1. Chapter 1
Chapter 1
Viola
I have made a lot of stupid decisions in my life, but none as calculated as this one.
I knew. I knew that going to speak with Himureal alone was a bad idea and was not going to end well for me, and yet I still did it.
For once in my life, my motives were pure, and look where it got me.
In a dirty cell, my magic suppressed and buried by the slag that's built into the very walls of this dank and empty prison, staring at the man who declared ownership of me and attempted to force my hand into his own.
And he's my fucking high priest.
I'm not sure how I know, but it is instinctual when I look at Zeph. Like a part of me that I didn't know was missing finally came back to me.
"Hello, high priest," I sneer, glaring at his hand that made its way to the top of mine as I grip the bars of my cell. I don't care about the way my hands on the bars feel like bugs are under my skin. I want to be as close to him as possible, to look him in the eye when he realizes who I am to him, and I reject his draw .
But he shocks me by dropping to his knees.
The silence is uncomfortable, punctuated only by sobs from the red-haired man at my feet.
I've never been one for outward displays of emotion, and this pushes my limit. If there weren't these bars between us, I have no doubt I'd be shoving him away from me with my boot.
"Viola, I am so sorry," he begins, sitting up and back on his heels. His beard is well-kept, his hair groomed, and he's dressed smartly in dark slacks and a button-up shirt. Though there has been no physical change in him, the entire air around him is different.
He looks at me with those green eyes, so similar to Mace's, shimmering with repressed tears. What reason would he have to cry?
He's the one who has been living it up with Himureal, doing the God's bidding - if Himureal is to be believed. He's the one who attacked Tulip and forced all of us to restrain him physically.
What could he possibly be crying over?
"I don't know how you ended up here, Viola, but I will do whatever I have to to get you out of here. Himureal has awful things planned -"
I cut him off. "What are you doing here, Zeph? Why are you the one that is bringing me my rations?" I know why, of course. Himureal told me as much during some of our clandestine meetings. But I want to hear it from Zeph's mouth. I want him to be the one who tells me just how much he screwed me over .
Just how much he betrayed his true position as my high priest.
"After you left, my shame and anger twisted me," he says, pushing the food through the small latch in the cell. "Eat, please."
I sit on the slightly damp ground across from him, pick at the food, and sip the water he's provided me while he talks. It's a loaded plate, with a large sandwich and some fruit. I chew the fruit slowly, my stomach still sour and churning from whatever it was that Himureal drugged me with.
He fucking drugged me.
I trusted him.
In spite of everything, I believed better of him. I thought he could be better.
For a minute there, I was sure he was something more than the stories I was told as a child. I believed his lies about being the aggrieved party.
Part of me still believes them. But that part of me needs to be cleaved from me because look where it got me.
It's abundantly clear that the Himureal, who was looking to let the humans live in harmony with the Gods, is gone.
Zeph's words jolt me out of my mind as they echo around the empty space. "Himureal proposed a deal. That I work as his high priest, and he helps me get you here, in the city."
The snarl that rises in my chest feels feral, and I feel my magic try to spark in my veins but die pitifully. "You bartered me? Like a fucking object? "
Zeph has the good sense to flinch away from me and look ashamed. "It didn't feel that way at the time, you have to understand," he pleads. The sad part is that I can feel how honest he's being with me through whatever this draw is that we share. How desperate he was. "I felt empty, set adrift. It was like I had no control over who I was or what I did. Every piece of me screamed that I had to have you, had to be with you. I would've died to make that happen if I could have."
His words swirl through me, laying on top of a story Himureal told me just hours ago.
"The draw," I say quietly.
He looks at me, eyebrow raised, and shakes his head. "I didn't have the draw. I may have been his high priest, but he said I didn't need the draw to be it."
A dark chuckle slips from my mouth unbidden, and I shake my head. It evolves into a hysterical laugh, tears seeping from my eyes as I lose a piece of my grip on sanity at the sheer implausibility of the situation. Zeph stares at me, eyes wide with shock and a small amount of worry about my mental state. Once I get myself under control, I wipe my eyes and look him directly in his eyes, a part of me eager to see the recognition when it hits him. "Not to Himureal. To me. When I called you high priest, I was calling you my own, Zeph."
I watch the shadows cross his face as the words sink in, the weight of my words settling on him. "No, that's not right. I'm in love with you." He clutches his chest as if searching for a physical tether between the two of us, but of course, he finds none .
How can he not feel it? The moment he stepped into the same space as me it snapped into place, like it had always been there.
I don't know how I missed it when I was here in Ytopie before.
"I found the journal of Solarius' high priest, Linna. She was in love with her God. But it was called a perversion of the bond as if she couldn't separate the feeling of love from the feeling of devotion."
Still, he shakes his head, adamant that I am wrong. "That's not what this is, Viola!" He rises to his feet and begins to pace, pulling at his hair. "I read so many books on this, Viola, I would know if that's what this is. This is love. It has to be. It is all-consuming. All-encompassing. I would do anything for you, Viola."
I lean back on my palms, looking up at him as he frets. "Fine, you don't believe me?" His eyes lock on mine, and I shrug. "Zeph, I reject you. I reject your draw." I'm unsure what words I need to say to make it happen, but those do the trick. He doubles over, hand clutching his chest as if I have stabbed him, a pained cry leaving his mouth. I let him suffer, let the feeling really sink in, before I speak again. "Zeph, I accept your draw. Come back to me, high priest."
With my words, he straightens, the pain gone almost instantaneously.
"Shadowweaver…" he begins, his voice low and reverent.
"Don't. I'm not going to reject you outright, Zeph, but I don't want you as my high priest." I turn my back to him. "Now get the fuck out of here. I don't want to see you again."
The slag keeps my head fuzzy, and I fade in and out of awareness the longer I'm exposed to it. It brings back unfortunate memories of Colris. This time, the pressure is less focused on my body, but it's all around me. Instead of drowning, I'm treading water.
Which is almost worse.
Because treading water comes with the insidious feeling of hope.
It feels like I could break through this with one solid push, but nothing I am doing is working. I can't even call Shadow to me.
There is no telling how much time has passed since I have been here. Mace is bound to have woken up by now and realized I am gone because Zeph returned with another meal and tried to speak to me some hours ago.
Mace is going to be furious with me.
How am I going to explain this? Despite everything, I felt I knew better and took a risk without calculating the potential outcomes.
I'm a fucking fool.
I lay on the uncomfortable stone bench, staring at the ceiling coated in cobwebs and dust, willing my brain to devise a plan. Instead of its normal noise, it's a refrain of insults, a reminder of how stupid I am.
I'm broken.
I'm reckless.
I'm selfish.
I'm lost, adrift at sea, with no one to blame but myself.
Why didn't I see this coming?
I was so blinded by my desire to have a father figure that I let myself be manipulated by Himureal, and now I am trapped, with no clue what he could possibly have planned for me.
He wants me to be his partner. If that's the case, why lock me up?
Because he doesn't trust me.
I could get out of here if I got him to trust me. I could convince him that I'm ready to rule alongside him, and then once I get out, I can travel to my friends in a shadow vision. That's my only choice here.
But how can I convince him to trust me? It's clear he's hesitant, or he wouldn't have locked me in prison.
Steps sound down the hallway, and the man himself comes into my vision as if my thoughts summoned him to my side. "Daughter," Himureal says, dipping his head. "I'm so sorry. So sorry. I didn't want to do this to you."
I have to breathe through my nose to calm my anger. My nails dig into my palms with the pressure of keeping my cool. "You never gave me the chance, Frostweaver," I say quietly. "You drugged me before you even let me hear the whole story."
"I couldn't risk you leaving, Shadowweaver. You're too important to me, and I need you here, where you belong, by my side." He sits down on the dirty ground and rests his elbows on his knees. He's wearing a pair of billowy black trousers and is shirtless, his chest a map of scarred runes. He's beautiful in the way that storms are. It's clear he is capable of mass destruction, full of devastating consequences, but it's hard to look away because of the sheer awe that he inspires.
I so wish it wasn't this way. I wish he had come back and told me the story from the moment he raised himself from my blood, told me his truth, and we could've worked together.
"You didn't believe in me," I say simply, crossing my legs and looking at the floor. "You didn't believe that I would make the right choice."
"On the contrary," he says, shaking his head. His white hair, twin to my own, falls in his face. "I believed you would make the choice you thought was right. I just wasn't sure if it would be the choice I needed you to make."
"You can't do this, Himureal," I say, but my voice has no bite. Purposefully. I want him to think he's wearing me down already.
"Do you ever get tired of it, Viola?" His voice is low and somber, and he doesn't make eye contact with me. "All the fighting?"
"Of course I do," I answer honestly. "I didn't want to be this. I just wanted to win the Race and then live a quiet life."
"I need the magic you can provide, Viola, but I do not need you to be a God for these people."
I sit up straighter. "What do you mean?"
"You lend your magic, your people's devotion, to me when I need it. And in exchange, you get to live that quiet life. You only need to come out every few weeks just to show people you're still around." He crawls across the space towards me and kneels before me, long, pale fingers wrapped around the bars of my cell. I can't seem to take my eyes off the blue of his nail beds. "You could be happy, happy, Viola. Quiet, living on your own or with Mace, Zeph, or whoever you want to be with. I would never ask anything more of you."
It's what I've always wanted.
He's offering me the one thing I always worked towards, and all I have to do is stop.
Stop searching.
Stop fighting.
Stop worrying about others.
"I don't expect you to make the decision right now, Shadowweaver," he says, staring deep into my eyes. "A lot has changed and transpired. You are here. You are here. And I have waited for you for centuries. I can wait a little longer." He rises to his full height, dusting off his pants. "Take the night, Shadowweaver. I'll send my high priest down in the morning to talk through this with you."
He spins on his heel and walks away.
"He's not your high priest," I murmur towards his retreating back. I don't really want him to hear me. Something tells me that needs to be a secret for now.
Himureal's offer swirls in my head. Could I do it? Give up the battle to bring back the Gods, support Himureal as he needs with my magic, and live a quiet life? If we find Spring's seed, then all the magic would be available. It's not as if Winter is the only choice for our people anymore.
Could that work?
Could I really be done with all of this?