27. Come Back to Me
27
COME BACK TO ME
Cassian’s stomach turned to the strong stench of heat and metal coating the air.
He stood before Finnian, slumped in the chains, watching the pink of his organs mend back together. Blood streaked his skin; it puddled at his feet; a current of it flowed across the floor and dripped into the flaming vortex at the room’s center.
The inferno came from Acacius’s realm. It split through Moros and raged Chaos.
“He’s a stubborn little shit,” Shivani said from beside Cassian. She mindlessly twirled one of her knives between her fingers. “I torture him and then let the executioners have their way with him. He still refuses to talk.”
Cassian’s jaw pulsed at the visual. He clenched his hands into fists inside his pockets.
How did he tell someone the weakness of the one he loved, knowing full well they would exploit those weaknesses to hurt them? Those treasured pearls were guarded in his hand. From the moment Finnian opened up to him, he vowed to never do anything to abuse Finnian’s vulnerability. His trust and comfortability meant everything to Cassian.
I cannot afford to hold back any longer.
Alke had not been found, and the longer time went without the blood, Cassian feared Ruelle would do something to proclaim her threat. He had no way of protecting Finnian from her.
A sickness clumped in Cassian’s throat. “When you torture him, target his left ear. Any injury to it will make him anxious. He cannot hear out of his right one due to an injury he received during a fight with his mother.” Cassian swallowed thickly. “Cut his hair off. It will trigger him, as he values being autonomous.”
Shivani glanced at him. Not once had she pulled for information from Cassian. He knew she was doing everything she could to learn the things that would set Finnian off herself, rather than involve him anymore than he already was.
Time was running out, though.
A paralysis pricked in his chest and down his arms as he turned to leave.
Make this work. You have to get through to him.
He stopped at the door and added, “His biggest fear is to be powerless against another. Put him in a situation that reminds him of how helpless he is.”
Shivani remained quiet for a moment, as if she were giving Cassian a respectable second to hold himself together.
“I understand, my lord.”
An hour had passed.
Cassian stood over him, stomach shriveling at the sight. Tears filled his eyes and dripped down his cheeks at the vicious garnet puddle seeping across the floor, collecting around his shoes.
Finnian hung limp from his chains with a knife buried in his sternum, another lodged in the side of his neck, in his left ear canal. Slowly, agonizingly bleeding out. A permission granted by Cassian. What was he thinking?
I cannot do this.
The ends of his fingertips numbed as he brought his hand up to clutch his chest. A sharp twinge prodded within.
Through his divine power, Cassian could hear the oozing of blood from arteries, filling the floor like sap, the slow thudding of Finnian’s heartbeat like a weakening whisper, the wheezing of lungs as they collected with blood.
Cassian attempted to breathe through the closing of his throat. The taste of copper coated his tongue. The sharp twinge in his chest grew worse, spearing straight through his chest cavity and coming out on the other side. He felt the pain lance between his shoulder blades.
What have I done?
He stepped back. The blood squished underneath the sole of his shoe. A shudder ran up his leg and over his spine. His stomach twisted and a sickness climbed up his esophagus.
I cannot do this ? —
He pulled at his tie, his breaths shallow and broken. Spots pricked in his vision. He hunched over. His hands came down on his knees. A sob broke through his hyperventilating.
He lifted a shaky hand up to his forehead, sticky with a cold sweat.
I cannot ? —
He squeezed his eyes shut.
If he remembers, it will all be over.
The torture will end.
Divine power thrummed in Cassian’s veins, pouring out like inky ribbons blotched in water. They swam around Finnian and enclosed him in an illusion.
You are not here. You are home. In the comfort of your apothecary room, scribbling notes within your grimoire, a piece of licorice in between your teeth, the soft bubbling of a potion in your cauldron. As you work, you think about who you loathe most in this world.
Cassian felt the illusion weave in the depths of Finnian’s mind, and he stood. Shoulders stiff and eyes bleary with tears, he headed for the door. If he didn’t leave now, he would give in and unchain Finnian. Beg for forgiveness. Let him go free.
Cassian went to grip the knob, but his hand traveled straight through the iron handle—as if he were in an illusion himself.
He felt the color drain from his face. Nausea burned in his gut as he reached through it again and again.
Needle-thin thread snagged around his fingers and ripped them back. The bones in his knuckles snapped like twigs.
Ruelle.
He ground his teeth, glowering through the moisture in his eyes at the gilded twine slackening around his reconstructing fingers.
She is going to trap me in here ? —
Make me watch while he ? —
Then he saw it: Ruelle orchestrating her razor-sharp threads to rain down all around her, ethereal and slicing through Finnian like he was made of paper. Severed and split apart, legs unattached from his body, like a soul in the Serpentine Forest after an Achlys freshly feasted on it.
He gasped for air as his whole body tremored.
Another image forced into his mind: Finnian lying on the ground, wheezing, blood soaked down his face, eyes steady on Cassian, a smile curling across his stained lips. Dying .
Panic ignited in Cassian’s chest.
A warning.
He squeezed his fingers into a fist and ripped his hand from Ruelle’s threads. They split and dissolved, littering the air like sparkling dust.
Cassian pressed his fist against his forehead, his chest sprinting in uneven breaths.
He was running out of time .
The luminous scape of the Land of Entity bled through the open window overlooking the round table. Each Council member sat at the respective places in their thrones.
Cassian leaned his weight into his elbow on the arm of his own throne, chin propped in his hand, covering a portion of his mouth as he listened to the conversation.
“News of the High Goddess of Eternity has spread across the Mortal Land,” Azara said, her feelings on the matter ambiguous as she spoke in her usual curt tone. She flicked her sharp gaze around the table, her posture straight and her vibrant orange strands braided and pulled back from her face, emphasizing the sharp angle of her cheekbones. “Temples and churches are being erected all over in her name. Mortals who did not believe in us are converting. All because of her.”
“Chaos is brewing,” Acacius said, his expression grim. The skin around his eyes was pulled tense, and he wore a straight line on his lips. Though Cassian did not miss the way he wrung his hands in his lap. A tic he only expressed when he was anxious. “Deities are unnerved by the Himura demigod, and the immortal Himura witch.”
“Deities are unnerved by Naia because she has not made her feelings known,” Ruelle defended. “They see her as Mira’s daughter and are fearful of what they do not know.”
The knot in Cassian’s stomach constricted at the sound of her voice.
“It is only a matter of time until praises ascend Naia onto the Council.” Iliana rested back on her throne, the exhaustion palpable in her golden gaze.
“Preposterous.” Acacius formed fists in his lap. “She is married to a Himura.”
“It appears you have unresolved prejudice against the Himura bloodline,” Ruelle snapped, eyes twisting around him.
Acacius whipped his head in her direction, glowering, “When they have the blood to kill us, why yes, I do.”
“ They do not,” she corrected coolly. “Only their demigod offspring.”
“And what happens if Naia bears another child?”
“She has free will to do as she desires.”
“And the children?”
“ Enough ,” Iliana’s voice raised.
Ruelle pursed her lips, cutting her eyes away.
Acacius continued to glare at her.
“Word of her title is all over the mortal news stations. They are beginning to idolize her,” Iliana said matter-of-factly. “As her story and title continue to make headlines, the mortals will only come to adore her more. Because of her presence alone, they no longer shun the Himura clan.”
“What of the deities?” Azara asked. “There is division among them. Those on the opposing side will eventually go after the child.”
“ If Naia ascends onto the Council,” Iliana said, “it will calm the gods. We represent order and law, and if she is a part of us, they will trust that she, nor her family, carries no ill intent. Those who go after the child will be reprimanded.”
Acacius scoffed grudgingly, directing his disapproval to Iliana. “Protect her god-killer offspring? Mark my words, Sister, the Himura demigod will use its blood to end us all.”
Iliana eyed him, composed and regal, not the least bit riled by his outburst. “It would be best for you to remember the reason the Himura bloodline exists, Brother. All things must have a balance. It has been five years since Naia returned to Hollow City, and the peace has not been disrupted. The Himura witch, nor the child, have stepped out of line.”
“If they do?” Azara asked Iliana. “Their punishment?”
Iliana twisted to look at Azara, her long blonde hair brushing over her shoulder. Both held each other’s intense gazes. “We will treat them as if they are gods, and they will be punished as one.”
The muscles in Cassian’s jaws flexed.
If Ronin or Ash stepped out of line, it would be his responsibility to punish them. A curse, time in Moros, whatever it may be—normal protocol he was typically unfazed by.
However, Finnian had worked too hard, sacrificed too much, to lure Ronin to Hollow City and hand it over. Not only that, but Naia was of grave importance to Finnian, and the idea of inflicting torture onto Finnian’s brother-in-law or nephew rolled his stomach.
“This all started because word got out of her title.” Acacius scowled. “By the fucking mouths of Finnian’s organizations that he left behind.”
I will right my wrongs.
Finnian’s methodical plots amazed Cassian. Though the dread swelling inside of him left no room for pride. It appeared Finnian was accomplishing everything he set out to do.
“Brother,” Iliana called, snapping Cassian out of his introspection. All heads pointed in his direction. “You have been awfully quiet. Tell us your opinion on the situation.”
Cassian flitted his gaze over each deity sitting before him. There was a reason he and his siblings created the Council thousands of years ago. If they so desired, they could destroy the universe. The Council was law, yes, but for those sitting around the table, it was order, balance. One could not act without others' permission. A power without freedom.
Cassian fixed his attention onto his sister, ignoring the scrutiny of Ruelle’s gaze, like a hand trapped around his throat. “Naia becomes a member of the Council. We can keep her power under control, as well as the actions of the Himura bloodline. The uproar and uneasiness among the deities will settle, and those with opposition can be met with retribution.”
Iliana passed him a small smile of gratitude. He recognized the relief set in her tense shoulders beneath her tailored, button-up blouse. “Then it is settled.” She rose from her throne and smoothed out her blush, knee-length chiffon skirt. “Meeting adjourned.”
Azara disappeared like a breath, the sound of her departure punctuated by the sparks of fire cracking in the empty space of where she sat.
“I suppose time is ticking then.” Ruelle twisted her head at Cassian with a demeaning smile playing on her lips. “Wouldn’t you agree, Lord Cassian?”
A spiraling pang shot through his chest.
There was a distinct manner in her voice only he could decipher.
Your time is up.
The wails of Moros intertwined in a single, haunting ensemble, filling the corridor and swarming Cassian. The oppressive warmth coated his skin, forming beads of sweat across his forehead.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d stood there, face pale, staring at the silhouettes from the flickering sconces bouncing off the stone door.
On the other side, he could hear the ragged breath Finnian drew, the groans slipping out in between. The stench of flayed flesh coated Cassian’s nostrils and down the back of his throat.
Shivani had briefed him before she’d left. Finnian’s fortitude was slowly wavering. She’d managed to slice through his mental barrier by severing his hair. Each lock cut by her precious knives had chipped away some of his fight.
Cassian was not foolish enough to think Finnian would give in, though. That he would enter the room and somehow get Finnian to confess where Alke hid. He was much too stubborn to make things easy. If anything, Shivani had only pissed him off and provoked his sense of spite.
Cassian was at a loss.
Which curse will you choose?
He had many in his arsenal. Less severe ones that mimicked mortal diseases, to ones that attacked and festered the mind.
The tightness in Cassian’s chest reached up to his throat, squeezing the breath out of him.
He knew which one to go with. The stronger mental stamina the deity possessed, the more brutal of a curse they would need to be under in order for Cassian to get results. It was his protocol—weighing his victims' personal limitations.
Cassian’s heart raced, his pulse spiking with indecision. Tension ached in the muscles down his neck, his shoulders, his back—his body begging him not to step inside the room.
It will work out in the end , he reassured himself. It must.
The curse would only speed up the process. Gnaw away at Finnian’s mind, and, while doing so, perhaps uproot the memories of their past.
Cassian couldn’t stop envisioning how it would go—Finnian with venom in his eyes, the pain branding his face as Cassian dealt the blow.
Panic quivered his insides like a turbulent flight.
He pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, desiring to release the scream trapped in his throat.
I don’t want to do this.
He dropped his hands and blew out a shaky breath. Adjusted the cufflinks of his sleeves.
You are Cassian, the High God of Death and Curses.
Straightened the tie at his neck. Smoothed the lapels of his suit.
You took his father, cursed his sister, and tried to steal his nephew.
Slicked back the incessant piece of hair that perpetually fell in his eyes, and pushed back his shoulders.
Just as he did in the past, Finnian loathes you for everything you are, everything you have done to him.
He blinked away the tears stinging in his eyes, focusing on the smooth granite of the door.
For a fleeting moment, he was back in that crowded mortal street standing outside the apothecary, its windowsills cluttered with pathos and ivy and various-sized bottles, advertising medicinal remedies.
Just like you loathed each other before.
A light in the darkness.
Cassian held the memory close as he readied his divine power in an ominous cloud, and teleported inside the room.
Inky mist drifted over the Serpentine Forest like a grim curtain. A chill nipped at Cassian’s cheeks as he stood at the mouth of its entrance.
Finnian had broken out of his cell in Moros by learning the mechanics of the serpentine bars. A feat Cassian had expected, hoped for, even.
He held up the vial, its silver substance incandescent under the midday sunlight of the Land.
There was no reason to keep Finnian locked up in Moros now. With the curse nibbling away the barriers of his mind, he would either crack and give up the blood, or, if the Universe decided to be kind, it would eat away at the magic altering their memories. Either way, Finnian had given him the binding potion, and he intended to use it.
Regardless of Finnian’s resentment, it was enough to have him near Cassian. His presence, the sound of his voice, to staunch the wound oozing in Cassian’s heart.
A hiss of air and divine power sounded behind him.
He casually tucked the potion inside his pocket as Acacius came to stand beside him.
“I hear he did a number on my executioners,” Cassian said.
“Any idea how to reverse a hex?” Acacius gave him a sidelong glance, the ends of his mouth curling in a smirk. “Better to go assist him now, lest the Achlys have their way with him.”
“They know not to touch him.”
A beat of silence.
The playfulness in Acacius’s demeanor shifted, and he turned his head, revealing the somberness across his face. “I presume you are doing everything you can to get the demigod’s blood.”
Cassian’s nerves cringed at the mention of the blood—of Ruelle. He was sick of it all.
He leveled Acacius with a dangerous look. “Do you think I would’ve cursed him otherwise?”
A melancholic shadow passed over Acacius’s features. It gleamed in his golden gaze, steadfast on Cassian, pained and remorseful. “Cassius, I will not stand by and let you kill her.”
Acacius’s loyalty to Ruelle burned furiously through Cassian. He stepped up into his brother’s space. “But you will stand by and let her kill me?”
Acacius’s eyes widened. “I—that’s not—” He shook his head, searching Cassian’s face in stupid bewilderment. “She has no intentions of doing such a thing.”
Cassian scoffed, smiling harshly. “Explain why else she’s gone to such lengths, forcing me to locate the demigod’s blood.”
“She intends to confiscate it. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Cassian shook his head, truly dumbfounded by his brother’s ignorance.
Acacius latched onto his arm. “Brother, she is uneasy at the moment, because she knows you wish her dead. That is all. I swear to you, I will not let her end your life. Nor will I let you end hers. There is a middle ground here.”
Cassian barked out a laugh, scrubbing a hand down his face. He was at a loss for words. The effort it required to convince Acacius was too taxing. A mental effort Cassian did not have.
He yanked his arm free from his brother and turned his back on him. “Think what you must, Acacius. Ruelle is lying, and it is not me who she is lying to.”
The village of souls were in celebration. Dogs crowded at Cassian’s feet. The rays of sunlight soaked through his pores. The anguish deteriorating in his heart lightened.
Finnian was at his side, mocking the names of his Land, smiling.
It was not a dream.
“Can you tell me who Everett is?”
I can tell you for as long as you wish.
The night smothered the Land.
Cassian collapsed against the bench in Finnian’s Grove, heart squeezing with a pain that made it difficult to breathe through. The curse was hurting Finnian. Something Cassian had inflicted upon him. A pain brought on by his own hand.
He stared vacantly at the patch of white trumpet blossoms.
They are my favorite.
The back of his nose stung at the memory.
They flourish in the darkness and I find something poetic about that.
Cassian longed to hear him say it again, with their one day nowhere in sight.
The bleakness of their reality bruised his chest. An agony that felt like it had sunk straight into his marrow, anchoring him further down. He was growing weary from the weight of it.
Footfalls thudded down the pathway behind him.
Before he had a chance to turn around, a gust of heat roared against his nape. The vibrant blood-orange glow of the fire caught in his periphery, and he teleported out of the way.
The grove burned. Embers dusted the air. Hints of rosemary and sage infused in the smoke. The hawthorn leaves withered, their branches crumbling. The moonflowers shriveled on their stems and fell to the charred ground.
Finnian’s silhouette shone through the inferno, his arm extended, fueling the destruction of his own precious grove.
Hysteria seized Cassian’s chest like a windstorm.
No. This is all I have left of him.
The moments they’d shared, the love, all of it seemed to be in another lifetime. Perhaps an illusion Cassian had conjured up to trick himself into a delusional state of happiness.
Nothing they had seemed destined to last.
The heat of the flames rippled across his face and stung his eyes, already filling with tears.
As he watched their love burn, he thought of Ruelle, and how this was all she desired from the start. Everything he and Finnian had was smoldering before his eyes, becoming nothing but wisps of what once was.
“You are Everett.” Finnian’s grip released from Cassian’s collar, his tan complexion paling at the realization.
That cruel spark of hope relit inside Cassian’s chest.
He caught Finnian by the forearm, clasping his fingers deeply into skin. “What is my name, Finnian? My real name.”
Come back to me.
His heart split like thin paper as Finnian wrenched away and curled over, gripping at his head. A pained sound tore from his lips.
Cassian held onto him, his pulse jumping. “Finny?”
Fear, shame, guilt, they prodded him, knowing the source of Finnian’s pain came from the curse.
Come back to me.
Frenzy trembled in Cassian’s limbs.
His breath held as he studied every motion, every shift of muscle and skin on Finnian’s face.
He wanted to get down on his knees, beg, plead, tell him everything about their past. They were almost there. Almost. If he could just remember.
Come back to me.
“Cassius,” Finnian whispered. “Your real name is Cassius.”