44. Chapter 44
Chapter 44
Viola
M ace and I haven't talked about the fact that my magic has seemingly grown to the point where it can freeze objects in time, not just in ice.
It started moving again as soon as my intentions dropped, but it gave me plenty of time to get out of the way, at least.
My mind keeps going to the conversation I had with Himureal and the backhanded way he informed me this was a possibility. I knew, theoretically, that the Gods most likely kept some of their powers from public knowledge, but this seems above and beyond.
We don't even need to say it to know we should not discuss this with Vic or anyone outside of our group. We need to keep it to ourselves.
There is no telling how useful this could be for us in the future.
Luckily for us, Vic was so thrilled with the ore she happily gave us the journal of Obliver, the high priest of Avidor, and we were able to get on the way to Feria much earlier than intended. It's better this way. I may never have the support of the citizens of Colris as their God because of the murders of two of their citizens, but at least we got what we came for.
"How far is it, do you think?" Plume asks, looking towards the horizon.
There isn't any way we could know, as none of us have traveled this journey before. Normally, it's taken by sea. Unfortunately for us, there was no boat to charter, so we have to go on foot.
"Vic said by boat it takes five days," Morrow says, hitching his bag further up his shoulder. "Which means we're in for a very long journey on foot."
We've not even had time to read the journal in our eagerness to get moving towards Feria. I didn't want to be around when word got out about anything we've done while there, and I'm eager to get past this part of my journey.
The memories here are too raw, my feelings splattered on the ground in a grotesque display of my shortcomings.
In Feria, I'll find the artifact that hosts the Spring seed, and if it's the same as the others, I'll take on Spring magic as well. I'll be the first and only person to contain magic from all seasons.
It is burning a hole in my pack not to sit down and rip through the journal right now, but I will wait until nightfall when we make camp so I don't slow us down trying to read while I walk. Just knowing the answers may be so close has me twitching my fingers on my blade. Even Shadow seems on edge, barely lying still around my collarbones.
Plume and I walk in silence together, and every once in a while, I catch her glancing at me from the side of her eye. After the fourth time, I sigh. "What is it, Plume?"
"Your hair is just … so different. It's so strange. It's pure white like fresh snow."
It's pulled back in a loose braid to keep it out of my face while I walk. It's so strange to be bald one night and with a full head of white hair the next.
I miss my natural hair. It was my father's, something tying me to the parents who left me at eighteen. Now I feel more like the daughter of Himureal he keeps calling me.
"I'm just so confused about why it waited until now to turn white." I bemoan.
"Mace said it's because you shaved your head. I wonder if that triggered some dormant magic after yours had been buried by the effects of the slag?" Plume sticks her hands into the pockets of her trousers, looking around at the swamp land surrounding us.
"Maybe, I guess. Still, if I'm honest, I'm not a huge fan of it. I don't even look like myself anymore."
I don't say that I want to ask Himureal why it changed. I want to grab his shoulders and shake him and demand to know what the hell is going on with my body. It feels like it doesn't belong to me anymore. I feel like a stranger in my own skin, an interloper who's stealing something that was never theirs in the first place.
But if I see him again, I need to tell the group. I promised Mace I wouldn't sneak off to talk to him anymore. And even though what was going on between Mace and me appears to truly be over, I don't want this to be one more thing hanging between us.
I look back at him, where he walks with Morrow and Tulip, their voices low like they're arguing. His hair falls in his eyes, pointed with sweat, and as he brushes it out of them, he looks up and catches me watching. I whip my head back forward.
As the sun goes down and the moon starts to rise, we search for a place to sleep amongst the swamp land. Plume does her best to grow us a resting ground of trees and grasses, but it's still not as comfortable as we'd like.
"We can't do this for weeks," Tulip whines, pulling her knees to her chest.
I stretch my legs out, resting the journal on my thighs. "You're right. This is not going to be sustainable. What takes five days to sail is going be weeks to walk." I look towards Plume, who's picking at a small mammal we've roasted over a fire with her fingers. "Do you think you can get us a ride?"
"Stags?" she asks, wiping her hands on the grass. "I think so, not sure how many are around here, though."
I shake my head, looking up towards the sky. "We need to fly, Plume. We need griffins."
She coughs, and Tulip gently pats her on the back. "I don't know how I could control multiple griffin. It would be risky, Viola."
"So is walking for weeks. Who knows what Himureal will get up to in that time," Morrow says.
Mace is silent, eating slowly and barely looking up from his lap. Even though we are all eating with our hands, tearing into flesh that was roasted over a fire, he still takes care to eat with grace, and I find myself sneaking glances at him during the meal. It hurts to feel such a disconnect from him. Even when we were arguing, he'd still look at me. There was still that fire in his eyes that told me he wanted to be around me.
Now it feels like he's here as a formality.
"There's no debate here, everyone. We have to get there faster, and I can't think of any other way." My tone is final, and I know they will fall in line without me having to practice some of my new influence magic on them.
Which gives me an idea.
"Mace," he looks up at me, eyebrow raised, "has anyone ever tried to blend Influence and Beast magic?"
Plume gives an excited little squeak, and Mace sports a curious expression. "I don't think so, but I like the direction of your thoughts. That could be enough of a boost to control them. We'll have to try it out with something less volatile than a griffin first."
Mace and Plume move closer to one another and begin discussing how they could make this work and what animals they should try it on. As they discuss, Tulip and Morrow move closer together and dip their heads to have a conversation without being overheard. I like seeing them growing closer, but I always wonder what it is they discuss. But when Tulip throws her head back in laughter, I realize it doesn't matter. He makes her happy, and that is enough.
With everyone distracted, I open Obliver's journal on my legs and begin flipping through the pages for something on the banishment. My breath catches on one page.
The Harvest Lord is a brilliant strategist. His plan to rid the world of the Frostweaver is nothing short of genius. While I don't fully understand the how behind the banishment, he is confident that once all four Gods are removed from the land Linna, Tireon, and myself can pull our Gods back and leave The Frostweaver stranded.
If we can get Lucinda on our side.
She is still convinced that the Frostweaver has the best interest of everyone at heart. She is steadfast in her refusal to accept that changing the way the world operates will send us into chaos. The Harvest Lord, the Radiant Sunfire, and the Bloomtide are united in the fact that removing worship requirements will leech the magic that maintains this world and ultimately end in the death of many .
The Harvest Lord wants me to force her hand. He said if I bring her to him he will Influence her into going along with the plan. While it does not seem like the best way to go about this, we may not have any choice. What else can we do when the Frostweaver plans to upend society?
Tieron is not worried. He thinks that she will fall in line eventually. Her God is cruel, and if he finds out she's even entertained our conversations he will not spare her. I suppose her God is not the only cruel one, as mine is content to force Lucinda's hand, but I cannot hold that against the Harvest Lord. It may be quiet, but this is war.
We must hurry and complete the ritual so we can fix this mess the Frostweaver is determined to make.
My mind is spinning. I can't make sense of this. Why does it feel like Himureal may not have been the one in the wrong?
I call my companions over, and they all read it with varying degrees of shock and interest in the words .
"What was Himureal planning that they wanted to get rid of him so badly they'd get rid of themselves?" Plume asks.
"Whatever it was, his high priest doesn't seem to have believed it was a bad thing." I squint at the words again, reading them silently. "They considered using Influence magic on her to get her to agree. What if they succeeded in that? What if she didn't think he needed to be banished?"
"Himureal is not the wronged one here, Viola," Mace says coldly. "He's not the hero of this story, and you know it."
"Maybe his desire to remove the other Gods has to do with the reason they banished him. What if he has a good reason?"
Mace is on his feet now, sneering at me. "Just say you want to go meet with him again, Viola. Tell everyone that you've been sneaking around to talk to Himureal."
The other three look at me, their feelings of shock and betrayal evident on their faces. Tulip's voice is quiet when she says, "Is he telling the truth, Lola?"
I rub my hands over my face, groaning. "Sometimes, when I call forth enough shadows, I go into a shadow vision, and Himureal joins me. He's been teaching me about my magic and asking me questions about my childhood." She stifles a little gasp. "But it's nothing more than that. I've told him nothing of our plan, and he's not tried to force me to join him. He says he just wants to know me." I narrow my gaze on them all. "I have done so much for everyone, been nothing but transparent in who I am. You all owe me some leniency here. Himureal is teaching me about my magic, and that's okay. He can be the enemy and still be useful."
Morrow leans back against a tree, crossing his arms. Today, his braids are plaited into a single larger braid, and his shirt is too tight. He doesn't look comfortable. "I still don't like it, Shadowweaver."
"I get that. I didn't ask for him to come join me. But since he is, let's use it. Why not find out the true reasoning behind the banishing?"
"You want to purposefully go meet him to try to get information out of him?" Mace asks, eyes narrowed.
"I want to do whatever I have to do to make Krillium better. If finding out the real story makes it better, why wouldn't I give it a shot?" He's looking at me like I'm crazy, but at least he's looking at me.
"I… don't think it's a bad idea," Plume says quietly. My head swings to look at her. "It's not ideal, but more information isn't a bad thing. I trust Viola not to reveal anything we need to keep hidden."
"How is she going to keep her hair hidden? Or her hands?" Mace asks, gesticulating wildly. I look down at my hands and wince, still not used to the lightning-like patterns that now decorate my skin.
"Illusion," Morrow says, sitting up straight. "Light and Shadow. The Shadowweaver now possesses both. What if she can cast an illusion upon herself to hide the change in her appearance?"
The idea swirls around me and settles on my shoulders. It's a good one. We've only worked with the Illusion magic once, but it was very convincing as long as it wasn't touched.
Tulip shakes her head. "It's his magic, though. What if he sees through it?"
"Then he sees through it. I have no doubt he suspects what we're doing. At this point, how can he stop us?" I ask, looking at Mace for confirmation.
Mace tightens his fists, his knuckles turning white. "Viola, outside."
"You can't keep us out of this conversation, Mace," Plume speaks up, and I agree with her.
"We'll discuss this as a group, Nightroot. This isn't your relationship, it's all of us," Morrow admonishes.
I walk across the grotto, standing as close to Mace as I dare. I'm reminded of the way we constantly challenged each other in Ytopie when the sexual tension between us was so strong it set off the first instance of Mace's magic going rogue.
This time, it's not sexual tension between us. It's just tension.
But I can't lie and say it doesn't feel good to have my body so close to his. His hand twitches, like he wants to come up and touch my face with it, but it quickly falls to his side. "I don't like the idea of you being alone with him," Mace says quietly, vulnerably.
"He can't get me there, Mace. We're literally just both in shadows." I want to point out that it's not like he has a place to be concerned about me, that he wiped his hands clean of me. But that would be a low blow. Despite not wanting to place his against mine, he still has skin in this game.
"It's our best shot at getting the information," Tulip says quietly, gently, like Mace is a creature that could get spooked. He looks between the four of us for a long beat, and then his shoulders collapse with resignation.
"Fine, you're right. We need to know what happened. These cryptic journals aren't doing us any good."
"Tonight then," I say, turning to leave the copse of trees. Mace grabs my arm.
"Wait, Viola. Please, can we talk?"