34. Chapter 34
Chapter 34
Mace
W hen I wake and notice Viola is not with us, I am no longer surprised. I barely see her sleep, and the moment she thinks we're all dead to the world, she slips out to do Gods knows what. When we arrived in Colris, just as the sun was rising, we all agreed to get a little sleep before we went into the city. Of course, Viola has decided that she doesn't need sleep and chose to leave again today.
Today I followed her. I had to know what she was doing.
Turns out, not much of anything. She was sitting in the middle of a swarm of shadows. I couldn't see or hear anything that went on there, but she must have needed some time entirely alone to surround herself in darkness like that.
I don't begrudge her of that. I could use it myself. An undercurrent of indignation still flows through me at how things went down in Pran, and processing it entirely alone would be nice.
I am not now, nor have I ever been, under the impression that Viola Mistflow is a perfectly moral person. She makes choices that she deems necessary without seeking outside judgment, regardless of how chaotic those choices are. And I've always admired this about her .
Growing up, my father would mention how the fae didn't get to where they are right now without stepping on throats. The fae's cutthroat behavior is why we're the ones in Ytopie, not the humans.
Well, that and magic.
Maybe that's why she was such a favorite of the city while she Raced. They saw themselves in her.
Crime isn't common within Ytopie, but it isn't nonexistent. Eventually, someone will take things too far, whether that is theft or physical violence. Until we put sanctions on Esha's, their Yearning magic caused a lot of problems. That is why hidden under the Palace is a prison made to contain all types of magic. Originally, it was just a few cells, and we had to restrain or drug our prisoners to keep them from escaping, but I worked with the other Autumn-type magic users, and we came up with a solution.
Geomancers are skilled at quickly extracting iron ore and turning it into steel for weapons and armor, even if we don't require it much. During that process, we collect the slag, a hot liquid of impurities, and quickly coat the cell with it. For some reason, that slag dampens magical abilities significantly. It doesn't fully remove them but does weaken them enough to make escape nearly impossible. Combined with light restraints and guards we have never had someone escape our prison.
Which is to say, I am not a stranger to immoral behaviors, having committed them or seen them happen throughout my life. But when Viola Mistflow almost killed that man, who was just trying to do what he thought was best for his daughter, I questioned everything I knew about her.
She could have removed the amulet with her shadows, or damn, even utilized Shadow to retrieve it. She hurt him for the sake of it.
And when I called her out, she had the gall to throw in my face that at least that little girl still has a father. Forgetting that every choice I made got her to where she is today. Whether she likes it or not, she's the one who told me she's done talking through that. That's a choice she made, and here I am, trying to push through that guilt to help her, and she decides now's the time to spit it at me again?
"You're very tense. You may crack a tooth if you don't loosen your jaw," Plume says from behind me. I hadn't heard her wake or leave the cave over the rambling sounds of my thoughts.
"Just running through a lot of things in my mind." I don't mean for my tone to be so clipped, but if anyone will overlook it, it's Plume.
"There seem to be quite a lot of you angry at Viola right now."
"What did she do to Morrow?"
She tries and fails to bite back a laugh. "Well, besides punching him? It appears Summer magic comes with a bit of a temper, and since she's got her magic directly from Solarius, she's got it a bit worse right now."
"Well, that seems like a great combination. She's got the brutal nature of Winter and the hotheaded tendencies of Summer. What could go wrong when those two come together?" I turn to face Plume. "Oh shit. She's got both battle magics in her and neither of the more balanced ones."
The look on her face matches mine. "I think it's safe to assume she's going to end up absorbing all the magic at this point. Which means we need to get Avidor's artifact sooner rather than later."
A loud yawn reaches my ears, and then, "What's the urgency?" is asked right before Tulip leaves the cave.
Morrow is quickly behind her, glancing back briefly. "She's still asleep, but there's no telling for how long. If we're talking about what I think you're talking about, we need to make it quick." I must've missed Viola slipping back into the cave while I was lost in my thoughts.
I nod and gesture for them to crowd me. Dropping my voice, I voice my fears, "At this rate, all signs point to her having to absorb the magic of all the Gods before we bring them back. Which shouldn't be too terrible in the long run but could destroy everything we're working towards right now."
"Why? Why would it destroy everything?" Tulip asks, still rubbing her eyes.
"Because Solarius was known for his insane temper, according to Linna's journal," Morrow says, holding it up. "I've been reading all the entries, and he was impulsive and dangerous. He would completely roast anyone who angered him. There was no forgiveness with the Radiant Sunfire."
"And I had Lucinda, the Winter high priest's, journal in my office back in Ytopie. Himureal was calculated in his choices, but they were brutal once he made them. He wasn't fair in his punishments. He'd recreate people's crimes when he found them guilty. He was cruel, with no thought spared for mercy." I say, imploring Plume and Tulip to understand what I'm trying to communicate.
"You're saying she's taken on these God's traits?" Tulip whispers.
Morrow nods sadly. "She absorbed chunks of their magic. These Gods were born of magic. It makes sense that some of the pieces that made the Gods who they were would transfer over."
"Which means Viola currently has the brutality of Himureal with the impulsivity of Solarius." Plume crosses her hands in front of her, head cast down in sadness. "We should've thought this through more. This is going to change her too drastically."
"How could we have known?" I ask, opening the question up to anyone. "We didn't know about Solarius until after we found the journal, which we didn't have time to dig through until after we found the artifact. It's not like we knew she'd absorb the magic of another God after taking on Winter. And by the time Viola got to Ytopie and could've learned from Lucinda's journal, she was already in possession of the magic, so there was no mitigating that damage either."
"So what is our plan here, Mace?" Tulip asks, hand on her hip. "I may still be pretty pissed at her, but she deserves better than to descend into what is sure to be madness with these two dangerous magics swirling in her."
"We find the journal before the artifact and read through it thoroughly. We need to know if there is anything we need to prepare for before she absorbs Avidor's magic."
They agree with me, and it's a good thing because not three minutes later, Viola comes out of the cave. She's missing her chest wrap today, a fact I only know because her shirt has been ripped low in the front showcasing the Sunfire symbol that now lives between her breasts. Her dark hair is wild and loose, and her leather fighting shorts and thigh holsters are slung low on her hips.
The combination of anger, desire, and the small amount of fear I feel towards her roll in my gut. I want to kiss her, pull her flush with my body, and devour her. I don't care how angry I am at her; her body was made to fit in mine, and it has been too long. I fight to take a deep inhale and calm my body.
"Hey, Lola," Tulip says, awkwardly hiding the fact that we were all just watching her. "We were just thinking it's probably time to head into town and find the journal."
Viola nods, still not speaking, and rubs the Sunfire. She looks at Morrow and jerks her head to the side in an unspoken command. He moves in the direction she indicated without question.
They're not so far from the rest of us that we can't see what they're doing, but their voices are so hushed we can't make out the conversation. Instead, we watch orange magic flow from Morrow's figure to form a barely visible shield around him.
As soon as it is in place, she starts attacking him with all sorts of magic. Fireballs, giant shards of ice, and whip-like shadows all attack the shield that does not waver. At one point I see what looks like a flaming shadow wrap the shield and tighten around it.
Morrow remains untouched, despite small cracks that have started to form in the shield.
The magic stops, the pieces of it unused floating off through the air to nourish the world as best as they can. Morrow drops his shield, and they walk back to us. He's visibly exhausted and sweating from the exertion of holding a shield against the strength of Viola's magic.
"My magic is back to full strength," he says quietly.
"Which means Himureal will soon know what happened as those of Summer magic start to realize it," Viola says quietly.
Viola is changed. She's still fierce and the type of person people will follow as their God, but she is also rigid and aloof.
I've tried to talk to her about Pran, and she just looks at me with this smolder in her eye that shuts me up entirely. Instead, I prattle on beside her, asking questions about her childhood and providing stories about mine. During our walk into town, I find out that Viola prefers wine over mead, that, as a child, she broke her left arm in two places, and that when she talks about her mother, her nostrils flare, but when she talks about her father the side of her lips turns down .
Tulip, Plume, and Morrow chime in with their own answers to my questions, and for a while, it could almost be forgotten that we are undertaking a great responsibility for our lands.
We reach the city center just as the sun is beginning to set, and it is bustling with activity. The clang of blacksmith's hammers and the shouting from the mines that surround the city fill my ears. People dart across red clay roads, and towering buildings surround us on all sides. Street vendors call out, and Morrow trades a pouch of berries for some freshly baked bread for all of us to split.
Colris was the home of the high priest of Avidor, and I must admit I feel a kinship to this area. The mountains surrounding it, the mining caves just outside the homes, and the sharp smell of dirt and steel all settle the restless activity in my blood.
"This isn't like Pran, we don't know who to go to speak to to get an audience. Where do we even start?" Plume asks the group.
"I've been here once before," Tulip says, "but I don't think I met anyone of rank."
"I think I have family here," Viola says, her voice low and harsh as if she hasn't spoken in ages.
We all stop to stare her down. "What do you mean? You said you had no family?" Morrow asks.
"I don't think I have any family, not in the true sense. My mother was from Colris, and in her Ascension year, she never came back. She relocated to Dalery and met my father. So I may still have family here that we can seek out, but it's not like they'd know me." She rubs absentmindedly at the Sunfire on her chest.
"It's a good idea," I concede. "Do you know what her name was prior to marriage?"
I watch her reach back and braid her hair, lips moving as she mutters words to herself under her breath. She wraps the end of it tightly in a strip of leather she pulled from a pocket. "Foxgrove, I think. I was grateful that the family name was chosen to be Mistflow, not the least of which that an M looks better on my talisman than…" her eyes widen, and true sadness washes over her face. "My talisman. The stone my father started making the moment my mother became with child. It was left in the garrison. I don't know how I didn't realize it until now. I," she inhales sharply, "I loved that fucking thing."
In an anxious flurry, her fingers tap against one another.
There she is. Viola Mistflow is still in there, underneath an overwhelming amount of magic. We can get her back to us. "We'll get it back, I promise you. This isn't the last we've seen of Ytopie." I don't make that promise lightly. I know we can get there, stop Himureal, and hunt down that talisman.
She clears her throat as if she's embarrassed. "Right then. Foxgrove. We need to ask around and see if there is anyone here of that family line."
We spend nearly an hour stopping every person we meet and asking them about the Foxgrove name, and none of them are willing to point us in the right direction, skepticism lining their faces. That is until we meet a young man with dark hair, tawny skin, and honey-brown eyes. He's tall and not much older than Tulip, but he carries himself with the confidence of a much older man.
"Foxgrove? Aye, that's my name. Mam is gone, but Pa is around if you want to meet him?" He narrows his eyes at Viola, sizing her up. She crosses her arms and lowers her brow as she meets his appraisal. Looking at them next to one another, I can see a minor resemblance. He seems to agree because he nods sharply. "You kin?"
Viola nods and speaks slowly, and I can hear the effort in her voice to keep it calm. "My mother grew up here in Colris. Her name was Foxgrove, and I am looking to see if I have any living family."
"Well you're in luck, I'm living family! Nice to meet you! I'm Beanard, but my friends all call me Bean." He motions towards us. "Come on then, follow me. I'll take you to see Pa, and you can ask any questions you want."
Tulip and Morrow take the lead in following him, with Plume and I in the middle. Viola hangs back, looking at all of her surroundings. It's best to give her some space to process what we're doing, as she is no doubt wondering if she wants to speak to relatives of the mother who made her life so difficult. I can understand the desire to run away from it, and it's not out of character for Viola to avoid a difficult conversation, but this may be just what Viola needs to help ground her. Having family members could help her remember there is still humanity within her.
I turn around to mention this to her, to pull her beside me, but all that I see is an empty street.
And a missing God.