing energy settle around him in a faint outline. A few seconds passed, and Penelope thought maybe she was too late. Just as the familiar bitter disappointment was sinking in, Alaric spluttered awake in a fit of coughs that wracked his entire body.
“It’s fine, it’s just me,” Penelope said as Alaric’s eyes roamed the room in confusion. She swelled with something too jaded to be relief.
“What—” At first attempt, his voice came out hoarse and feeble. He cleared his throat. “You came.”
“Yeah.”
“You shouldn’t have,” he said, groaning as she helped him into an upright position.
“Well, I did,” she said.
“Did she ask you to?”
Penelope’s jaw locked at his words. Ignoring his question, she said, “We can talk later. Let’s get out of here first.”
“Penelope,” Alaric said softly. “Look at me.” She did as he asked, focusing on his sweaty, sallow appearance. “I won’t make it.”
Stubbornly, Penelope shook her head. “One of the vamps can carry you. And then we’ll heal you.”
“There isn’t a cure for this,” he insisted. “I’m dying.”
“What did they do to you?” she asked, mentally running through the different medicinal spells she’d heard of and their utility for the situation at hand.
“From what I understand, they have a pit of black ooze at their HQ. They originally thought it was an anti-supernatural substance, but after testing it on me—” he broke off in coughs. Once they were under control, he continued, “Well, it seems it’s deadly to any living creature.”
“What ooze? How does it hurt us?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “They call it Project Malivore.”
“Malivore,” Penelope repeated breathlessly.
“You’ve heard of it?”
“Someone gave me this two days ago.” From her coat, she pulled out Freya Mikaelson’s journal and handed it over to him, open to the pertinent page.
Alaric took in the contents of the journal as swiftly as he could as Penelope kept her senses trained on the doorway and the passage beyond it, on the lookout for any approaching noises. After a minute, Alaric asked, “And the catalyst?”
“I have it with me,” Penelope said, patting her coat pocket.
“Get rid of it,” he said, “and burn the journal.”
“Why?”
Alaric blinked, taken aback. He swallowed with some difficulty and replied, “Because it’s too dangerous.”
“Maybe it’s just what we need,” she said darkly. And she’d never been one for fate or destiny, but the timing of this discovery felt too fortuitous to ignore.
“Are you serious?” he asked, eyes widening. “Why would you want to use it?”
“Because this world, this timeline or whatever you want to call it, should never have existed in the first place,” she answered in a vehement timbre. “We’re all suffering so, so much, and there’s no purpose. This is a mistake, and we could fix it.”
“Don’t do it, please,” Alaric pleaded. “You’d affect everyone, not just Triad. Think of all the innocents who could still survive this war.”
“Josie was innocent too,” Penelope snapped and immediately looked away. It felt like she’d inadvertently shown him too much of her hand.
To her annoyance, his alarmed expression softened. “Exactly. Think of all the others out there like her.”
Penelope scowled as her stomach twisted. “There is no one out there like her.”
But Alaric seemed unconvinced and maybe even disappointed at her reaction. He shook his head sadly and said, “Wars don’t last forever. This will eventually pass, and yes, it will be full of pain and horror, but one day it will end. And then, there will be a chance for more people like her to exist. Don’t rob us or them of that chance.”
A drowning sensation overpowered Penelope in that moment. She couldn’t be the person he wanted her to be. Alaric wanted a hero. But he was stuck with her instead.
Too fucking bad. Maybe this world didn’t deserve a hero. Maybe it deserved her.
“And how long will it take to get to that point? How many long, terrible years will pass before then?” Penelope asked in a hiss. Before he could answer, she continued, “And if peace is ever reached, how long do you think it’ll last before fear and cruelty lead us into a new war?”
“Penelope,” he said, gentle, and she hated him for that. She wanted him to feel the same unrelenting anger that she felt. “I know you’re grieving. I am too, believe me. Believe me.”
Seeing the haunted, almost defeated look on his face, her eyes welled with tears. He’d lost both his daughters and their mother and still wanted to save the world. It reminded her of what Josie used to be like, before the war had gotten this bad.
“But you’d be erasing everyone you’ve lost too,” he said. “Freya’s plan doesn’t just kill everyone. It wipes this entire existence.”
“I know what it does,” Penelope said, words pronounced harshly.
“You could still be reunited with your parents, with your friends, with Josie.”
She still had more to say, but this wasn’t the time or place for a lengthy existential or moral debate. “You’re right,” Penelope said after a long pause, placatingly. “I just don’t know what to do now.”
“What you’ve been doing all along,” he said. “Helping others.”
“And you?”
“There’s no helping me,” he said. “It’s too late.”
Maybe it was his air of finality or the sluggish slant to his features, but Penelope could see the truth of it now. “I can think of one thing,” she said and offered a hand to him, “if you want.”
Realization dawned on Alaric’s face as he caught her meaning. He considered it for a few tense seconds. “I could never ask you to do that. You’ve been through too much already.”
“What’s one more thing, then?” she asked, almost jokingly. When his eyes still flickered with hesitance, she pushed. “Let me do this for you.”
Finally, he placed his hand in hers. She whispered an incantation, withering magic pulsing between them. Through slower and slower breaths, he said, “I’m sorry. For everything you’ve had to do. But thank you anyway. For caring. About me. About Josie.”
“What a terrible thing to say,” she said, an ugly laugh forcing its way out.
A disquieting look of sorrow ghosted across his face, and she felt like she’d let him down one last time.
And she took everything that remained of him.
She fell and fell and fell. The force of the descent tore at her, ripping away entire pieces of her mind. This time she struggled desperately, twisting against the never-ending gloom, and screamed her frustration to no avail. No one was there to hear it.
Why was this always agonizing? Why was everything always working against her?
“Ad mortem,” she spat.
And she opened her eyes to blinding light.
///
“It’s over,” she heard the words muffled as if she were underwater. “Penelope, calm down.”
Penelope gasped, inhaling raggedly as she came to, still pushing against whatever was restraining her. Then she could smell Josie’s flowery perfume all around her, casting her thoughts back to when they’d been able to indulge in such luxuries, and even if it was only in her imagination, it mollified her instantly. Josie released her grip, fingers skimming down Penelope’s arms as she did.
“I’m sorry,” Penelope said and hung her head, forehead falling to Josie’s shoulder. Josie stilled. Penelope didn’t know what else to do but repeat herself. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t.”
Penelope held her next apology back, but Josie’s posture remained rigid.
“I don’t think it’s your fault,” Josie said, hands balling into fists. “But I’m—I’m fading.”
Penelope didn’t have to look up to know it was true.
“It’s getting harder and harder to feel anything at all,” Josie said. “I should be devastated, but I have to really focus to remember what that feels like.” She sighed, the sound burdened by all it had to convey. “I know I’m meant to pass on soon, but I’m not ready.”
Lifting her head, Penelope brought her hands up to cup Josie’s face, thumbs brushing against Josie’s cheeks. The skin there was smooth and cold, almost like stone.
“You have to be,” Penelope said, hushed.
“I’m not,” Josie said, eyes darkening. “I told you, I can’t bear it—what this world is, what it’s become.”
“You want me to do it then? Destroy this universe?”
Josie grimaced. “It doesn’t matter what I want.”
“You’re wrong,” Penelope said, bringing their heads closer, foreheads bumping together. “That’s all that matters to me.”
“How could I tell you to do that? When you could still survive this and have the chance to heal and recover? No, the dead don’t get a say.” Josie’s artless conviction cut deep, a reminder once again of what Penelope had lost—someone who cared without limit.
“And I’d lose you more and more with each day,” Penelope whispered fiercely. “I’d forget the sound of your voice, the look of your smile, how you make me feel—”
“But with enough time you could move on,” Josie interrupted, “and maybe one day you could look back on us with something other than sadness and hurt.”
“That’s all very healthy,” Penelope said with a scoff, “but we both know I won’t see that day. Do you know what I want?”
Josie shook her head. “Tell me.”
“I want to go through with Freya Mikaelson’s plan,” Penelope said, punctuating with spite. “I want to end it all. To correct this colossal mistake. To cut short the suffering of supernaturals and humans—everyone. But even more than that, I want to punish the universe for its fucking indifference.”
“What do you mean—its indifference?”
The grief bled from her now, overflowing and unstoppable, and this time, she didn’t fight it. “I hate that nothing changed when you died. The earth kept spinning and Triad kept hunting us and seven billion people kept living. I want the world to pay for not even pausing when you left it. And I know that it’s such a selfish, bitter, limited thing to think and feel, but that’s all I have left.”
Penelope’s tears came too easily now, weakness corroding her very veins. Josie pulled her into a firm hug, and Penelope finally let herself break, burying her face in the crook of Josie’s neck. Like this, Penelope could see the two of them for what they really were—children who would never get to grow up or old. Like this, Penelope could see herself for who she really was—a damaged person with few options at her disposal, all bad.
Sometimes, that’s all you get, Penelope thought and quieted.
As Penelope subdued herself, Josie disentangled them and wiped away Penelope’s tears with her thumbs. With fire in her tone, Josie said, “Let’s be selfish then.”
Penelope met Josie’s steely gaze, and her initial surprise melted away. Penelope said, “Okay, let’s be selfish.”
Neither of them moved—suddenly uncertain when faced with this, too, ending.
Drawing a shaky breath, Josie gave voice to the fear. “Is this it for us then?” She broke only at the last word, face crumpling at the idea.
“Maybe,” Penelope replied, chest constricting painfully. “In case it is, there’s something I have to tell you first.” She swallowed with difficulty, voice coming out hoarse. “I don’t know what happens in those other universes, if we even meet, if we live any longer. But here, in the worst of all worlds, I had you and you had me. And you know what? I don’t need anything more than that.”
Josie’s eyes, shining with unshed tears, flickered down to Penelope’s mouth but didn’t linger. Penelope felt the glance like a twisting ache. It took everything not to lean forward and bring their lips together, but she couldn’t bear to, not while knowing it would be the last time.
Pressed by the same urgency, Josie said, “Well, I have something I have to tell you too.”
Penelope almost didn’t want to hear what it was. Wanted to believe that there would be many more chances for Josie to tell her. But that just wasn’t true. She nodded for Josie to continue.
“After Klaus Mikaelson killed Mom, Lizzie started saying that love is an affliction. She heard it off Klaus himself when we were younger. She said it blinded Mom, made her weak, and that’s what ultimately caused her death.” A muted sadness graced Josie’s features. “I understand now that she was speaking from grief, but I never agreed, because I always knew that love is a gift. And now, after everything, thank you for proving me right, over and over.”
The simple tenderness lanced through Penelope, and she didn’t know how to withstand it. Josie pressed a short kiss against Penelope’s cheek.
“I’ll be with you until the very end.”
Six hours and twenty-three minutes later found Penelope deep in Triad’s headquarters, nursing a severe wound, and holding their director at gunpoint. If she’d known all it took to infiltrate the base was a set of stolen Triad credentials, a handful of fatally poisoned supernaturals providing guard on the disabled Travelers’ dark artifact, and the determination of someone with nothing to lose and nothing to gain—well, she’d have pitched it to Alaric at least once.
“You’re making a mistake,” said the director, a middle-aged woman with assessing brown eyes and dark red staining her lips. Mrs. G was what her bodyguard had called her as he’d shot Penelope in the stomach just scant seconds before. Still, Penelope had gotten her immediate retribution with a quick snap of his neck before summoning his weapon faster than Mrs. G could react.
“How do you figure?” Penelope asked, training the gun on Mrs. G’s forehead. Penelope’s free hand pressed against her abdomen, trying in vain to staunch the bleeding.
“That ceasefire Dr. Saltzman petitioned for is going to be reviewed by Congress in a couple weeks. I can only imagine this won’t look so good.”
“Do I look like I’m here hoping for a ceasefire?” Penelope laughed low and malevolent through the piercing pain.
“No, I think you’re doing what any animal does when they’re backed into a corner,” Mrs. G said. She seemed remarkably calm, but perhaps that was the kind of woman who could order massacre after massacre without batting an eye.
“You think of us as animals, huh?”
“Not at all,” Mrs. G replied with a shake of her head. “Animals can be contained. They don’t have the power to alter reality or decimate large portions of a city like it’s nothing.”
Penelope sneered. “So everything you’ve done is justified then. Because we’re such monsters.”
Mrs. G’s began to lower her hands but halted when Penelope took a threatening albeit unsteady step forward. Baring her teeth, Mrs. G said, “Vampires took my only son from me. Not once but twice. And the second time, I had to look at the grotesque creature they’d turned my beautiful boy into and put him down. My story is remarkable only in how unremarkable it was when supernaturals ran around unchecked. What punishment do you think fits those crimes?”
“Triad took my home, my people, my entire life,” Penelope countered. “You took the innocence of an entire generation of children. You forced us into violence and turned us into killers. What punishment fits those crimes?”
“Is that what you’re trying to do today? Hand out punishment?” Mrs. G asked contemptuously. “And what will you do after you kill me? Go on to slaughter every human who stands in your way until you’ve got no more opposition left? Stronger witches have tried. They all failed. Why do you think this time will be any different?”
Penelope smiled coldly. “Because they didn’t have the power to make the world pay. I do.”
“The world? What are you talking about?”
“Just something that your little project will help me with,” Penelope said, gesturing towards the large metal doors labelled Project Malivore . “Nothing you need to worry about. It’ll be over for everyone soon enough.”
Mrs. G followed Penelope’s line of sight, expression faltering for the first time. “All you’d be doing is proving us right. That we had to hunt every last one of you down,” Mrs. G said, even as a tremor of true fear crept in. Penelope felt a thrill of sick triumph at that. “Is that how you want your loved ones to see you?”
“You know what, that line probably would’ve worked on my friends. Hell, it would’ve worked on my parents,” Penelope said in a drawl. Then, she hardened. “But they’re all dead.”
At that, Mrs. G raised her chin defiantly, and Penelope’s lips pulled back in a snarl at her impenitence.
“You killed all the healers, the idealists, the dreamers; because of you and your organization, everyone with even a shred of hope is gone. Now, all that’s left is me.” Penelope’s hatred tugged at her unforgivingly. “And I just want to watch the world burn.”
And she pulled the trigger.
Vindication seared inside her gut, and Penelope staggered, finally succumbing to the demanding strain of her injury. From Mrs. G’s lifeless body, Penelope plucked her badge and clearance card and reached out to scan them on the pad affixed adjacent to the metal doors. The doors emitted a loud beep, and the pad displayed a stuttering message: Depressurizing in 4:59 . She watched the numbers shift for a few seconds before realizing she probably wouldn’t make it to the end of the countdown.
Despair and frustration mixed in her chest, as excruciating as any gunshot wound. She was so close. And she still couldn’t stand the idea of being the person who broke her word to Josie.
An idea came to her then on how to delay her body’s slow crawl to death.
She fell and fell and fell. It felt like drowning, and she surrendered to it.
“Ad mortem.”
///
Penelope opened her eyes to the welcome sight of Josie standing in front of her, their hands entwined. All her pains faded to a dull ache. The artificial sun and grassy hillside around them were barely blips on her radar, all her focus on the girl anchoring her. Josie clenched her jaw, but she was clearer than ever. What a mercy that was.
A regret stung in the back of Penelope’s throat, and she rushed to say, “I lied last time when I said I didn’t need anything else. There is one more thing I need. But it’s a lot to ask for.”
Josie raised her eyebrows. “And what’s that?”
“A kiss.”
Josie smiled, sweet and pained, and if anything could heal Penelope, it would be that. “Oh, and since when is that a lot to ask for?”
“It is,” Penelope said insistently, stepping into Josie’s space. “It is when it’s the last time. When it’s all that stands between us and a long, long path. When I don’t know if you’ll be there on the other side. So this will have to tide me over for all of time, for all the infinite possibilities without you. Can you give me that?”
Josie leaned forward, forehead bracing against Penelope’s, and her eyes softened. There were no words or maybe too many, so in answer, Josie simply kissed her.
It wasn’t enough, it would never be enough. But it still did everything Penelope needed it to.
The metal doors opened with a whoosh of air, and Penelope stumbled in. Shaky fingers coated in blood retrieved the vial from its hiding place in her coat. With what strength remained in her, she tossed it high in the air above the bubbling pit that had to be Malivore.
As the vial descended, her hand was guided by a force greater than herself—the vengeful spirits of the many, many fallen. But as a single word rose from her core, she felt the presence of the brightest soul of the lot and was comforted.
“Ignalusa.”
Unbearable heat consumed the very edges of her consciousness, and the world ended.
She fell and fell and fell. The fragments of all other worlds rushed by, bits and pieces flashing before her. In them, she saw reflected every emotion she’d ever experienced and some she hadn’t yet. There was devastation, longing, joy, melancholy, anger, envy, love—each lasting a moment and a lifetime all at once. And it was so beautiful.
It really was everything she’d hoped for.
And she opened her eyes to light.