Chapter 24 #3
August shoots Otta a dangerous glare, commanding that she stay quiet. He turns back to the god.
“How are we to address you?”
“Gods do not have names,” she says plainly. “But this mortal form came named Seefin. You may address me as such.”
“Seefin, thank you.” He ignores Otta’s scoff.
“We can come to an agreement. My camp was not aware that we were intruding by setting up in Pashe.” Councilmember Naov is dead, in any case, so he’s lost the advantage of operating in a province where they might have had an army at their disposal.
“I recognize your claim on the province. But Talin is struggling to hold itself up as a kingdom while Calla Tuoleimi occupies the capital. Spare us. When she is defeated and I return to San-Er, Pashe is yours.”
Otta does not like the proposal at all. She starts to rise, wanting to argue with August directly, and August, though he has never attempted this before, draws on the excess qi in the air.
The pool of blood from Naov is growing larger and larger; August scoops from it, flicks it Otta’s way.
He didn’t mean to do much. He has not enacted a sigil, has not concentrated his qi to achieve anything more than a light tap on her forehead.
But Otta understands the warning. The way their father used to flick her temple if she was misbehaving, her last spoiled demand of the palace staff going too far.
“Interesting proposal,” Seefin says. “But I fail to see what I get out of it. Pashe is mine whether I kill you now, or spare you and am granted with it later.”
“Because after I take the throne, there will be nothing more in your way,” August replies evenly.
“Else you kill us, then Calla Tuoleimi and Anton Makusa remain two mortal thorns in your side. Do you think they will respect your claim? They will challenge you until they have every piece of the kingdom.”
Seefin seems to be considering the matter. More than that—acknowledging it. She agrees with August’s evaluation of what would come following this minor victory.
“You know who she is,” August adds, to drive it all home. “Calla Tuoleimi. Who she used to be.”
It is a gamble. In truth, August has no clue who the fuck Calla is. But he pays attention—he has observed the discomfort in Otta’s eyes when she’s faced with this question. She’s nothing more than a false god now.
There are only so many options that warrant such a response.
“I will accept this agreement,” Seefin decides. “No need to find me. I can sense wherever you go on my soil.”
She turns to leave. August scrambles upright. His knees are caked with mud.
“If I may ask…,” he calls after her, “why?”
He should be weeping to the skies in gratitude that his camp was not obliterated.
That he has reached an accord at all when, otherwise, this proof that the old gods are real, that the old gods walk the earth, should be such a world-shaking revelation that August ought to abandon his war and accept that there are greater powers who can take the kingdom from him as easily as candy from a child.
“Why?” Seefin echoes, halting in her step.
“You incapacitated us with ease. I imagine you can do the same across the kingdom. Why stop there?”
Seefin almost appears amused. “I have lived in Pashe for many years, so it is mine, and I shall defend it. I do not care to conquer the land beyond. I would have to fight with others of my kind. Do you think I am the only one from the heavens to regain my power?”
The cold sweat that had been gracing August’s back is prickling into ice. This is far greater in scope than he’d imagined.
“Why?” he asks again, quieter. “Forgive me for such ignorance. The rulers who came before me have wiped everything from us. Why does Pashe matter to you?”
“Why shouldn’t it? It is all I have left. Once, I was responsible for all abundant soil. I was the living, breathing soul of mortal society.” Her eyes flash when she looks skyward, into the dark clouds. “I rule it no longer. And so I take a fraction. I make my peace.”
“I offer my gratitude to you.” August takes a shallow breath. “But I don’t understand. If you returned to the heavens, there must be endless worship for you. Why choose to be a mortal ruler over an old god?”
This time, Seefin finds nothing amusing about his ask. She shakes her head. “So you don’t know who your Calla Tuoleimi is, after all.”
August’s heart lurches to his throat. He has misstepped. Given away his ploy.
“I do not.”
“Then you should ask your royal sister.” Seefin points, as though there might be any doubt who she is talking about. Not only Otta Avia, but the queen who almost ruled Talin. “Those two together tainted the heavens.”
Otta grits her teeth, rising. “Do not blame me for—”
“Your power returned,” August says, cutting in. “But you did not.”
“We cannot.” Even as Seefin walks away, her voice is loud, all-encompassing across the camp. “The heavens are empty. They have been empty since we left. And they will continue to sit empty, because our king died on earth as a mortal body. None of us can go back.”