Jinx's eyes sparked, the mention of her mother cutting through everything else. "You… you know where my mother is?"
"I do not know her exact location in the realms beyond," Nythera said, her voice softening a fraction. "But I know the depth of your desire to see her again. I will help you find her. But not now. First, you must walk the path you have chosen."
She extended her hand, the ball of starlight hovering just above her palm. "Take my blessing."
Jinx, without hesitation, reached out and placed her hand in the goddess's. A current, unlike anything she had ever felt, shot up her arm. It was a paradox—calm yet dangerously potent, peaceful yet humming with the promise of righteous vengeance. It felt like a storm contained within a deep, still lake. The energy flowed through her, weaving into her bones, her blood, the very fabric of her soul.
"I have given you a piece of my essence," Nythera said, her voice echoing slightly as the light transferred. "You will find new abilities awakening within you. Some are mine. And some will be uniquely yours, born from your own spirit. Remember this: the more true allies you gather to your cause, the more your power will grow. It is fueled by shared purpose."
The connection broke, and Jinx stumbled back a step, feeling overwhelmingly full and terrifyingly empty at the same time. "Thank you," she breathed.
"Do not thank me yet," Nythera warned, her form beginning to shimmer at the edges. "Your life from this moment will not be easy. It will be a path of constant danger. You must never give up, no matter the pain, the betrayal, or the cost. Do you understand?"
"I won't turn back," Jinx swore, her voice firm with a conviction that felt brand new. "I can't."
Nythera's smile was both beautiful and sad. "I hope you do not regret those words." She reached out once more, not to touch Jinx, but to the space between them. "We will speak again, big warrior."
Jinx felt a sudden, violent pull backwards. The garden, the goddess, the light—all of it streaked away from her as if she were falling through a tunnel.
Good luck, Nythera's voice echoed in the rushing silence. You are going to need a lot of it.
****
She woke up.
It was to the smell of crushed metal, cold earth, and blood. The pain returned in a dizzying, nauseating wave—the crushed legs, the screaming ribs, the ice seeping into her bones. She was back in the wrecked car, buried in snow and darkness, exactly as she had been when she died.
A sob of pure despair clawed at her throat. It was a dream. A cruel, beautiful dream.
But then, a warmth ignited in her core. It was a slow, deliberate pulse, like a second heartbeat. It spread outwards from her chest, a gentle, green-tinged light visible beneath her skin. Where it traveled, the pain receded. Broken bones knitted together with soft, internal snaps. Torn flesh sealed itself. The deep, fatal cold was burned away by this new, internal sun.
In minutes, the agony was gone, replaced by a throbbing, powerful vitality. She took a deep, shuddering breath—her first in this new life.
With newfound strength, she shoved the crumpled dashboard pinning her legs. Metal shrieked. She pushed again, and it gave way. Freeing herself from the wreckage, she faced the wall of snow blocking the shattered windshield. More was pouring in, ready to bury her for a second time.
Instinct took over. The stream of energy inside her, now a rushing river, demanded release.
A blast of pure, violent green energy erupted from her palms. It tore through the snow with a sound like thunder, vaporizing it and carving a temporary tunnel upward toward a pinprick of gray sky.
Gasping, she clawed her way up, using the melted edges of the tunnel for purchase. She heaved herself out of the grave of metal and snow, collapsing onto the unstable surface of the avalanche debris. The freezing air bit at her skin, but the cold inside her was gone, replaced by a furnace of fury.
She lay on her back, staring at the bleak, cloud-choked sky, absorbing the impossible truth.
It was not a dream. The goddess was real. The blessing was real. The power coursing through her veins, healing her, that was devastatingly real.
And with that certainty came the memory of Nythera's other revelation. Fenris planned this.
A surge of anger, hot and pure and darker than any she had ever allowed herself, rose from that new, deep place within her. It empowered her.
I am going to take everything back, she vowed to the uncaring sky. Every coin, every shred of dignity, every moment of peace he stole. I will strip him bare and make him pay.
She sat up and looked at her hands, where traces of green energy still flickered around her fingertips.
And from this day forward, no man will ever decide if I am useless. I will grow so strong they will fear to even speak my name. They will bow.
The thought wasn't a fantasy. It was a new, unshakable truth.
This was her calling. Perhaps it always had been.
She held her own fox tail for a moment, a gesture that had once been comforting. She was alive, but she was in the middle of nowhere, at the bottom of a cliff, in the freezing snow.
First, she needed shelter. Then, she would find her way back.
The stars gave her just enough light to see by as she trudged through the deep snow. She followed the path of least resistance, moving away from the wreckage of the car until she found what was left of the tarred road. It was buried under thick snow, but it provided a slightly firmer path.
She shivered violently as she walked. Her torn gown was useless against the cold, and her tail, though fluffy, was soaked and matted. Each step was a fight, dragging her feet through the heavy white powder. The eerie silence of the snow-filled landscape was broken only by the crunch of her steps and the howl of the wind. Her eyes darted around, watching for the glow of rogue beast eyes in the dark. She had nothing to defend herself with but her new, untested power.
Then she heard a high-pitched shriek, tearing through the silent night. She looked up.
Something was falling from the sky, trailing fire like a comet. It was moving too fast, too chaotically, to be a ship on a normal course. A starfighter. She'd only ever seen them on newsfeeds—sleek, deadly vessels used by the military and the richest clans. It was a ball of flame and black smoke now, spiraling down directly toward her stretch of the road.
Panic seized her. She started to run forward, then realized that was the direction it was falling. She tried to turn and run back, but the deep snow grabbed at her legs, turning her attempt into a stumbling, slow-motion struggle.
The dying starfighter roared over her head, so close she felt the blistering heat of its passage. It crashed into the snow-covered woods just a few hundred yards ahead with a ground-shaking WHUMP and a shower of sparks that lit up the night. A pillar of black smoke began to coil into the sky, blocking out the stars.
Jinx crouched, coughing as the acrid smell of burning fuel and melted metal reached her. Her heart hammered against her ribs. That's not my business. I am not going to check it out.
But a strange pull tugged at her core. Something in that wreck called to that sense. It wasn't a voice, but a feeling. A pulse of desperation, or fury, or… purpose.
Against every instinct for self-preservation, Jinx found her feet moving toward the crash site. She moved cautiously, the green energy flickering unconsciously around her hands, ready for whatever—or whoever—she might find in the burning debris. This was not her plan, but the pull was undeniable.