Chapter 10 #2
“We don’t even know if he’s really alive!”
“What if he is?”
“Then you making a wish to him is rather binding, and you don’t want to bind yourself to a god. Who knows what he’ll ask you to do in return?”
These were the musings of people who had lost their connection to the gods.
A wish like that wasn’t anything he could respond to, nor would he deign to do so.
Wishes were the hopes and dreams of those who had nothing better to do.
A sacrifice? Now that was a dedicated person who actually wanted his help.
Not two women pretending at magic beside a pool of water.
As he turned to leave, he heard the one in the purple gown murmur something that made him pause. “If the gods are coming back, don’t you think that’s a good thing?”
“No. Not the Deathless One, at least. That right there is a villain, not a god.”
“Or maybe he’s come back to help all of us. Can you imagine? A coven of witches in this district? All the things they could do.” A long, hopeful sigh trailed at the end of her words.
He could tell she was about to say words she couldn’t take back.
And some part of him whispered that this was his moment.
All he had to do was encourage just one more word.
So, with his power tingling at his fingers, he conjured all the shadows to him and spread them throughout the square.
Her next words were amplified by magic that sparked and crackled around her.
No one but a bonded witch would see his power, but ordinary mortals would yield to it nonetheless.
“I wish the Deathless One would give us proof that he’s returned.” She set the coin on her thumb and then flicked it into the fountain. It spun in the air, a glimmering silver piece that struck the water with a soft plop.
It appeared everyone had frozen, staring at the fountain with hopeful eyes or terrified gazes that feared what would come next.
He toyed with the thought of leaving them wondering. They should fear the gods, whether they were dead or not. He and his siblings had created a kingdom for them to live in and rules that should be followed, no matter what. He shouldn’t need to prove himself.
And yet… some part of him wanted them to be afraid. Talking at a fountain about him and his coven could only bring about a darkness that none of them were prepared for.
With a flick of his fingers, shadows poured toward the fountain.
They would be impossible to track to him, even if someone was looking right at him.
He pulled shadows from nearby pots, plants, and even people.
They weren’t connected to him, but to everything else.
No one was looking at him at all, because their eyes were on the fountain as if waiting for a miracle.
They had all forgotten that he was not his sister or his grandmother or any of the kindly gods.
A few people breathed a sigh of relief as nothing immediately happened in the fountain. No omniscient voice spoke to them through the stone figure and no wind swept throughout the courtyard. Some even chuckled as they all admitted they had thought, for a moment, that the gods were really returning.
“Wait!” the woman in the purple gown said, suddenly standing and almost falling as she stumbled away from the fountain. “It’s not possible!”
He stood there, hidden in the crowd, as they all gasped and stared at the black tears that leaked out of the statue’s eyes.
And then it appeared as though dark blood began to pour out of the jug the statue held in its hand.
Black as ink, with the faintest red hue.
It filled the entire fountain with dark liquid that slowly spilled over the sides.
People screamed, rushing away from the water that poured out, threatening to overtake them. They couldn’t run fast enough. And throughout all the chaos, he stood still and reveled in the madness that surrounded him.
He was still a god to be feared. He was still the Deathless One, the nightmare in the darkness. Though they feared him, they feared the loss of their lives more.
“He’s returned!” someone screamed, their voice rising higher than all the others. “The Deathless One has returned!”
He certainly had. But he had a choice this time. No coven had summoned him; no witch tried to bend him to her will. He could be the god he once was, or he could become a god king who ruled this kingdom not just with a coven, but with a queen at his side.
The dark liquid paused, gathering back into itself and returning to the fountain. But it left a black smudge behind, words that, if anyone was brave enough to read, would reveal his message.
The woman in the purple gown was the first to approach, almost crouching as she braved the madness that had spilled out of the once-beautiful fountain.
“What does it say?” someone shouted.
“The king has returned for his queen,” she read, her voice quivering.
“His queen?” another person asked.
He couldn’t help himself. With another twist of his magic, shadows coiled around the statue.
They gathered to create a dress that was eerily similar to the wedding gown Jessamine had been killed in.
The crown he placed atop her head was the same Jessamine’s mother had worn for years.
He left the illusion for a few moments, until someone whispered, “Is that the Harmsworth crown?”
“But the Lady Jessamine is dead! The king threw her off the cliff’s edge! What could it mean?”
Another person leaned to the side, muttering to their companion, “Didn’t you hear something when you were in the Factory District last month? Rumblings about the princess being alive?”
“Yes, but that was right before the Iron Knuckles fell apart. They’ve been completely disbanded. Infection got all of them.”
“But the Iron Knuckles were the ones containing the infection in that district. Didn’t their leader work directly with the king?”
His work here was done. Elric let all of his shadows fall, and suddenly the square was sunny and bright once more, as though nothing had happened at all. More gasps echoed, some people even rubbing their eyes as though their sight was the problem.
Tucking his hands into his pockets, Elric whistled as he returned to the dress shop. Chaos needed to be sown in every district.
After all, it wouldn’t do to let the king sleep well at night.