7. Fireflies
7
FIREFLIES
Cassian
The Past
They walked until the lights of the city became speckles masquerading in the night behind them. The stone path at their feet turned to dirt, branching off between small cottages and farmlands on the outskirts of Augustus and leading them into a lush landscape of aged oak trees. Wildflowers decorated the soil between their twisted roots.
“I wouldn’t suppose you are leading me out into the middle of nowhere to dispose of me, are you?” Cassian rubbed his thumb and index finger together at his side, a ploy not to put his hand inside the confined space of his front pocket.
Finnian gave him a sidelong glance with a hint of a grin playing at the corner of his mouth. “I suppose you will find out soon enough.”
Cassian smiled to himself, peering ahead through the streaks of moonlight piercing the branches and glinting off the water. The tranquil lapping of a nearby stream harmonized with the call of frogs and crickets. He inhaled the musky, stale scent of the earth, ravishing in the cool air.
“It is nice,” Cassian said without thinking. “To walk and breathe in the fresh air.” It was a task he had spent years trying to do, unsuccessfully—even with the graceful guidance of Nathaira, or with the maddening need for release to ease his stress.
“I am happy to provide such pleasures.” Finnian pointed ahead. “Do you see?”
Above the stream and scattered amongst the forest were brief flickers of light. Smaller than raindrops. A fleeting glow disappearing and reappearing a few feet from where it previously was.
“Fireflies,” Finnian said with a pinch of enthusiasm. “I find them incredibly fascinating. They do not appear in the city, but only in places our light does not touch.”
Abruptly, he turned, veering off the dirt pathway and into the overgrown grass around his ankles.
Cassian stalled, hesitant to follow.
Finnian rotated and eyed him. “Are you afraid?”
“Hardly.” He dropped his head down to his boots, contemplating what it would do to him if he got his boots muddy.
“Take my hand and step where I step. We’ll keep them as clean as we can.”
Cassian looked up to Finnian’s outstretched hand and onto his playful smile, poking deep dimples on both sides of his mouth.
He staunched the warmth pooling in his chest from the sight.
Take his hand and be done with it.
Curse him and go home.
Cassian grabbed hold of Finnian’s hand, measuring the softness of his long fingers as they lightly clasped around him. Gently, he guided Cassian forward.
Pulses of Finnian’s power came in tiny surges, traveling up the tendons of Cassian’s hand and down his forearm. A side effect of touching a thing of witchcraft. Their magic lived within their bloodstream, often making its presence known without trying, undetectable to an average mortal or a lesser deity. Cassian found an odd pleasure in the sensation .
They made their way down the small slope and closer to the stream. Vines with large, white, trumpet-shaped blossoms decorated the trunks of the oaks, their roots gnarled deeply into the bank and their petals reaching for the waxing moon.
Finnian let go of Cassian’s hand and plopped down next to the tree.
He plucked one blossom from its stem and twirled it between his thumb and index finger.
“Moonflowers,” he said, staring down at it.
Cassian sat in the space beside him. Their arms grazed, evoking lightning beneath Cassian’s skin. A feeling well worth the stain of the damp soil soaking into his trousers. “They are nocturnal flowers, then?”
“Yes. They are my favorite.” Finnian looked beyond the flower to the ever-moving current of the stream. “They flourish in darkness, and I find something quite poetic about that.”
“Darkness is not as terrible as one would believe.” Cassian leaned back on the tree’s trunk, its bark rough against the layers of his clothes, mesmerized by the relentless motion of the stream. The sound was a lullaby to him. It had been ages since he gazed into a body of water absent of souls. “Darkness only scares those afraid of the unknown.”
Finnian’s probing stare tingled along the side of Cassian’s cheek. He kept his attention on the water, not confident in the reaction it would whisk awake within him if he met Finnian’s eyes.
After a long wave of silence, Finnian said, “Tell me more about yourself, Everett.”
Cassian scrambled to think of lies. Anything to make Everett more believable. Too much and not enough came to mind. The effort it would take to sort through it all would be taxing.
“I am tired,” he confessed with a sigh.
Finnian spun the blossom pinched between his fingertips, staring down at it. “Tired of?”
“Life.”
Finnian glanced over at him. “Do you wish to die?” A question asked out of genuine curiosity, not a threat.
Cassian shook his head, dismissing the ridiculous notion. The High God of Death, longing for death. What an anomaly that’d be.
“Nothing like that,” he said reassuringly. “I am simply realizing how much I lack enjoyment— fulfillment .”
“And what about this moment? Are you enjoying yourself?”
“I am.”
“Then do not overthink it.” Finnian flicked the moonflower blossom into the current gliding a few feet from where they sat. “Relish in the happiness you so desperately seek, as it is happening before you, and you are missing it.”
Cassian blinked at him, mildly baffled by his wisdom. It only pushed his intrigue further, kindling a ridiculous longing to peel back the young god’s layers, one at a time.
“Living in the present moment is not a skill I excel in,” he said. “But what of you? Tell me something about yourself.”
Finnian rested his head back on the tree and he let it roll sideways, facing Cassian. “What if I say that I do not wish to speak any longer?” His hooded gaze drifted from Cassian’s eyes to his lips.
The air thickened between them, clotting the oxygen in his lungs.
With Finnian’s head tilted back, it exposed the scape of his throat, the bulge of his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed. Cassian had this bizarre need to trace it with his tongue, bite down on it to see what sort of reaction it would stir in Finnian.
He was suddenly all too aware of his own breath, of Finnian’s flared pupils, and the flutter catching at the bottom of his stomach.
Finnian twisted his torso and leaned in, lifting an arm and sliding a hand around Cassian’s nape, guiding him closer.
Cassian slanted forward, utterly confused by the sudden silence in his mind. His mouth went dry as Finnian’s lips brushed over his, eliciting a tremor down his spine.
“Are you in this moment with me, Everett?” Finnian murmured, tenderly kissing the corner of his mouth.
Heat simmered and sparked in Cassian’s bloodstream. A longing he’d never felt before blossomed in his core, ravaging him piece by piece. The intensity of it caught his breath as Finnian’s question resounded in his mind.
You are Everett, not Cassian.
The reality hit Cassian like hailstone in his veins, freezing over his desire.
No matter how much Finnian irritated him, he could not deceive him this way. It felt wrong and too unlike himself.
It served as a sharp reminder of his purpose.
Finnian was still the young god stealing souls; the young god who’d declared time and time again his refusal to give up necromancy; who’d trapped Cassian in sigils and destroyed his altar. Cassian could not afford to sway on his task simply because Finnian’s personality, beneath his pompous attitude and infuriating skill of witchcraft, had depth.
Cassian forced his hand to lift from the grass and slip between their chests. “I am.” It came out low and gruff as he gripped the base of Finnian’s throat.
Cassian felt the upturn of Finnian’s lips against his cheek as he smiled. “I must say I am not opposed to choking, but know whatever you do to me, I will do to you tenfold.”
Cassian pushed the pads of his fingers into Finnian’s throat just enough to make it hurt. “What a fiery god you are.” The mellow tone of Everett’s voice transitioned into a richer, darker one.
Finnian stiffened beneath his hold and slightly pulled back, his eyes darting over Cassian’s face. Not once had Finnian mentioned his divinity.
The lust in his gaze evaporated into a frigid fire as he studied Everett’s face. “And who might you be?” The friendly ire in his tone reverted to its usual aloofness.
“It’s been a while, Little Nightmare.” As the words left Cassian’s mouth, he shape-shifted into his regular form.
Finnian yanked back.
Cassian shoved the young god firmly against the tree. “Ah, not so fast.”
The skin around Finnian’s eyes constricted—a visible trace of irritation. Though, his lips twisted into an obnoxious smirk. “Your life must truly lack enjoyment if you go through all this trouble to deceive me.”
Cassian wanted to reach inside of his twinkling gaze and snatch the smugness right out of it.
“You did trap me in a sigil. Or two.” Cassian’s fingertips slowly sank deeper into his skin. “And while witnessing you revive a dead dog from a trash bin was endearing, your actions are giving me a rather persistent headache.”
“It would’ve been fun to fuck a High God.” Finnian spat back. “You really should have waited ten minutes to reveal yourself.”
Cassian’s divine power swam through his blood, blackening the skin of his wrist and hand into the fingers hooked around Finnian’s throat. “You seem like a kind individual, undeserving of one of my curses. It is not too late to reconsider?—”
The chrysocolla pendant around Finnian’s neck began glowing fiercely, alluring Cassian’s gaze.
His grip around Finnian lessened for a quick second, and the young god struck a palm to Cassian’s chest, knocking him backwards. The impact sent a jolt of pain through his body as his back collided with the unforgiving ground.
Finnian’s hand went straight for the iridescent stone, and he gripped the pendant between his index and middle finger, tapping into its energy. “ Excitare ex somno ! ”
The trees swayed violently as a gust of wind rustled through their branches. A magical force that kept Cassian down on his back.
Glowing globes of milky light shot from Finnian’s pendant in all directions, halting in the air around him. Bone, then sinew, then patches of skin wove around the bright spheres.
Souls. He had been keeping them—waiting to turn them into ghouls—in his necklace this entire time.
A rotted hand coiled around Cassian’s shin, breaking him from his thought. The bone of his knee snapped.
He grunted through clenched teeth.
The bodies of the ghouls solidified around their spirits, taking an offensive formation around their master. Their dark, brittle bones were reinforced by the young god. Cassian could see the glow around them; it was like an oily flame, yet the color of snow.
Another pair of hands surprised Cassian from behind, swiftly immobilizing him by his shoulders.
Two corpses loomed over him, their decaying flesh clinging to their skeletal frames like a sheet draped over a clothesline.
One drove its bone fingers through Cassian’s shoulder.
He chuckled darkly at the twinge of pain twisting in his flesh. The suction of his knee-bone fusing back together reverberated up into his hip, and he lunged up and caught the ghoul’s face like a ball in his palm and squeezed.
Its skull shattered and its knees gave in, collapsing as if never coming to life at all. Its soul retreated to the pendant.
Cassian lifted his leg off the ground. The toe of his boot buried into another’s chest.
The ghoul flew up in the air and landed in the stream.
Cassian quickly rose to his feet as more ghouls swarmed him. Imbuing his right hand with divine power, he circled his palm above his head, creating a stream of slick shadows around him.
“Rest!” He bellowed the word as he closed his fist, and the ring of ruination shot outwards. It passed through the army of corpses, encircled around the young god’s pendant, pulling the souls like a cloud as it touched them.
Cassian’s power magnetized the glistening spiritual casings, rightfully releasing them from the husks of meat and marrow, as well as from the dreadful crystal, and holding them in the air.
He scoffed as he patted the dirty smudges from his sleeves. “Do you honestly believe your little ghouls stand a chance against me?”
Charcoal ribbons streaked with gold twisted out from Cassian’s back, gathering into a black-tinted mass that swirled and swelled over his head. Twisting left, he fixed his attention on Finnian standing on the other side of the stream.
The abyss flowed down from the tree canopies and the Errai emerged from within it, hidden in cloaks and masks.
“Collect them all,” Cassian ordered.
The velocity of their movements painted the forest in a disarray of magenta blue tendrils, wispy fine trails of smoke curling around trees.
Each member of the Errai approached an individual orb and coaxed it into their palms. The luminescence in the forest dimmed as the sea of stolen souls were guided home. When all had been retrieved, the Errai returned as quickly as they entered, trusting in their master’s ability to handle himself.
A menacing energy gathered in the atmosphere and nipped at Cassian’s skin.
Finnian lifted his hand, and a dazzling burst of magic materialized above his open palm, pulsating and swirling until it took the shape of a vortex. Its power rippled through the leaves on nearby branches. Cassian’s hair whipped in every direction.
A roar escaped the young god’s mouth as the swiveling nebula burst forth from his palm, ripping up roots and sending stones crashing into the nearby stream.
Cassian’s divine power enclosed around him like a shield, pushing back against the devastation.
A thunderous echo reverberated when their powers collided. The impact shuddered through the ground, quaking the forest’s foundation.
Cassian’s aegis disbanded and lifted like vapor as the magic fizzled into glittering specks.
He raised his chin and met Finnian’s fierce glower across the stream.
The young god stood barricaded by the vacant corpses of his ghouls, unafraid, careless, facing Cassian, of all deities.
It was painfully stupid, but Cassian couldn’t make sense of the uncertainty clouding his ability to put this young god in his place. Finnian’s confidence was infuriating. And yet, a decisive knot clenched in his gut when he thought about cursing him. Why ?
The moment in the tavern flashed in his mind. Finnian did not hesitate to intervene for the young woman’s sake. And in the alleyway when he revived the dog. The young god had a good heart, and for some preposterous reason, Cassian felt compelled to protect it.
“I do not wish to curse you,” Cassian said. “Stop hoarding my souls. All you have to do is agree.”
“Never.” Finnian lowered his chin, shrinking the visibility of his eyes beneath their lids. He stood fearlessly, the moonlight pouring across his dark hair. A remarkable sight.
Cassian yearned to chip away at his bold demeanor and expose his true emotions. “You let go of Arran. He returned to the Land.”
Finnian’s nostrils flared at the mention of his past lover, another sign of his anger. “Because that is what he wished.”
“You are unlike what I had imagined—cruel, hungry for power.” Cassian’s brow crumbled as he tried to reason with the young god. “You hold on to souls because you do not like endings.”
“Is that what you think?” Finnian laughed, the sound harsh, cutting. “That I do not long to torment those who have wronged me? My horrid mother and rotten siblings? I dream of all the ways I wish to make them suffer.” He inclined his head, bloodlust flashing in the sharp slit of his smirk. “Let me assure you, Lord Cassian , my heart is infinitely darker than you believe it to be.”
Cassian didn’t buy it. After their pleasant evening amongst the fireflies and moonflowers, he’d seen it. There was a softness in Finnian that he hid with apathy.
“And what of the souls you hold on to?” Cassian challenged, taking a step towards the stream. “Are you cruel to them?”
A frown tugged at the corners of Finnian’s mouth. A crack.
Satisfaction hummed in Cassian as he continued to push. “You care for them. You hang onto them because you are afraid of being alone.”
“They live at the hands of Fate, Ruelle and her twisted control, and meet tragic, nonsensical ends.” He bared his teeth as he spoke, his face contorting viciously. “Some never experience love or warmth. All because of the bodies they didn’t ask to be born into. They crawl through life for no other means than to survive. Some last a few months, others maybe a set number of years. In the end, they die and that is it.” A cynical sound scuffed out of him. “Tell me, Ruler of Death , what is the point of such despair?”
Cassian swallowed, his heart pinching. He had thousands of years’ worth of abhorrent memories. From his own life, from the souls he touched. No one understood life’s tragedies better than him. He’d witnessed it time and time again, as he had a landscape of his realm dedicated to the wandering souls, broken and too traumatized to move on from the pain they’d endured in their mortal lives.
The complexities of life, the purpose of balance, neither were his to understand.
“There is peace in my realm.” Cassian’s tone was gentle, assuring. He was convinced that cursing Finnian would only make his grim outlook on life and death worse. “It is not cold and they do not hurt for what they have lost.”
Finnian shook his head. “I do not care what you say. I will continue to hold onto souls.” Another foul smirk crossed over his lips. The harshness of it stabbed Cassian in the stomach like a kris. “For no other reason than to spite you for what you have taken from me.”
Cassian sensed the finality of his words and materialized across the bank, throwing his arm out to catch him. “Don’t!”
Scarlet tufts plumed in the air, their wisps furling around Cassian’s empty, clenched fist.