28. Chapter 28
Chapter 28
Mace
I think Viola is stalling.
Since I met her, she has been completely focused on achieving her goals, but this time, she seems distracted.
Well, maybe distracted is the wrong word.
It's like the fire is no longer there. I would think that Himureal locking her up would be the final push she needs to cement this plan of destruction, but I think she is still wavering on it.
"Hey, numen," I say, sliding down into the soft grass beside her and propping my back against the wall. We're sitting in one of the courtyards that is surrounded by a cluster of houses. She's barefoot, with her white hair loose around her shoulders. Her newly pointed ears poke out of her hair slightly, and her fingers, blackened with the magic of Decay, are ripping the petals off of a small white flower. The moon is high, its soft orange light diffusing the harsh angles of Viola's face. Everyone has long since gone to rest, making cots and beds from whatever material we were able to cultivate with magic or bring from the ship. "What's on your mind?"
"It's been quiet." When I first heard Viola speak in person, I was surprised that her voice was pitched lower than I expected, with this raspy, grating quality that sounded just as rough as her exterior. Now, that voice wraps around me like a warm blanket and brings me serenity.
I wrap my arm around her shoulders and tug her closer to me. "Is that a bad thing?"
"I feel like we've had a couple of uneventful days, is all." She looks up at the sky, eyes drifting closed as she exhales. "It just seems like we're about to stumble into something big unknowingly."
"You're about to summon three Gods, so yeah, I would say that's something big." I tip my head back, looking at the stars that dot the night sky.
Without looking at me, she places her hand atop the one I have on her shoulder. "Are we sure that this is the right thing to do?"
"What other choice do we have? Are you going to take out Himureal and be the sole God for all of Ytopie?"
"Fuck no," she says with a laugh. "That sounds like an awful plan."
I don't think it would actually be that awful, especially now that Viola has pieces of each God, but I keep that sentiment to myself, knowing she would not agree with me. "Right, so then we have to bring the other Gods back and reinstate things as they were, with you in Himureal's place."
She angles her body into mine, her white hair tangling between us, and her loose black blouse falls off one of her shoulders. "But they banished Himureal because he didn't want to force humans into devotional servitude."
"According to Himureal," I remind her.
"According to Himureal." Sighing, Viola slumps against me, pressing her body against mine. Her warmth is so incongruent with her icy hair and storm-cloud eyes, and I can feel her melt into me.
"The journals never gave the full story, just that Himureal was going to ruin things, essentially," I add. "Zeph read through them all. I think we're doing the right thing."
"Okay, then we'll do it. Tomorrow, we'll do the first ritual." Shadow, that creepy fucking snake, slithers over from wherever he is hiding and twists and climbs up Viola's body, wrapping around her neck. She doesn't even react to the moment.
Shoving to her feet, Viola brushes dust from her gray linen pants and holds her hand out to me. I take it, letting her haul me off the ground and exaggerate the motion to fall into her body, capturing her mouth in a kiss. She melts into me but eventually pulls away from me with a sigh.
"We should get some sleep. Tomorrow, we summon a God."
The only way to be successful is sacrifice. Giving up something most valuable proves your dedication to prosperity, and will be rewarded ten fold when it is time for harvest. Even through storms, your gift will be recompensed.
I read the passage over and over from my seat in the amphitheater. Viola stands down below in the middle with Zeph and a small table. "Are you two sure?" I call down.
There is no crowd gathered to watch. We all agreed that since we do not know how this is going to go, it's best if we keep the audience minimal. Plume sits beside me, wearing a breezy green dress and her hair restrained in a braid.
"You found a dress?" I ask her, shocked.
She blushes and nods, not making eye contact with me. "Jaz found it on the ship."
"Oh, they just happened to find it, did they?" Tulip says, flopping down on the bench next to Plume. Her wild hair is piled on top of her hair today, and she wears a light blue blouse and brown trousers. Morrow lowers himself down next to her, cradling his stump with his right hand. His broad chest strains the burnt orange tunic he wears. His braids have been artfully plaited together into one thick braid down his back.
I wonder who helped him with that.
Plume doesn't respond to Tulip, instead turning her attention to Viola and Zeph, who have ignored my question.
"Walk us through this, please," I try again.
Viola sighs heavily, but Zeph nods and faces us. "From what we can gather, the catalyst of this ritual is to sacrifice something of great value to you to get the 'reward.' We're assuming the reward is the God."
Nodding along, I read the passage once more, dragging my finger along the aged paper. "That makes sense. It's a strong interpretation."
"The second half is easier, I think," Zeph continues. "'Even through storms, your gift will be recompensed.' I think the spell for this ritual is a large storm."
"Are you comfortable with Water?" I ask Viola. "I know you haven't used it much."
"I think I'll be okay," she replies with a shrug. "I can feel it just like all the others."
"What about the 'when it is time for harvest' part?" Morrow asks, resting his elbow on his knee.
Zeph smiles broadly. "The best time of day to harvest is early morning."
"That's why we're here at the ass crack of dawn?" Tulip says through a yawn.
Viola snorts out a laugh but doesn't answer, instead staring down at the table in front of her. Zeph presses a hand on her shoulder, and she flinches away from him slightly. "Are you ready?" he asks her softly. Thanks to the design of the structure, his voice still carries.
She shakes her head, eyes still fixed on the table. "I really don't want to do this, Zeph."
"I know," he says, "but it's the only thing we have."
Before I have a chance to ask what they're talking about, Tulip roughly shouts, "What's your sacrifice?" without regard to the emotional turmoil Viola is clearly experiencing.
Viola holds up a smooth obsidian stone, the new morning light giving it a sheen.
The Mistflow talisman she just got back.
With sudden clarity, I understand her hesitation.
"Do we need to do anything?" Plume asks, wringing her hands together. She knows she is on standby in case Viola requires healing, and it's obvious the stress that is causing her. I don't know if she'll ever forget holding Viola's gaping wounds as the blood drained from her during Himureal's ritual. It was the first time I had seen Plume rattled while using her magic.
"Just believe in Viola, I think. Mace, if you want to join some Lightning in with her, I don't think it will hurt." Zeph gestures for me to join them, and I am glad to do so. After I climb out of the stands I place my hand on Viola's back, noticing her fingers tapping wildly on her thighs.
"You can do this, numen," I say to her.
"I know, I just… this is all I have left of him, you know?"
"I know."
"Fuck, who knew being an unwitting God would come with so many sacrifices?" She lets out a dry laugh, pulling the small bowl that rests on the table to her. "Here we go, I guess."
I see the metallic gray of Geomancy swirling around Viola, pulverizing the stone in front of her, the dust of it falling into the bowl. I focus my intentions on a storm and my magic joins hers. She winces, presumably at the noise, when my magic joins the fray.
As lightning begins to strike around us, Viola fills the bowl using Water magic and swirls the powdered talisman into the water. Then she pricks her finger with her shadow dagger and lets a few drops of blood fall into the water.
"What are you doing?" I hiss under my breath.
"I'm not sure. It just feels right," she replies. Her eyes glaze a bit, and a burst of blue Water and gold Lightning magic swirls around her, dragging the water and stone mixture from the bowl into the air. My intentions are still set, but it's hard to focus fully on them as I watch Viola.
Her white hair is down today, whipping about in an unseen wind. She wears what looks like her Race outfit—a black sleeveless top and knee-length leather shorts. Her whip is around her waist, and her thighs are strapped with blades. I love seeing her like this, strength personified, but her eyes are almost lifeless. She's unblinking, staring at the mixture of her talisman and water that swirls in front of her in a cyclone midair.
I can sense our friends getting restless, and Viola is swaying on her feet. She collapses, and I grab her under her arms as the cyclone drops to the ground with a huge splash. When the water clears, a man stands before us.
He's tall, towering significantly over me, with light olive skin and auburn hair that is so deep it's almost a rich brown. Veins of decay like Viola's cover his hands but also travel all the way up his arms, over his shoulders, and up his neck, stopping just below his ears. He's got the angular features of a fae, and there is an otherworldly beauty to him. He shakes his head as if clearing water from his ears and blinks warm brown eyes at us before raking his eyes down his slender, naked figure.
The God shakes his hands, and he is clothed in a pair of rich brown trousers. He leaves his chest bare.
We all stare at him, none of us wanting to be the first to speak, and he takes a step forward.
"Viola," he says softly.
Her name from his lips is like a fall breeze, crisp and pleasant, and it immediately puts me at ease.
Hearing her name jolts her from her trance. She struggles out of my arms and takes a step towards him. "Avidor. Harvest Lord. How do you know my name?"
A broad smile grows on his face, and warmth coats the area. Viola and I have both let our intentions drop, and the storm has passed, leaving a beautiful early morning sky looking down at us.
"I… I watched you," he says quietly. Avidor's voice is gentle, higher pitched than I would have expected, and rich with emotion. "I was stuck in between realms, and I had to watch everyone live their lives."
This is the God of my magic, and I immediately feel a kinship with him. I want to rush him, to pick his brain and learn more about this power that thrums within my veins. But I hold back, knowing that Viola needs to lead this.
She moves around the table towards him, stopping just an arm's length away. Craning her neck to get a good look at the Harvest Lord, she smiles as he looks down at her.
Seeing them together is nothing short of awe-inspiring .
The last time I saw Viola next to a God was when Himureal was first summoned and before she truly came into her magic. Both of them exude so much raw power that I can almost taste it in the air.
Viola is darkness and shadows, her very essence one of violence, and Avidor is cool and serene as he stands above her. His skin seems to shimmer with deep, rich tones of gold, and as his hair ripples in the wind, it is reminiscent of falling leaves.
"I have followed you, Viola," he says softly, reaching out to brush her white hair behind her ear. His fingers linger down her cheekbones. She doesn't wince away from him, but she doesn't lean into the touch either.
"When you grabbed the Witch's Ladder, I knew you would eventually come for me." His eyes drag up and down her figure, and I cannot figure out what he's looking for in her. She allows his perusal, meeting his warm gaze with her steely one. He sighs, shaking his head softly and rubbing the back of his neck. "You are more magnificent than I imagined."
"I don't quite know what to say to that," she replies, quirking her head to the side.
"It's nothing, nothing. I am just in awe of the way you have handled everything that has been thrown your way. You've had such a tough go of it, and look at how beautifully it is all coming together." He takes her hands within his, tracing his long fingers over her lines of decay. The black of his fingers blends in with hers, twin corruption within their veins. "It suits you, you know? My magic. "
The interaction causes an uncomfortable feeling to rise in my gut, and I am grateful when she pulls her hands slowly from his and takes a step back. "Let me introduce you to Mace -"
"Nightroot, yes," Avidor says, nodding towards me. He doesn't look at me, though. No, his eyes stay fixed on Viola in a way that is beginning to seem predatory. "The Autumn Seasonale. I was expecting him to be here. I have followed your entire journey, Viola. Introductions need not be made."
The entire journey? My face heats at the idea of this God watching us in our most intimate moments. He catches my eye and shoots me a lascivious grin that falls in a serene smile the moment Viola's attention is back on him.
"And your high priest," he continues, turning towards Zeph. "You have done well by her," he compliments.
Zeph nods but doesn't reply. While there has been an obvious increase in magic since Avidor arrived, there is also a strange disturbance in the air. It has taken on the distinct scent of ozone that it does before a storm.
Something about the Harvest Lord is activating protective instincts in me, and it looks like Zeph is feeling that reservation as well, if I'm reading his expression right.
"Why don't I show you to your accommodations?" I say, stepping forward. "Viola will be returning the other two Gods over the next few days, so we have prepared a place for you to rest and adjust to being back."
"Viola can show me, thank you," he says, turning his back to me and facing fully towards her. "We have so much to discuss, after all. "
"She should rest," Zeph interjects. "Her magic is quite low after the ritual."
I mouth a silent thank you to my brother. Avidor does not seem to care. "She'll be fine. She is the Shadowweaver, after all!"
Viola gives me a tight nod, and she turns towards the amphitheater stairs, gesturing for Avidor to follow her. We watch her take the odd God out and lead him towards the village.
Tulip joins me in the pit of the theatre, hands on her hips. "That was anticlimactic, wasn't it? She didn't even pass out or bleed or anything."
I raise a confused brow at her. "She nearly fell over after generating a massive storm that somehow didn't touch us, and that was anticlimactic? Did you want her to pass out?"
Tulip shrugs in an exaggerated manner. "I expected something more than this."
"Doesn't he seem a little… strange?" Plume asks, interrupting Tulip's attempt at humor. She and Morrow head down the stairs and join the rest of us in the center of the theatre.
Zeph steps forward, rustling his hair with his hands. "He does, but Himureal is quite odd as well from the isolation."
"And Himureal is a murdering monster," Tulip snarks. "Do we really want her to be alone with him?"
"Do we have a choice?" My brother gathers up the supplies from the ritual, clicking his tongue softly. "If this is going to work, she's going to need to rule alongside Avidor. We have to give them the chance to get to know one another. "
"I don't like the way his eyes lingered on Viola." My nose wrinkles.
"Jealous of a God?" Morrow says, bumping me in the shoulder.
The gentle ribbing causes the rest of the group to laugh, breaking the tension, but I cannot help my train of thought as it veers back to Viola and Avidor. Our magic is all about intentions. Any time I want to cast a spell, I have to firmly fix my intentions and let my magic know what my goal is.
What is Avidor's intention with Viola?