43. Chapter 43
Chapter 43
Viola
Z eph goes still in my arms, his heart stops beating, and I feel the draw unravel as I stare at his motionless body.
Amaryn's shrill laughter echoes in my ears.
"What a weak high priest," she shouts joyfully. "Can't even support his God. Look at what you've done, Viola. You've killed him. You've destroyed the Gods. You have ruined Krillium. It will never recover from you."
I look up from my high priest's still and silent body and see Morrow crouched before me, and I feel Tulip's arms wrap around my shoulders. I gently place Zeph in Morrow's arms and place a soft kiss on Mace's lips, willing him to wake up soon.
I know he will. There is no healing left for me to do. All he needs is a little rest.
Rising shakily to my feet, I look down at my clothing, soaked in the blood of my lover, and then lock eyes with the former God of Spring. My familiar, Shadow, wraps his giant body around her tightly, restraining her mortal vessel.
Slowly, I cross the broken and battered ground to her and stare directly into her eyes. When she spits on me, I do not flinch, and I do not wipe it off.
I am numb .
People will grieve their parents.
Their friends.
Their lovers.
Their family.
Their children.
But I am the only person in this entire realm who will grieve their high priest.
Viola Mistflow is gone, for I am the vicious blade of justice. I am the righteous arm of retribution.
I grip Amaryn's face tightly, squeezing her mouth open as she stares at me wide-eyed. She tries to talk, but I don't hear it, and if I did, I wouldn't understand it. With my free hand, I grab her tongue and pull it out of her mouth, stretching it so far and so tightly she has no choice but to stretch her neck to follow it. I drop her face, swiftly grab my blade from my thigh, and slice her tongue off.
Blood pours from her mouth, and the smell of it makes me want to gag.
I have no desire to see what lies within her blood.
I already know her truth.
Dropping the tongue on the ground, I drag the tip of my blade down her cheek, barely breaking the skin. "I think you and I are going to have a lot of fun discussing my high priest." Leaning close to her ear where none of my companions can hear me, I whisper, "You fucked with my family, Amaryn. I may have killed your brothers, but that is only the beginning of the suffering I will bring you."
I rub the back of my hand on Shadow's large cheek and walk away, leaving Amaryn sobbing with a mouth full of blood. Mace is stirring, Tulip helping him to a sitting position, and I can feel my heart break the moment his eyes land on the place Morrow laid Zeph.
There are no words to describe the sound that leaves him, the pure agony he is in as he crawls through the dirt that has been clumped with gore. He shakes Zeph's shoulders, begging and pleading for him to open his eyes, but we all know it's pointless.
The specter of death hangs over us all, grateful for the offering we have unwillingly provided.
I sink to my knees, feeling as if I am outside of my body. A part of me has been ripped out haphazardly, leaving me with a gaping wound that will never be staunched.
"Mace," I say softly, placing a hand on his thigh.
"What happened?" he chokes out, his voice hoarse and brutalized.
"You were… dying, Mace." I have to take a moment to close my eyes push down the fear and, grief, and despair I felt in those moments as I struggled to heal Mace because this is not about me. This moment is not about the Nightroot who almost died but the one who did. "You were nearly cut in half," I continue, never taking my eyes off the pale face of my high priest. The pallor of death makes the tattoo on his neck stand out vividly, and I focus on those blood-red drops meant to signify my magic.
My magic .
"I can bring him back!" I say, jumping to my feet. "I can bring him back. I have Spring magic. I can bring him back!"
"Only for a moment," Morrow says softly, placing his hand on my arm. "It's only for minutes."
"For a Seasonale. I'm a God, Morrow. Who's to say I cannot keep him here longer?"
Mace grabs my hand, pulling me back to the dirt and wrapping his arms around me as he sobs into my chest. "Please, Viola," he says thickly. "What happened? Can you bring me my brother back?"
I place both of my shaking hands on Zeph's chest, the stillness so eerie and foreign that I want to yank them away and cringe at how unnatural it feels. But I push deep inside me, searching for that unfamiliar, unused magic of Necromancy that I know lies within. With my eyes closed, I can almost see it, like a sticky purple spiderweb wrapping around my high priest's still body.
Opening my eyes, I look directly into the bright green eyes of Zeph Nightroot.
His chest isn't moving, but his face cracks into a sad smile. "Shadowweaver," he says softly. "I had hoped you wouldn't do this."
"What do you mean?" Mace says, anger creeping into the sorrow that has taken over his voice.
"Your magic cannot sustain me for long, Viola."
"I am going to bring you back!" I say, even though as soon as the words leave my mouth, I know they are false.
There is no returning him to this plane .
He sits up, reaching out and clasping our hands. "I'm gone, but I will find my peace. Please, do not worry over me."
"This is my fault," I say quietly. Mace whips his head to me, about to yell and ask questions when Zeph interrupts.
"It is not. I made the decision to sacrifice myself in devotion to you. You needed the magic to save Mace."
Mace drops Zeph's hand as if he's burnt, covering his mouth. "You killed yourself for me?"
"You would have died, brother."
"You did die!" Mace shouts, pulling at his hair. "You died! You killed yourself. And for what?"
"For you. I have not always been the best brother, Mace, but I fucking love you." Zeph grabs his brother by the hand and pulls him in for a hug, and for a moment, I could almost forget that he's dead. But I feel the drain on my magic, the weight on my limbs as my body starts to struggle to maintain the illusion of life I have created. "I could not watch you die, brother. I have done all I was supposed to do in this world. But you, you have so much left. There is so much you have yet to do. You and Viola. This realm needs you both."
"I needed you," I say softly, looking into the eyes of my high priest. "I need you."
His face is sad as he gathers both of my hands in his, shaking his head. "High priest is a title that will be passed on. It's not time for it yet, but soon it will be."
"What does that mean?" Must he speak in riddles? Can he not, this last time, tell me directly what he means ?
"It means what I said. You'll need to finish this battle without a high priest, but I am sure you will not be without forever." He sighs, a strange act from someone who does not breathe. "Viola, the trust you placed in me as your high priest was the greatest gift you could ever have given me."
"It got you killed." My voice is soft and Mace gathers me into his arms, both of us staring at the final dredges of his brother's spirit. "You would've been okay without me."
"You know that's not true. From the moment you were born, I was your high priest. It was determined, and it came to be." I watch him as he speaks, memorizing his features. There is so much Zeph and I had left to do together.
How can he look so serene when I feel like the ground beneath my feet is crumbling?
Mace touches Zeph's face, shivering at how cold his skin has already grown. "I am going to miss you, brother."
"And I you, Mace." Zeph looks at me knowingly as if he is still my high priest and knows how much magic is being drained from me. He grabs Mace's hand again and pulls both of us into his arms.
Mace's sob racks his chest as he buries himself into the crook of Zeph's neck. "I love you, Zeph," he cries, pulling back to rest his forehead on his brothers. "Go easy. Go well."
"I love you, brother," Zeph replies. And then he looks at me, resting his forehead on mine. "Shadowweaver."
My voice catches in my throat. "High priest."
"Do not bring me back again." I rear back as if slapped, shocked at the harsh tone of his voice. "Let me rest, Viola. Mourn me, but move on and grow within your life. Get rid of Himureal and have the life you always dreamed of."
"I…" The words get stuck in my throat. It's hard for me to admit my feelings so openly in such a raw moment, but I cannot let Zeph go without saying what I need to. "I don't want to let you go."
A sad smile flits across his face briefly. "I know you don't."
"Is there no way I can bring you back? No chance that you can come back for good? What is the use of this magic if I cannot use it to save you?"
"Viola, even if you could bring me back, I would not be the same. Let me rest, Shadowweaver." He cups my face, those green eyes I know so well sad but dry.
A corpse can't cry, after all.
"Promise me," he says, pulling me closer. "I cannot go on without knowing you will continue on without me, and I know your magic cannot sustain this much longer." He's right. My vision is blackening at the edges, and my chest aches, though that may be the grief that I am attempting to subvert. "Promise me, Viola!" he all but shouts, shaking me.
"Fine, Zeph! Fine." The tears fall, tears that I fought so hard to keep contained, and I gasp at how raw my cheeks feel from the salt that has tracked down them today. "I will let you go, high priest."
Zeph embraces Mace once more, whispering in his ear, and then clasps my hands in his own. My chest aches, and my limbs feel heavy. Despite my head spinning, I still hear Zeph say, "Thank you, Shadowweaver. Be well."
As his body stills under my hands, my chest cracks, and I gasp out, "Goodbye, high priest."