37. Chapter 37
Chapter 37
Viola
I 've put it off long enough. Rainworth is running smoothly, and Avidor and Solarius are here and settled in. Cirrha and Taegan have debriefed all of us on the state of Ytopie, and it is imperative we move quickly to reduce casualties from Himureal's rampage.
Zeph didn't predict him to go so far off the rails when we left, so when Cirrha and Taegan shared their experiences, I could no longer pretend that waiting a week between summonings was reasonable. Now we are underwater, trying to break the surface to minimize the loss of life in Ytopie.
After his defeat during our morning spar, Avidor has been cold towards me, but he still joined in when I requested a meeting. He sits in his baggy brown slacks and bare feet on a bench in the amphitheater next to Solarius. He rests his chin on his fist, eyes unfocused, a look of perpetual boredom fixed upon his inhumanly beautiful face.
The Radiant Sunfire lives up to his name, his dark skin shining in the late afternoon sun and his golden hair making a crown around his head. The God seems to make up any excuse not to be alone with me. He's spent his time speaking to the humans here in the city, trying to see if anyone has the draw towards him and trying to increase his devotion. His primary goal seems to be to grow his follower base as quickly as he can to gain back his full complement of magic.
I want to talk to him, to pick his brain, to learn about him, but he remains aloof. He has a goal, and I do not fit into it. I cannot tell if it is personal or just the nature of my role, but it is so strange to me that Avidor and Himureal feel such powerful draws to me, and Solarius seems keen to just forget I exist.
Mace, Zeph, and Plume are with me in the middle of the natural structure, poring over the journal of Tieron, the high priest of Spring. Morrow and Tulip sit a few rows away from the Gods with Taegan and Cirrha, and Jaz sits by themself. Or rather, they lay by themself, stretched out on the bench and staring up at the sky. They fought me when I asked for them to join me, citing the fact that they were 'just a human ship captain,' but I wanted their perspective.
"We need to bring the Bloomtide back quickly," I say, moving my eyes between everyone. "Himureal is escalating, and I have been lax at my duties. I wrongly assumed he would not execute citizens of Ytopie in favor of having them follow him. That, and those lives lost, is on me."
"It's not on you," Zeph replies, looking up from the journal to glare at me. "Himureal escalated in a way I didn't anticipate."
"It is on me. I should have sped up the rituals." I don't want to admit I was nervous. I had grown fairly comfortable in our bubble here in Rainworth, and I didn't want to think about what was going on outside of it.
It's selfish. I 'm selfish. But it's time for me to get over it and move on.
"Putting blame aside, it's obvious that we've run out of time. How long did it take you two to feel settled?" I ask the Gods.
"A night or so," Avidor says with a shrug.
Solarius nods. "After a night's rest, I felt like myself, minus the full complement of my powers."
"So if I summon her today, we should be able to head to Ytopie tomorrow?" I ask, looking between everyone. I'm greeted with a bunch of blank stares.
"How would we know?" Jaz asks, tossing an apple in the air and catching it. "We're all running around blind here, Viola."
"Watch your tone, human," Solarius spits, rising to his feet. "She is your God."
Jaz swings their legs down and rises to a sitting position. "I bandaged her knees when she was four years old. She is my God, but she is also my kid sister. I'll speak to her how I please."
I didn't know Jaz felt that way about me. Max was my only friend outside of Link, but maybe I was blind to those on the edge. Jaz was there, getting me out of trouble, sneaking me textbooks.
Is that what an older sibling does? I'll have to ask Mace.
"They're right, Solarius," I say, glaring at him. "I am not above anyone. This is my inner circle. I value all of their opinions equally." I don't catch the words he mumbles under his breath, and I choose not to pursue them. His tone tells me enough about what they could have been.
"Jaz raises a valid point," Morrow says with a sigh. "We don't know what we're going to do. You cannot move all of us in a shadow vision because if what Taegan and Cirrha say is true, it'll wear you out fairly quickly."
"If there is enough devotion, I should be able to keep her replenished," Zeph says, looking up from the journal. "But you're right in that it is not ideal. That devotion would be better spent elsewhere."
"We're going to have to command some beasts. That's the best plan I can think of," Plume says. "Now that Viola has Spring magic, mine feels stronger than ever. I think I could do it."
"Why is that?" Jaz asks, looking at me curiously. "How can you having magic increase hers?"
Zeph looks up from the journal as if to speak, but I interrupt. "Best as I can tell is that now that I possess that magic, some of the devotion towards me has been used to boost it. The original fae were created through the devotion that Gods left behind when they were banished."
"Does that mean you're acting as a conduit for us?" Cirrha asks, crossing one leg over the other. She wears short white shorts, which contrast with her smooth dark skin, making her legs appear impossibly long. "Like Zeph acts for you?"
"I'm not sure," I answer honestly. "I think it's just that the devotion can now be attuned to that magic, so to speak, which means some of it is available for the fae." I don't mention that if that devotion is depleted, there is no magic left for the fae.
No one likes to be told they're living off scraps.
"So between you, Plume, and the Bloomtide, do you think that is enough Spring magic to command beasts to get us all to Ytopie?" Taegan's voice fills the amphitheater, drawing my attention immediately. Since arriving here, the bags under his eyes have lessened, and his skin has lost most of its waxy pallor.
"Theoretically," Plume replies.
"And that brings us back to the ritual," I say. "Zeph, can you read it out loud and tell us what you've figured out?"
Holding up the journal, Zeph recites the riddle Tieron hid in his journal. " 'A recipe for rebirth: A true sacrifice. A true yearning. A true intent. Combine with fervent devotion.' " I wrinkle my nose at the words, which mean nearly nothing to me. Zeph folds the journal gently and places it before him. "Here's where my brain has been at with this. A recipe means you have to combine it all to get what you want, so I think all of this has to be done simultaneously."
"It makes sense to me, but I've never been much of a cook," Tulip says, her voice light with humor. Today, she wears ecru pants and a light green top, her hair in twin plaits. For once, she looks her age, and it brings a smile to my face. Being in Rainworth has been good for her.
"But what are the 'ingredients'?" Jaz says, ruffling their bright red hair.
"That's where I'm not so sure I'm on the right track," Zeph admits, glancing at Plume and Mace. "Tieron goes on a bit in the journal about what a true sacrifice is and how it's not just a secret or confession. He believed a sacrifice was giving up a part of yourself."
"So I need to sacrifice a part of myself?" I ask, wary. "What do I have to sacrifice? I gotta be honest here, I'm not keen on losing a limb."
"I wouldn't recommend it," Morrow quips. Tulip sputters out a laugh, and the tension breaks momentarily.
"Is there a part of you that is so sacred to you that you've never shared it with anyone?" Mace asks softly, pulling my attention back to the task at hand.
My eyes meet his, the green of them dull and glassy with contained emotion, and as if I can read his mind, I can see what he's suggesting, what he's implying.
I can feel what he is about to suggest in my bones, and I take a large step back, away from him.
"Viola, wait," he says, approaching me like I am a wounded animal.
"No, I've told you about that," I hiss under my breath. "You know about it. There would be no sacrifice."
"I know about it. I don't know what actually happened. How you felt. The act of it," he says quietly.
"How is that a true sacrifice?" I hiss.
Zeph, clearly knowing what Mace is suggesting, speaks softly. "Tieron went on and on about sacrifice. About how the main reason they," he flits his hand twords the two Gods in attendance, "wanted to banish Himureal was because he felt like requiring sacrifice wasn't necessary. But the others held firm in their beliefs that devotion is stronger with a sacrifice."
"You want me to tell you all the gory details? Share them with everyone?" The sadness on his face makes me worry that's not what he's suggesting at all.
"Will someone share what these two are talking about?" Avidor, who was mostly silent up until this point, glares at Mace. "Or should we leave so the lovers can have a conversation on their own?"
Mace opens his mouth, and it's like I can see the venom about to roll off his tongue, so I speak up, stopping the pissing contest sure to happen. "I was assaulted … raped … my first year in the Race. Mace is suggesting that my sacrifice be to relive it. Isn't that right, my love?" I can't help the anger that bleeds into my last two words, and Mace flinches away from me.
He holds out a hand, readying himself to speak, but Tulip is on her feet quickly, shouting. "Absolutely not, we're not setting you up to relieve the time you were raped!" She's rushing down the steps of the amphitheater, shoving Mace in the shoulders. "How fucking dare you? How dare you?" Her voice is pitched up several octaves, reverberating around us. Every syllable is defined and covered in sharp barbs as she challenges the much larger man. "You claim you love her, and this is your suggestion?"
"Wait!" Plume says, stepping between Mace and Tulip. "That is not what he's suggesting. The next part says a true Yearning. Do you know about Yearning magic?" Tulip shakes her head, barely stepping back away from Mace. Her whole body seems to vibrate with anger; her hands are clenched into fists by her side, and they are so tight that her knuckles are white. Plume nods, placing her hand gently on Tulip's shoulder. "It's a magic within Spring that is exceedingly rare. It can induce love or sexual desire."
"That's…" Tulip struggles to speak.
"Really fucking dangerous," Morrow says from his seat, "and the implications of it are scary."
"But we also think it means that the sacrifice needs to be paired with true love and desire," Plume continues, looking at me. "Not malicious intent."
I try to steady my breathing, my body tense from the conversation going on around me. I feel like I am outside myself, viewing the situation as it unfolds from above. Am I being asked to relive my worst moment? The moment every lingering bit of power I had was stripped from me, the moment that nearly broke me after my parents betrayed me?
"A true intent and fervent devotion," Zeph says, walking to me and taking my hands in his. I flinch at the contact but do not pull my hands away. "The high priest of Spring believed there was no sacrifice without losing a part of yourself. You will have to make a sacrifice with true love and desire, pure intent, and fervent devotion. If what we think this means is true," he gulps, closing his eyes as if fighting to get the words out.
"How is this a sacrifice?" My voice sounds small. It's embarrassing. I'm supposed to be this strong God, and here I am, quivering from a memory.
"After that day, how did you feel?" Zeph's voice is gentle and measured. His green eyes are soft, and he has a sad smile on his face.
"Like a part of me died."
It feels like I'm melting, the realization dripping down my lips, weighing them down, and threatening to throw me into the dirt.
Devotion is stronger with a sacrifice.
What greater sacrifice is there than death?
Physical death or emotional, I'm not sure it matters. Because the Viola Mistflow who entered the summit for her first Race, was not the one who left that year.
Mace steps in, placing his hand on his brother's shoulder. "If you and I recreate that moment, and you sacrifice that secret, that control, that moment, with me, someone who loves and desires you entirely, someone who has nothing but the most honest and true of intents to help you and to bring back the Bloomtide," he breaths deeply, moving from behind Zeph to cup my face, "someone who is more devoted to you than anyone else in this world, it should work."
"But how?" I ask quietly. "If I believe that doing that satisfies the riddle, where is the magic? Where is the summoning?"
"I don't think the Bloomtide intended someone to use magic to bring her back," Zeph says, taking a step back to allow me to fall fully into Mace's strong arms. He tightens them around me, and though it may make me appear weak in front of those gathered, I slump into his hold, needing the comfort he can offer me more than my pride in this moment.
Zeph positions himself next to Plume and crosses his arms behind his back before continuing. "I believe the Bloomtide's intention was for someone to produce so much devotion and natural Yearning magic that it draws her back."
I bury my face in Mace's chest, and his hands trace up my spine. I count the taps he does on my vertebrae, using the familiar repetition to ground me as best as I can. "I don't want to do this," I say, only for him to hear. "And I certainly don't want everyone watching it."
"No one needs to watch it," he says just as quietly. "Zeph needs to be in the general vicinity because we think it may drain your magical reserves as a way of pulling Amaryn here, but other than that, it can be just us."
I push away from his chest and look at Avidor and Solarius, both leaning forward with a keen interest in our conversation. Morrow and Jaz sit stiffly near them, both clearly uncomfortable and worried about the conversation's turn. Tulip paces near me, Plume quietly whispering assurances and answering questions spat at her with grace.
"And you all are sure," I say, pushing more strength than I feel into my voice, "that this will work?"
"No," Zeph answers honestly, closing the journal and sliding it into his pocket. "But we weren't sure about the other rituals either. It's a guessing game. But this is our best guess at this juncture, and so far, our track record is good."
Every bit of my body recoils at the idea of reliving that awful memory, of putting myself in that vulnerable position. But I look up at Mace, the love and affection in his eyes, and even though my chest tightens with fear and trepidation, I know this man would never hurt me.
He would never leave me there.
He would never abandon me.
So I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and then nod, preparing to sacrifice the part of myself I never wanted anyone to know for my people.