16. Chapter 15
Chapter 15
What is a god, you ask? A god is a being made of power. Power that was given to it by people and animals and the very world around it. A god is an idea made manifest, and every time that idea is thought of, prayed to, or feared, the god gains more power, becomes more real. It’s no wonder the Goddess of Death is so powerful.
~Maeve Arden, The Future of Magic and Dragons
Maeve
My father is not a genius, an artist, a warrior, or even very charismatic. There is one thing that he does better than anyone I’ve ever met, though.
Tell stories.
From the time I was a little girl until I sent him into the void, I remember the stories he told. There were gods and dragons, kings and princes and princesses, and little girls who didn’t go to bed when their father told them to. I especially remember those…
Tonight, he’s standing in front of the fire in his linen shirt and breeches, both of which are dirt-covered from a day’s work in the village. Sandor Arden is anything but regal, and yet, when he stands in front of the fire, no one can turn their eyes away from him. The only thing I can call it is stage-presence. It’s a way of being more than the storyteller. It’s about being the story. It’s about embodying these characters that are so large they take over, and that’s who you see in front of the flames.
For a people as long lived as the Immortals in this village, you’d think they’d have heard every story imagined, yet the same stories I heard as a child are fresh for them. The story of Lysara’s Loss is his current tale, and it’s obvious that they’ve never heard of it. Maybe it’s because Immortals seem to ignore anything to do with the gods, or maybe it’s because we want to hear about the story of a human becoming a goddess. Either way, it’s certainly a story only humans know, and tonight, the Immortals are getting a taste of a master storyteller doing it every bit of justice it deserves.
Using the fire as a backdrop is a dangerous business when the story is one of darkness and betrayal. My Da uses it to his advantage, keeping his face in the shadows and turning his body into a silhouette.
“Lysara was unlike the other gods of Nyth,” he begins. “She wasn’t created as they were. She was just a woman who’d been kind to someone no one else would show a pittance of mercy towards. In return, Eldrin, the God of Death, infused her with a spark of immortality. She was not made into a goddess, but she wouldn’t age. No sickness could find purchase in her, and mortal wounds weren’t quite so mortal any longer.”
He moves around the fire, his footsteps punctuating the words he says. “But that story is too long for tonight. Instead, we will focus on what happens next.” As if my Da had Fae blood running through his veins, the shadows that cover his face seem to twist and shift, turning his normal human face into a monstrous one filled with hate.
“Tonight, I’ll tell you the story of Lysara’s Loss . The one time in all of history that a human’s love was stronger than anything else, including a god. It all begins on the day that Lysara was given her immortality. It was a night, actually, full of shadowed watchers and silvered visages, and the world held its breath as Eldrin reached into her soul to place the spark of immortality. She never lost her humanity. Instead, it was enhanced. It was given strength and purpose and life beyond any that humans are used to.”
Da leaps into the air and spins, the shadows shifting and moving with him. The entire village of Aerwyn sits in rapt silence as they listen to a story that every human knows. I can’t help but think that his performance is anything but human, though. My mother had to have taught him tricks because I can’t turn away.
When he looks at us this time, the shadows have changed again, becoming soft and billowy. Beautiful really. When he moves, his body language is not that of himself. It’s… feminine ? “Lysara was born to live and die a beautiful human woman, but through kindness to a god, she was spared that fate. When the seed of immortality pierced her soul, she became something more. The spark transformed her physical body into that which was inside her. The woman who would save a monster from the darkness became the most beautiful woman in the world.”
Da smiles at us all and moves toward Rivertail as if he were speaking only to the faun. “And the God of Death himself fell in love with the woman he’d hoped to reward. Eldrin was not like Lysara. There was nothing human about him, and while Lysara was the kindest woman the God of Death had ever found, she could not fall in love with him. He was not human, and he would never understand the passion that filled her. Where humans meant so little to him, they meant everything to her. And thus, she pushed him away.”
Another spin, and we’re left seeing a monstrous visage. Like a skull made of shadows, the smiles are gone from Da, and we’re left with something reminiscent of death itself. “But Eldrin had fallen in love with the woman, and the God of Death had never experienced rejection. He pursued her with a ferocity unheard of. During the years that he chased her, Nyth became a dark place full of death and ruin and disease. Lysara continued to run, though. She knew that if Eldrin caught her, it would be for forever because gods do not die, and she was as close to a god as any human had ever become.”
This time, Da doesn’t spin. He wipes his hand over his face, and the terrifying shadows disappear, leaving that feminine face again. The soft one. “She ran for ten full years. For humans, it would be an impossible length of time to run, but for her, it was almost forgettable. She’d become immortal, remember, and time is strange to those who truly never age. It was only after she had run far enough to look behind her that she could turn around. It was the first time she’d seen what her chase had done to the world she loved so much and she knew she couldn’t let the world suffer like this any longer.
“She gave into him. She agreed to become Eldrin’s wife, and this began a period of peace on Nyth. The unusual couple lived together, and she learned about her husband. The other gods stayed far away, as Lysara and Eldrin spent their time in the Realm of Death and learned to appreciate the parts of each other that no others knew of. She was the perfect wife, giving Eldrin the attention he craved, but as with most things that the gods become infatuated with, he tired of his new bride. Instead of forcing her to stay trapped with him in his realm, he let her wander Nyth for years at a time as she’d done before he’d pursued her.”
Da’s face goes completely black then, even though he doesn’t move. “And in the dark, Lysara did the one thing that Eldrin had commanded her not to do. She fell in love with a mortal, a young man named Seren, who was both handsome and kind. He was not important to anyone. He was not a king or the heir to a fortune, but what does that matter to a goddess? No, he was a simple pig farmer. His hands were calloused, and his back had already begun to arch from the weight of his toils.
“But just as unusual as Lysara being kind to a monster, Seren did not pursue Lysara when she stepped onto his farm in search of shelter for the night. The most beautiful young woman he had ever seen asked him for refuge, and he offered his bed without the slightest hesitation. When he awoke in the morning, he left the young woman in his bed, and he went to work.
“She watched him from the window of his room. The way he worked. The way he treated the pigs and the mule. The way he respected the very ground he walked on. If Lysara’s truest gift was kindness, Seren’s was respect, the one thing that Lysara hadn’t found in her immortal life. When he saw her walk out of the cottage, he asked if she had enough food for her journey, not a leering glance to be found.”
Da shifts the way he’s standing, and the fire illuminates his face as he stares directly at me. “She decided to stay with him. Seren didn’t ask her to, and he certainly didn’t pressure her. No, Lysara asked if he would appreciate some help on his farm, and he accepted it in return for a roof to keep off the rain and food to fill her belly. Never once did he ask for more than the help she’d promised him, and not once did she offer anything more. They became friends. No, friends is the wrong word. They became family. They tied their lives together. For her, it was but a shooting star in a lifetime of night skies, but for him, it was everything.”
I swallow as I recognize the reality. He may be telling us about Lysara and Seren, but it’s so similar to him and my mother. “Never once did Lysara break her vows to her husband. Physically, she was as chaste as a priestess, but inside, she cared for the mortal more than she’d ever learned to care for Eldrin. Eldrin was a god, and gods do not understand life as humans do. This breath of a life may cause us to be frail, but we cherish each moment in a way that the gods cannot understand.”
Da frowns and turns toward Bog the Goblin. “But the gods do know one emotion. Wrath. Without a doubt, Eldrin was anything but stupid. The ties that bind gods together are very similar to the ones that tie the Fae together. He could feel her emotions through that bond, and he wanted to know what could make her heart sing the way that it did.”
Bog’s eyes are wide as he listens to Da. His head bobs up and down as if he knows anything about gods, and it makes me smile. “When Eldrin arrived at the cottage of Seren, he saw his wife staring at the young man. She’d known the man for a month while she’d been married to him for hundreds of years, and never had her heart sang like this. He knew it for what it was. Love. It was an emotion he didn’t comprehend, but one that he knew he couldn’t allow.
“He crossed the field before Lysara even knew he was there. She watched in horror as he stepped into the mortal world completely and reached out for the man she’d fallen in love with. Seren turned to her as she screamed, and their eyes locked at the same time that Eldrin touched his shoulder, separating his soul from his body and sending it to the Realm of Death.”
Da pauses for a moment and looks at me again, a smile on his lips. “Then Eldrin turned to his wife and said, ‘You are mine, and I swear that anyone you fall in love with will be taken from you. Anyone who lusts after you or falls in love with you will be taken from you. You made vows to me, and I will not forget them. You are free to wander but know that I am always watching.’ She stared at him, knowing exactly who and what he was. He was the God of Death and she had no powers whatsoever. But like her kindness, her hatred ran deeper than Eldrin could imagine.
“She did not tell him of her hatred, though he could sense it through their marriage bond. Eldrin didn’t understand his wife, though. He didn’t understand the depth of that anger. When he left her there in that field, he didn’t expect her to turn her anger into action. He didn’t realize how much she’d learned from him over the centuries being together constantly.”
Da’s movements stop suddenly. His feet—which had tapped out the rhythm to his words until now—are silent as his eyes move through the crowd assembled before him. “Lysara had learned that gods cannot be killed in the traditional sense. They are thoughts and ideas given power. It is why the God of Death is so powerful, even compared to the other gods. You cannot kill the idea of death easily. You can change who holds that power, though. You can change who is worshipped. Lysara set to work.”
The audience had been silent before. They’d sat without making a sound, but this realization, this shift in the story, shocked them. That a human could do anything to a god rocked an entire village of Lesser Fae.
“She went to every temple she could find, and she murdered a single priest or priestess in front of everyone there. She showed her face, and she proclaimed that it was not Eldrin who was the God of Death. It was she.”
“Eldrin didn’t know what had happened. A decade is nothing to a god, and he knew his wife was furious with him. While he was angry with her, he was patient, and he let her have her time. There was no danger to him since he was a god, and she was merely immortal. His power never waned, as he still had claim to the title of God of Death. Nothing changed for him.”
Da’s voice wavers for a moment, hesitation building the tension in the space, and the shadows flow over his face again, remaking the feminine mask. This time, there’s a touch of the monster in it. “Yet, much had changed for Lysara,” he says, his voice becoming more of a whisper than before. “Lysara was not the Goddess of Death, but she’d begun being recognized as the Goddess of Beauty. She’d grown stronger, and even in that short period of a decade, dozens of cults sprang up to worship her. At each of these cults, she appeared, and she murdered a single priest as she proclaimed herself the Goddess of Death as well.”
His feet move again as he crosses the fire, his gaze locking with a different person every few seconds, and the shadows slowly become more terrible with each word. “Then, when the moon hung low on a cold winter night, she walked into a village without a single shred of clothing on. Her powers were strong then. Not as strong as Eldrin’s, but more than most of the gods. She let out a shriek, and every single person in the village ran out of their huts. Each of them looked upon Lysara’s visage and lusted after her. Men and women alike desired the Goddess of Beauty. Their minds were drawn to her as they had never been drawn to another human. Their very souls yearned for her body. Eldrin sensed this, and for the first time in ten years, he appeared in the mortal world.
“He had made a promise to his wife that he would kill anyone who lusted after her. Before, she hadn’t been able to see him until he made himself visible, but this time, she was not the powerless immortal that he’d married. She had more power than anyone could have imagined an immortal human gathering in ten years. He paused to take in the amount of strength she’d amassed, and she smiled at him.
“Without hesitation at all, she said, ‘Eldrin, self-proclaimed God of Death and my servant, comes to this village to reap the souls of all because I command him. Tonight, you will all die because I appeared to you.’ Eldrin hesitates even longer. He’d made a magical vow. Breaking it wouldn’t kill him as it would kill any of us, but it would weaken him far more than he wanted to allow. Yet, if he killed these people, he would be doing exactly as she commanded. He didn’t understand what had happened, but he knew he couldn’t do as she said. Already, he could feel the power inside him beginning to fade.”
I can feel myself understanding what is going to happen next. But why? Why is Lysara trying to kill the God of Death? Why not try to break her marriage vows instead?
Da says, “Lysara moves toward him and takes the dagger that she had killed every single priest and priestess with and plunges it into his heart. Thousands of souls who had believed in their last moments that she was the Goddess of Death gave her power. Thousands of souls living in the Realm of Death who believed she wore the bone crown. They gave her the right to claim his power and take his title.
“That blood-soaked blade became the conduit for all the power of the God of Death. Flowing from her husband to her, Lysara made her claim to be the Goddess of Death true, and for the first time since the dawn of Nyth, a human became stronger than a god. For the first time, love overcame everything, even if it cost Lysara her soul.”
A hush settles over the audience as Da takes a deep breath and smiles. His hands spread out as he bows. The shadows flee his face, and when he stands up straight again, a smile teases us. “I hope you enjoyed the story,” he says.
I’ve heard the story told so many times, but I’d never heard it told just like that. I’d never felt so in it. I knew how it ended, but now… Now I wonder if that’s the actual end. Bog recognizes the lack of an ending sooner than I do. “But why, Sandor? Why did Lysara kill Eldrin? Now she doesn’t have Seren or Eldrin.”
And Da grins at Bog. “Are you so sure? She became the Goddess of Death. Where does the Goddess of Death rule?” He pauses for a moment as understanding rolls through us all. He nods and confirms what we’d realized. “Exactly. She rules over the Realm of Death. It’s where Seren lives. Eldrin, on the other hand, is a god and never had a soul, so he disappeared into the void forever. To this day, Lysara is the Queen of the Dead, and at her side is the soul of Seren Talys, her consort. Yet, her soul still mourns Eldrin. It was tied to him, and she will forever feel a loss at her husband’s death even if she hates him. Once you’ve bound yourself, there is no way out of the loss.”
A happy ending? A sad ending? It’s hard to tell. Maybe that’s the truth of all stories based on fact. There is no such thing as a story with a truly happy ending. There are always costs and losses. The best you can hope for is as much happiness and as little sadness as possible.
I smile at my Da as he walks toward me, and I try to remember that. At least I have these moments. I get to see my Da’s face again. I get to have Cole and the villagers of Aerwyn. I get to breathe the beautiful forest air and be enraptured by a wonderful story.
Because one day, not too far in the future, I may not be able to say the same.