Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
YEAR 200, ERA OF THE GODS
I ’ve never been to any of the gods’ temples. Not even to pay my respects. I tend to do that in the privacy of my own home, in the altar we have by our hearth, dedicated to all the gods.
It’s always seemed like the safer option. Papa used to tell me stories about dedicated followers who would trek to the temples to ask favors of the gods. One follower made a long journey to seek out the god of fire, only to arrive on a day when the god was in a horrid mood. He ended up getting caught in the crossfires of a fight between the god of fire and the goddess of water—he was burned to death. I had no desire for such a thing to happen to me by chance.
But of course, I was desperate enough to make this journey to the temple of the god of shadows.
I made the long trek across the island to the temple, and when I arrived, I was awestruck.
A winding pathway leads to it, one that is carved into the top of a steep mountain. There are no railings on either side of the pathway. The tallest trees I’ve ever seen loom over it, dousing the path in darkness. Small flames flicker on either side of the path, providing dim light so one doesn’t wander off the side and fall to their deaths. I walked the narrow pathway, doing my best to ignore the shadows hovering all around, staring with their bright red eyes.
I’ve seen his shadows before, of course. They follow the god wherever he goes, but having all their focus on me sent shivers down my spine.
Yet I’d traveled all that way, so I continued on toward the temple. The rectangular structure is made of obsidian, black and glittering. Beautiful. Large statues of gargoyles guard the open doors. I made it across the path and walked through the doors with my offering ready, hoping that it would be enough to summon the god of shadows, that he’d be willing to hear my plea.
Everyone knows what the gods like. The god of fire loves weapons, severed limbs, heads. The goddess of earth prefers beautiful flowers, ornate arrangements that can cost an entire month’s wages. The goddess of water loves jewelry, especially when it’s made from seagrass or shells or pearls. The rarer the better. The god of frost prefers blood sacrifices. And the god of shadows? Well, not much is known about him. Not even his name. He’s just known as Death to everyone across the land.
So I came with the only thing I have: a story. Everyone likes a good story. Bards are famous because of the stories they tell. The gods’ favorite mortals are those who can weave a good tale. It’s also the only thing I could offer.
I had one prepared. I’d practiced it over and over on my journey to his temple, expecting to have to say the words in silence, hoping they’d summon him. But as I walked inside, I was surprised to see the god of shadow already there. And he wasn’t alone. Khalasa, the goddess of stars, was with him.
I immediately tensed. I was worried, understandably, that they were fighting, that my fate would be the same as that poor soul my papa had told me about who’d visited the god of fire. But the god of shadows slumped, sprawled over his black throne that sat at the end of a long pool in the middle of the temple. The water was so dark it looked like blood. Maybe it was. The blood of all the souls he’d killed over the years. He wasn’t known as Death for no reason.
The goddess of stars stood beside him, her purple dress flowing around her, translucent in certain places to show her pale skin that looked like it had been kissed by the moon. Her long black hair flowed around her shoulders, full and luminous. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I’d never seen the gods so close before, and she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever set my gaze upon.
I approached the gods with a bowed head, reverent and respectful, careful not to make eye contact until they addressed me. How my heart thundered and my hands shook.
The goddess’s laugh tinkled through the air. “What a good little mortal,” she said. “You can look up, you know. We won’t smite you. Well, he might.”
All I heard was a grunt in response.
My head snapped up at that, and I arrived before them, bowing low, then straightening.
The god of shadows didn’t speak, just looked at me through his whirling black shadows, always in his presence. No one knows why these shadows are always with him, but there are rumors.
The goddess smiled, eyes twinkling, and she asked me to solve an argument they were having.
My blood ran cold. These were the types of games gods played, mortals their pawns. If I sided with her, would it displease the god of shadows? If I sided with him, how might she react?
I waited, silent, for her to continue.
She jabbed a thumb at the god of shadows, who scowled at her. She told me that Ragar, the god of fire, wanted the god of shadows to punish a village that had displeased him. The god of shadows thought that the other nearby villages might rebel if he did this. But Khalasa believed they respected the gods, would understand that if a village was destroyed, the gods must have had good reason.
This is a common occurrence. The gods regularly use the god of shadows to punish mortals. He is their weapon, the reason so many fear him.
She said the words so casually. Like it meant nothing for an entire village to be wiped off the face of the earth. I thought of the story I’d come here to tell, to offer the god of shadows.
“May I tell you both a story?” I asked.
Khalasa’s lips twitched, and she bowed her head in encouragement.
I remember clearing my throat, so nervous that I’d say the wrong thing and be smote right there. But I had to speak up. I had to encourage them to intervene and not let the hot-headed god of fire order the god of shadows to do such a thing.
This was the story I told: “There once was a bear who lived in a forest full of animals. A beautiful forest. Fish swam in the creek. Deer roamed the woods. Squirrels, raccoons, and other small creatures foraged and used the trees as their homes.”
Both the gods were silent, watching me intently as I told my story. I tried not to squirm and attempted to keep my voice steady as I spoke.
“The bear was the mightiest of the creatures, yet none of them feared him. So he decided to teach everyone a lesson. He ate all the fish in the creek. He ate all the deer that roamed. He smashed the smaller creatures. He roared at the birds until they flew away. The bear had peace finally. Word of his conquest would spread and everyone would see him for the mighty creature he was.”
The god of shadow tilted his head, and still, I forged on, nearing the end of my story, amazed I was still alive to tell it.
“The bear slept all winter, and when he awoke in the spring, the forest was quiet. Word of his conquest has indeed spread, and now, everyone feared the forest. With no bees to pollinate the flowers, they all slowly died. Without fish in the creek, the algae became overgrown, releasing toxic poisons into the air that harmed the trees. And with no deer or small animals to eat the vegetation, plants took over the forest, making it impossible for the bear to roam. He moved on to other areas, but everywhere he went, the creatures fled, terrified of him. The bear had not earned the animals’ respect. He’d gotten their fear, and now instead of the mightiest creature, he was the loneliest.”
I finished my story, my heart hammering in my chest. It was so loud I was sure the gods could hear it, could smell my fear.
Finally, after an agonizing silence, the goddess of stars broke into applause and squealed in delight. “You are an amazing storyteller.” She leaned forward, her eyes flashing with a look I didn’t recognize, but it soon became clear.
I didn’t end up getting the god of shadows’s help today. I got something better: the goddess’s.