51. Chapter 51
Chapter 51
Viola
M y eyes adjust from the darkness of the shadow vision to the seemingly blinding light of the room I've stumbled into. The buzz of Ytopie's grid attacks my ears, and I know I've successfully made it to the city.
"You came."
His voice is soft, gentle, and surprisingly reverent.
"You came," he repeats.
The brightness lessens as the room comes into focus, and I see I am in the basement apartment Tulip and I stayed in within Ytopie, and Himureal is sitting at the table with his eyes locked on me. "I didn't think you'd come. I appreciate it, Viola."
I grunt and slide into the chair across from him, looking around the familiar space that now bears the mark of the God of Winter. "I like what you've done with the place," I say sarcastically. He's got clothes strewn about, empty wine glasses on every surface, and a mess of books and paper littering the furniture. "I didn't know Gods could be slobs."
He growls a little under his breath before composing himself. "I have too much to do to worry about tidying up. I'll send someone down to take care of it for me eventually. "
Scoffing, I lean back and cross my arms. I narrow my eyes at him before I speak, "It's time to tell me everything, Himureal."
Pushing back from the table, he grabs a bottle of wine from the countertop off to the side of the room and two glasses. He pours us both a glass and then pushes a tray of roasted nuts, bread, and cheese towards me. "Of course I will. I bound myself to you that I would tell you what you needed to know. But first, you must be starving. I can only imagine how little you've eaten as you've been traveling."
"We've done okay, but thank you." I snag a piece of bread and chew it slowly, accepting the glass of wine he offers in my other hand. We lock eyes over our glasses, and I raise my eyebrows at him, a silent command to get started. With a large gulp, he nods.
"I owe you a story, I suppose."
The silence around us is charged, waiting to spring away at either of our urgings. I sit with it, my intentions hanging on the edge of my mind, ready to be thrown out into a vision as soon as I need to.
"I've told you before, I was the first God. I'm not sure how I arrived here, but I was the first. Once my siblings arrived, we were all there was. No humans, no beasts. Just the four of us and a beautiful world where we could explore. But it was a lonely existence. As much as we loved one another, we needed more. We worked together, each pulling small pieces of ourselves apart, using them to craft the humans and beasts that would inhabit Krillium."
He pauses and takes another sip of wine, and I mirror him. My aloof posturing fades quickly as I hang on to every word he's saying, having never heard anything about the creation of our world.
"It only took the smallest of specks of ourselves to create the first generation of humans, and we were thrilled. We had others to talk to, to shape, to learn from. We didn't ask to be considered their Gods. We gave them our names and the nicknames we called one another." He peers at me over his wine glasses. "That's what Frostweaver is. It was never a title. It was a nickname given to me by my brother Avidor." Whenever he speaks of his siblings in the past like this, his voice softens. He loves them, despite whatever it was they did to him.
"The humans began to worship us of their own accord, knowing we gave them life. We found that as they did, our magic grew. As our magic grew, the land flourished. It was a positive outcome for everyone."
I lift my legs to rest on the chair and pull my knees to my chest. "It sounds peaceful," I whisper, wistful of a time long before my own when everyone lived in such peace.
"It really was, Shadowweaver." He runs his hands through his hair, the thick strands mussing with friction. "I loved it. I had a small faction of humans who declared me their God, and they brought me offerings, and their fealty was enough to keep my magic humming in approval." His face clouds over with the memory, and a soft, beautiful smile crosses his lips.
"What kind of offerings?"
"It could be anything, really. It just had to be offered up in true devotion. Secrets, worries, fears, and promises were the most common offerings. But if someone didn't want to make themselves vulnerable in that way, they could cut their hand and give tribute in blood. In blood." He sighs, running his hand down his face. "In blood. I'm sure you can imagine the effect that had on me with our magic."
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. "You could've banned it as an offering if you didn't like it."
"Oh, Viola, but I did like it. I got to know my people that much better through their blood. That level of trust in me filled me with more devotion than any of the others." His smile is wistful in remembrance. "But my siblings," his smile falters, his voice lowers, "were not satisfied with their factions, with their offerings. They wanted more."
My brow furrows, and I take another sip of wine to distract myself. "Why would they need more?"
"Truly, I don't know. I had all the magic I needed, and I had the smallest faction. But they began instructing their followers to recruit humans without a declared God to bolster their numbers. This is when the first high priests came about."
"The draw, right?"
He nods. "Yes, the draw. It was something we all agreed on, casting a fleck of our magic into the world. It was absorbed by a human who then became our filter for the devotion of the land. When the person holding the draw passed, the magic would move on, seeking out a worthy host. The goal was to stop the Gods themselves from interfering with the human matter of recruitment. Instead, the others perverted it, latching onto their high priests as someone to control, to force to do their bidding."
"How could they force it?"
"It was not intended, but the draw is quite precarious. If a God does not accept the devotion of the one with the draw, it can send them into madness. I only had to see the effect of rejection once to learn my lesson. Before killing himself, that high priest slaughtered his own family." His voice cracks, betraying what appears to be real emotion.
My mouth dries out as I ask, "That priest was yours?"
"Yes." The sadness in his voice is evident. "He had similar ambitions to my siblings and was determined to ensure I had the largest following. I told him that if that was his goal, I didn't need him. It was a severe example, and who knows if a rejection would have ended that poorly again, but I was never willing to risk it after that."
We both drink from our wine, and Himureal grabs a chunk of cheese and chews on it contemplatively as I mirror his motions. "Eventually, my siblings and their high priests developed a system. They would have the humans trek across Krillium to pay tribute to them."
"That's the origin of the Race, right?"
"I believe so, yes. I wouldn't ask that of my followers, but many still came. Our temple was in the Cliffs of Barez, and that is where we would pass judgment and preside over matters of dispute. The others would demand their followers show up with extravagant gifts, brutal sacrifices, and pure piety to bolster their powers." He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, a surprisingly human motion for someone who preexists the world as I know it. "It never needed to be that involved. Any sort of offering, tangible or not, from a believer would do. But that was not enough for them. Their power grew exponentially, and with it, so did their desire for more. Their high priests boosted their recruitment efforts, doubling down on finding humans to follow them, culminating in forcing all humans to declare a God they were pious towards."
Anxiety twists in my gut. The other three Gods, two of which I already have the magic of, were forcing humans to worship them. "And you, Frostweaver? What were you doing during this time?"
He sucks on his teeth, narrowing his eyes at me. "My high priest was with the humans, telling them that they did not need to provide so much of themselves for their Gods to have the power needed to support the land. I was fighting the same battle with my siblings. Of course, this is not something they wanted to hear from me. No one wants to be told they have too much power…power."
I finish my glass of wine and stand to grab the bottle. Himureal stops me, gathers the bottle himself, and pours us both a glass. "Please, you're my guest." I can't stop my eyes from rolling, but I sink back in my seat to sip the dry red liquid.
"I approached my siblings with an idea. I said we should remove the draw, disband the high priests, and allow the world to go back as it was. I believed that if we just spent time among humans, their love for us would grow, and they would naturally become devoted to us, bolstering us with power organically. I didn't see a need for the structure they had created. I didn't need someone to bow at my feet or slaughter chickens or whatever the rest of them were doing to know that my people appreciated me."
This Himureal that he speaks of, the one pre-banishment, sounds like the kind of God I would admire. But he's not like that anymore, is he? I cannot get the image of fury on his face when I dared to leave the garrison out of my mind. He's tried to explain it away in our clandestine meetings within shadow visions, but still, his first instinct was to command me by his side.
"And now?" I ask in a whisper. "Do you still believe that now?"
"I do." His tone brings finality as if he owes me no further comment.
"What happened next?" I can't help but be riveted to his story, sliding onto the edge of my chair and resting my elbows on the table between sips of wine and bites of cheese.
"I didn't account for the high priests," he says quietly. "I figured all humans would prefer to remove the pressure the Gods held over them and just live their lives without our involvement. But the high priests of my siblings relished the power they had over the others. Unbeknownst to me, they were conspiring with my siblings for a way to get rid of me. They believed I would be the ruin of everything and that my radical ideas would lose us all of our devotion, eventually rendering us powerless."
He rises to his feet and starts pacing, his arms waving widely. "Which is fucking bullshit, Viola. Bullshit." I startle at the use of my given name versus daughter or Shadowweaver. "People will believe in you if you give them something to believe in. It's only when they don't know any better that they will turn a blind eye. All we had to do was show the humans that we were worthy of their belief, and we would have all we needed. But their greed got the better of them, and look what they fucking did!"
"What happened?"
"They gave their priests a spell. It would require all four high priests to cast and would use magic stored in the land through devotion. They cleaved parts of themselves into objects of significance to their priests to anchor them to the realm with these seeds of magic. There was a ritual, a spell, supposedly, to allow the high priests to bring the others back without taking on their magic as you have done. All they needed to complete their plan was for my priest, Lucinda, to join them in the spell. She kept it from me for a bit, but eventually, she came to me and told me everything, fearing that Avidor would compel her to participate, and I wouldn't know what was to come."
His breathing is ragged, and I can see the fury rolling off of him. I eat up any mention of my ancestor, oddly proud that she eventually told Himureal the truth. "She didn't have much time when she came to me and begged me to help her stop it. But at that point I couldn't, it was too late. Too late. The spell was in motion, and I was the only one without a seed. She quickly fastened a Witch's Ladder from spare string and feathers, and I imbued a piece of my magic within it. I told her she had to go, had to participate in the ritual, or her children could be harmed. Afterward, she could use the Ladder to bring me back."
My stomach churns. Would the others really have harmed a child for what they perceive to be sins of its mother?
As if he can read my mind, Himureal says, "There is no end to the cruelty of the high priests my siblings had. They were ruthless. The draw didn't often choose wrong, but it certainly did for all three of them. They fed off of one another."
"You told me when you first returned that the seeds were created in case the humans regretted banishing you." There are so many inconsistencies in everything he says, it's making my head spin.
"Would you have believed me then if I told you the story of how I was the wronged God?"
I wince. "Probably not."
"I told you what you needed to hear, thinking you'd be willing to come with me and I could ease you into the knowledge of the fucked up history of this world. Instead, you attacked me, attacked me, and refused to give me a chance." His voice sounds almost sad, broken.
"You said I belonged to you! You were going to shackle me to you. You demanded I submit."
Now is his turn to wince, and he runs his hand down his face. "You don't understand what it was like in banishment, Viola." My name again, sounding soft and plaintive on his lips .
"Then tell me."
He drains his glass and offers the bottle to me. I shake my head, still sipping on the second glass he gave me. "I felt it in my abdomen first. It was as if a hole opened up inside me, sucking me inside out. And then it was black. I was in a realm of pure nothingness. There was no sound, no sight, no touch. I am not even sure how long I was truly gone because all there was were the thoughts that spun in my brain."
The idea of existing in nothingness is a complete nightmare. My thoughts are tough to live with on the best of days, but he was there, alone with his own, for centuries.
"Pure nothingness until you, Viola. Until you picked up that Witch's Ladder, spelled with curses to help the descendants of Lucinda, and pulled the feather and took on that magic I left behind. Can you see why I may have gotten aggressive and afraid that you weren't going to be on my side? That you were going to bring the others back?"
The sad thing is, I can see that. I can't imagine the fear he must've felt when he heard I planned to have him bring back the people who sent him into centuries of torture. "You like to think you'd be accepting, Shadowweaver, but I don't think you would've been. But can't you see that everything I've done has been to get you by my side so we don't need them?"
My shoulders feel tight, my head spinning at the revelations. "Don't we, though? Don't we need all seasons to be balanced?"
"Tell me what happened to your hands, Viola."
I glance down at my fingers, the dark greenish black creeping in lightning cracks towards my wrist. "Avidor's seed was in a pair of gloves. The story was that those in the family who held them smithed better weapons that fetched higher prices. This happened after I put them on."
He captures my hands in his, turning them over to see the extent of the markings. "They look just like his. Did you find any of the others?"
Grimacing, I pull the top of my shirt open, showing him the sunfire on my sternum. "An amulet. The family that possessed it, Linna's ancestors, said they hoped it would give their blind daughter sight. This happened when I put it on."
His finger traces the raised flesh, and goosebumps trickle over my skin. I flush at the contact. "Solarius had the same. And Amayrn?"
Shaking my head, I lace the front of my shirt back. "Haven't found hers yet. How was I able to take the power since I am not a descendent?"
"You could yet be one, but I doubt the others spelled theirs to only a descendent. I made that choice because I trusted Lucinda and her heirs to bring me back when the time was right. The others must have just chosen to spell it for someone who knew to claim it. When their high priests died, the knowledge must have died with them."
"Are you saying that I was able to take the power simply because I knew it was there to be taken?" I shake my head, unwilling to accept that it could be that simple.
"No, I'm sure there is a clause about being their equal or being worthy of it, similar to as was in mine. I can 't know for sure. It's not like they talked through this with me." My desire to know the specifics tears at me. Why have I been the one marked with the responsibility of all of this magic?
"They know you've gotten their power, Viola. Their power. Like me, they will be waiting for you to awaken them. Do you want to bring them back here, knowing all they've done?"
I finish my glass of wine and push back my chair, rising to my feet. "I understand why you don't want them back. What I don't understand is why you're content to push the world into Winter eternally. Why do you believe you are all that is needed? You're demanding all of Krillium worship you. Isn't what they did?"
"I've got you, why do I need the other Gods? You've got the magic of two of them, and if we find the third seed, we can leave them banished for good. With me by your side, you will be the most powerful woman in history, and we can rule this world the way it was meant to be."
My head spins. "But why? Why do you desire the ultimate power if you're just going to allow the people to live their lives as they choose?"
The smile that crosses his face sends chills down my spine. "I think my story proves that people cannot be trusted to make the correct decisions. The high priests are proof of that. They need an iron fist to keep them from doing something as dangerous as leaving their realm without their Gods again. Despite that being the plan all along, they didn't even bring the others back!" His voice is raised now, his eyes flashing with anger. "Humans and fae are the same, and they do not know what's good for them. What's good for them. So I will force them to bend as they should. They will worship me because only I know what is good for them, and I will keep the world thriving. Unfortunately, the time for letting them live as they please and soaking up their devotion died with the three high priests who corrupted this world."
A coppery taste fills my mouth, and I blink slowly at him. "You lied to me. You said that it was still your plan to let them live their own lives. You broke the soulbond."
His mercurial laugh is like ice picks in my ears. "I bound myself to tell you what you needed to know, which I did. Which I did. I did. You now know what happened and why it has to be this way."
His words seem to be repeating in my head, and it takes me longer than I'd like to force out my next words. "So after all of that, you're going to be the God you begrudged your siblings for being?"
My head feels heavy, my limbs tingling with numbness. He cocks his head to the side as he answers me. "I was naive, Shadowweaver, just as you are. I thought humans could be allowed to live their lives and they would make the right choices, but I was never brought back. My siblings were never brought back. Their choices left me in nothingness for centuries. Centuries."
My knees weaken, and I feel myself slumping to the floor, blackness filling my vision. Just before my sight winks out, Himureal leans down and presses a hand to my cheek. "I'm so sorry it had to be this way, daughter." His voice is so kind, so gentle on my aching head. "But you couldn't be trusted to make the right choice. You'll understand that this is what is best for you one day. One day. One day."
And then everything goes dark.