Chapter 26
Jarot’s statue for the lost world had been placed in the front yard of the house that Samiah and the other Tarikians had been cannibalizing to repair the others. Three of which now bore scorch marks that had nothing to do with the collapse. That was three houses that families should be living in.
The remains of the house, being used for parts, was becoming a temple of sorts. The fireplace had been lit, the chimney standing tall even though it wasn’t needed as there was no roof to guide the smoke through.
It was a fitting temple for a broken god.
Pan could hardly demand more when people had less.
He liked the way what had been rebuilt for the temple was now made of stone, so it couldn’t burn, except a few plants which had been planted, one in the far corner, another in the wall, inviting nature into the temple.
A smile curved his lips. They knew him, even if he was not their preferred god.
He hoped that today would be better than Samhain.
Today, they had the moon turning in their favor.
New moon, new starts.
The Strega consecrated the temple to the god Pan, telling the crowd how she had been called to this city by him. She along with volunteers, would keep watch in the temple and keep the fire lit until the full moon, as was traditional.
There were a few grumbles from the gathered Tarikians about choosing to dedicate the temple to him when it should be to one of the other gods, which Pan expected.
People were used to the way their favorite gods used magic.
But Rhiannon was nowhere to be seen. Not that she lived in the city.
Like him, she flicked from place to place wherever she felt called or fancied to be.
Or had.
Now the only way he was getting somewhere was by foot or by convincing the dragon to give him a ride, neither of which Pan wanted to do. Besides, everywhere was in the same situation.
And plenty of places had it worse.
But he was getting to the point of wanting to kill for a decent roast or rabbit pie, followed by baked apples, honey, and cream.
The cream was easy. He could ask the ogres who had the deal with the farmer for a little. There must be beehives and orchards…
The rabbit, he would ask the werewolves for. What difference did it make if he owed them another favor?
The sun broke through the clouds as the Strega finished her chant. and everyone around him gave a low murmur of approval. It was a good sign, but it was not his doing.
Noah gave his hand a squeeze.
Had that been his doing? If he could make the sun appear through the clouds, perhaps he could wish for some rabbit pie.
He turned his head to watch as the dragon launched off a human building on the other side of the road and swept over the crowd to breathe the ceremonial fire to life for the first time.
There was a reason everyone was standing on the road and not in the temple—though technically, it was more of a shrine as it had no roof—no one wanted to be incinerated if the dragon got his direction and quantity of flame wrong.
As it was flame blanketed the stone wall before dying away after finding nothing to feed on, so only the fireplace remained lit.
The dragon had done his part perfectly.
Pan held his breath, hoping to feel a rush of magic.
There wasn’t even a trickle.
He was so tempted to stamp his foot and swear at the injustice.
What else did he need to do to fix magic…
and himself? But looking anything other than pleased was not the right thing even for a god without magic.
Besides, everyone else was entranced as if expecting the god to suddenly appear and fix things.
Even Noah.
If Pan had that power, he wouldn’t wait for the prayers.
Though technically he did need somewhere to send the magic he channeled, and it always worked better when there was something to attach it to, like a prayer or wish.
The petty annoyances only happened to a person because they were engaging in the behavior that had irked him. If they stopped, so would the curse.
“Silas, as acting lord, would you like to say a few words before casting the first prayer?” the Strega asked.
Her hair was white as she was in her crone aspect with the new moon, and she was at her most powerful.
By the time the moon was full again, she’d be youthful once more, but also magically weaker.
Pan released Noah’s hand and walked up the path. He paused at the sculpture for their lost world. But it wasn’t only for their lost world. It was also for the humans, with both worlds shown birthing the third.
Depending on where one stood, the statue appeared very different, revealing destruction or completion or merging.
It was truly magnificent. And while Jarot was not entirely happy with his carving, which was rougher than he wanted due to his hands now being more like paws, Pan liked the roughness.
It gave the statue an almost incomplete feel, as if it were waiting for the maker to come back.
His stomach grumbled like it was going to collapse, churning with hunger and worry about saying the right thing.
He’d been thinking about what to say for the last week, when Feryn had told him that he would not be attending the consecration and would come tonight.
Kirel was there with Linda and his niece.
After all, it wasn’t every day people got to see a temple being consecrated.
Pan suspected for those with lives that ran only for centuries or decades, they may never see one.
He’d lost count.
But just because he’d been thinking about it didn’t mean that he knew what to say.
So he’d decided to wait until he could sense the mood of the crowd.
There had been a part of him that was worried there would be no crowd.
But there was a good turnout, even if some of them were only there to witness the consecration so they could talk about it ten or twenty years later.
He hoped by then they had good things to say about him.
That magic had returned and that the birthing of a new world was complete.
He needed to save that thought for the speech. He turned to face the crowd.
“I’d like to thank you all for attending.
While the street is not where a temple to Pan would normally be constructed, this is a place of significance.
The human buildings on one side, ours on the other.
Not only that, this is where we decided to begin the rebuilding.
” He paused, noting the human reporter taking photos.
“And we will keep rebuilding no matter how many times our homes are burnt down. Because this is our world, too. Every act of destruction takes not only from us, but from humans, too. And every act of rebuilding and working together forges a stronger world. A world that none of us foresaw. Not even the Strega in the fate lines, although I am told they saw massive disruption.”
The Strega nodded.
Pan paced over to the stone table where a traditional quill and ink sat next to a much less traditional stack of what David called printer paper, which he had donated and had cut up into wish-sized slips. There were also pencils so that multiple people could craft their prayers once he was done.
“I know that Pan was not one of your city’s major gods and that each god wields their connection to magic differently.
However, at the moment, as I’m sure many of you have realized, there is very little magic.
” He looked out at the over fifty hopeful faces.
The beautiful elves, the hairy snouts of the werewolves, the craggy visage of the vampire, the mottled gray skin of the ogres, an out-of-place minotaur with his human husband, and one handsome selkie with his ocean green eyes and dark gold hair.
He had tripped and fallen into Noah’s magic, the same as any sailor seeking refuge from a storm.
No one had ever held that kind of power over him, and it should have been terrifying. But instead, it was a relief. It didn’t matter that he was broken; to Noah, it only mattered that he was trying.
Everyone watching was clinging to the flotsam leftover from the collapse of their world, with only hope keeping them afloat. How long until hope wasn’t enough?
He stared at the paper while everyone waited for him to write his wish. He wanted magic. He wanted rabbit pie and baked apples. He wanted to wake up in ten years and find the world a much better place where everyone had learned to coexist.
David’s history lessons were teaching him that, on this world, humans were not very good at that.
While he sometimes did not like the lessons, he did enjoy talking to David and learning to cook with him because David wanted absolutely nothing from him.
David’s concern was for his family, including Noah.
And he wanted to make sure that Pan was not going to destroy them.
He appreciated the honesty as well as the conversation.
Though the food was becoming worse while they waited for their winter crops.
“I’m also aware there has been much speculation about why I am acting lord. The death of your old lord wounded Feryn deeply, as did the loss of magic.” And his looks. “Some of you have heard my name before, Silas Wilde, in connection with Pan.”
The Strega wanted him to tell the truth and let the people know that their gods were suffering the same as them.
But how could he take that last drop of hope from them?
How could he admit that he was useless? He wasn’t even as good as a partially shifted werewolf with paws for hands.
It was Noah who was magical and figuring things out.
He knew who to talk to and if he didn’t, Linda did.
The only thing Pan was doing was telling them what his people needed. And it wouldn’t be long until his people went directly to them and cut him out.
No. He needed to maintain the lie.