Merry meet, Kalona, my Warrior.

Her voice echoed eerily from the past and I gasped. I didn’t need to see the woman’s face. I instantly recognized her voice. “Nyx!” I cried.

“Indeed,” Kalona said. “I was Nyx’s Oath-sworn Warrior.”

The Kalona in the vision followed his Goddess into her temple. The scene changed, and suddenly Kalona was using both his swords to battle something I couldn’t quite focus on. The thing was black and kept changing shape. One instant it would be a huge serpent, in another it was an open mouth filled with glistening teeth, in yet another it appeared to be a hideous spiderlike creature with claws and fangs.

“What is that?”

“Just an aspect of evil.” Kalona spoke slowly, as if the words were hard for him to say.

“But weren’t you in Nyx’s realm? How could evil get there?”

“Evil is everywhere, just as good is everywhere. It’s the way the world and the Otherworld were made. There must be balance, even in Nyx’s realm.”

“That’s why she needed a warrior?” I asked, watching the scene shift again to show Kalona, white wings blazing, walking behind Nyx as she strolled through a lush meadow. His eyes were never still, but constantly scanned the area around and behind the Goddess. One sword was drawn and in his hand. The other was ready in its scabbard.

“Yes, that is why she needs a warrior,” he said.

“Needs.” I tested the word, and then managed to look from the scenes of Kalona’s past to the Kalona of the present. “If she still needs a warrior, then why are you here instead of there?”

His jaw tightened and his eyes filled with pain. His voice was broken when he answered me. “Look there, and you shall see the truth.”

I focused my gaze back on the changing scenes to see Nyx standing before Kalona. He was on his knees in front of her, and just as he had been when I stepped into this dream, he was weeping. This incarnation of Nyx looked so much like the statue of Mary at the Benedictine nuns’ grotto that I felt a little jolt of shock. But as I kept watching, I saw that something was off about Nyx. Unlike the serene beauty of the nuns’ Mary, Nyx’s expression was hard and appeared weirdly more stonelike than the statue.

Please do not do this, my Goddess. Kalona’s voice lifted to us. It sounded as if he were begging.

I do nothing, Kalona. You have a choice in this. I give even my Warriors free will, though I don’t require them to use it wisely. I was shocked by how cold Nyx sounded. For a second she actually reminded me of how Aphrodite used to be.

I cannot help myself. I was created to feel this. It is not free will. It is preordination.

Yet as your Goddess I tell you what you are is not preordained. Your will has fashioned you.

I cannot help how I feel! I cannot help what I am!

You, my Warrior, are mistaken; therefore, you must pay the consequences of your mistake.

Nyx raised one perfect arm and flicked her fingers at Kalona. The Warrior was lifted from his knees and hurled backward, tumbling end over end.

Kalona fell.

I watched it.

I watched him scream and writhe in agony as he fell and fell and fell. When he finally landed, crumpled, broken, and bloody, in a lush field that reminded me of the Tall Grass Prairie, his wings had turned from white to the raven black they are today.

With a cry filled with pain, Kalona lifted his hand and wiped away the vision of the past. As the air before us shimmered and then became the rooft op garden of the castle again, he let loose of my hand and stepped away from me to sit on a bench under an orange tree. He didn’t say anything. He just sat there looking out at the sparkling blue of the Mediterranean.

I followed, but didn’t sit beside him. Instead, I stood in front of him, studying him as if I could really judge truth with my eyes.

“Why did she kick you out? What was it that you did?”

His eyes met mine. “I loved her too much.” His voice was so emotionless he sounded like a ghost.

“How can you love your Goddess too much?” I asked automatically, even as the obvious answer came to me. There were different types of love—I was über-aware of that. Kalona’s love for Nyx was obviously the wrong type.

“I was jealous. I even hated Erebus.”

I blinked in shock. Erebus was Nyx’s consort, her eternal lover.

“My love for her made me break my oath. I was so obsessed with her, I couldn’t protect her anymore. I failed as her Warrior.”

“That’s terrible,” I said, thinking of Stark. He’d only been sworn to me for days, and already I knew it would be like ripping away a part of his soul if he failed to protect me. And how long had Kalona been Nyx’s Warrior? Centuries? How long was a piece of eternity?

Incredulous, I realized I was feeling sorry for Kalona. I couldn’t be feeling sorry for him! Sure, he’d had his heart broken and fell from the Goddess’s realm, but then he’d turned into a bad guy. He’d become the evil he used to fight.

He nodded his head and, as if he could hear my thoughts, said, “I did terrible things. I’ve continued to do them. Falling changed me. Then, for so long I was numb inside. I searched and searched, century after century, trying to find something, someone to fill the bloody wound Nyx had left within my soul, within my heart. When I found her, I didn’t know she wasn’t real, that she was just an illusion created to entrap me. I went willingly into her arms. Did you know that when she began to shift her form back to the clay from which she’d been made, she wept?”

My body jerked. I knew what he was talking about. I’d experienced it with her.

“Yes.” My voice was a rough whisper. “I remember.”

His eyes widened in shock. “You remember? You have A-ya’s memories?”

I didn’t want to admit the extent of the A-ya memory, but I knew I couldn’t lie. So I fashioned a small piece of the truth and gave it to him in short, tight words. “Only one. I just remember dissolving. And I remember A-ya crying.”

“I am glad you don’t remember anything else, because her spirit stayed with me, trapped there in the darkness, for a long time. I couldn’t touch her, but I could sense her presence. I think it was the only thing that kept me sane.” A shiver rippled through his body and I saw his hands begin to lift, as if he would literally try to push away the memory. He was silent for a long time. I thought he might be done with his retelling of the past, and I was trying to sift through the shock and disbelief in my mind to find a question to ask him when he began to speak again. “Then A-ya was gone. That is when I began calling. I whispered my need to be free to the world, and the world finally heard me.”

“Don’t you mean Neferet heard you?”

“It is true that she heard me, but it wasn’t only the Tsi Sgili who answered my call.”

I shook my head. “You didn’t call me to the House of Night. Nyx Marked me. That’s why I’m there.”

“Is it? I must speak only the truth or our dream disappears, so I will not try to persuade you by pretending I know more than I do. I will only say what I believe, and I do believe you heard me, too. Or at least the part of you that was once A-ya heard and recognized my voice.” He hesitated, and then added, “Perhaps Nyx’s hand was guiding your reincarnation. Perhaps the Goddess sent you to—”

“No!” I couldn’t listen to any more. My heart was beating so hard I thought it would burst from my chest. “Nyx didn’t send me to you, just like I’m not really A-ya. It doesn’t matter that I have some random memory that’s hers. In this lifetime I’m a real girl, with free will and a mind of my own.”

His expression changed again. His eyes soft ened as he smiled at me tenderly. “I know, Zoey, and that is why I have had such a struggle with my feelings for you. I woke from the earth wanting the maiden who had imprisoned me, to find a girl with free will fighting against me.”