Chapter Twenty-Nine Dominic
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Dominic
Several times now I’ve shared the truth with my Summoners, but never has it sparked so much fear beforehand. Maybe it’s because of Inana’s proximity. The woman who forces me to feel in ways I’m not supposed to. Maybe it’s because I can’t bear the thought of how this could end.
There are two results I’m familiar with.
Looks of awe and admiration.
Or bloodshed.
I unsheathe one of my knives and flip it idly in my hand, just to steady my nerves. “Do you know the creation story?”
She frowns. “The holy texts say we were given life by the nine gods, but not much else.”
“The full story has been lost to time,” I say. “Or, more accurately, the church’s interference. All the old stories are locked away, along with the knowledge of astrotheurgy. Regardless, I’ll tell it.”
She stiffens. “Is it safe to tell stories, even in daylight? You don’t have your sword if Shades come around.”
I shake my head. “This story is a true one. Besides, Shades aren’t interested in what I have to say.”
She doesn’t look convinced, and I don’t blame her. I’ve said Shades don’t Incarnate off Shadowbanes, yet she’s seen Shades wearing my face. Of course she’d be hesitant to believe me. But I have a perfectly reasonable explanation for the Shades who look like me. One she’ll soon understand.
“Long ago,” I say, “Bastien and Vanna were the only gods in the sky, the sun and moon forever in a dance of balance. Light and dark. Beginning and end. Eventually they sought to procreate. They had seven children and gave them dominion over their own planetary bodies. Herald, Serafina, Malen, Lilith, Sylas, Dian, and Kole. Each of these gods developed their own personality, but forged as they were from their parents’ essences, there was always a balance, thanks to the influence of Bastien and Vanna.
Light and dark. Beginning and end. Life and death.
“Soon the seven young gods were struck with the yearning to procreate, so they too chose to give birth to new forms, combining their divine energies to create humankind. Thus, we were born on this world, reflections of our creators. Our very souls are made of their divinity, our gods’ unique essences woven together like a tapestry, spanning the whole of human potential.
Not just human perfection, but the full spectrum.
The balance of light and dark. The dance of the sun, moon, and all seven minor gods stitched into our very essence. ”
She stares, in awe of my story. “That’s far more detail than we were given during weekly liturgy.
I knew we were created by the gods, but to think our souls are composed entirely of divine energy.
It makes sense now, some of the things we were taught yet never given a full explanation for.
” She pauses, brow furrowed as if she’s piecing something together in her mind.
“The seven young gods gave us the seven holy virtues, didn’t they? ”
“Not just the virtues,” I say, flipping my blade again. “Remember, each of our parent gods is the child of Bastien and Vanna. They have both solar and lunar energy, a light side and dark side, which they passed on to us.
“Herald, God of Prosperity, gave us generosity and greed.
“Serafina, Goddess of Love, gave us compassion and lust.
“Malen, God of Wisdom, gave us humility and pride.
“Lilith, Goddess of Justice, gave us patience and wrath.
“Sylas, God of Harvest, gave us temperance and gluttony.
“Dian, Goddess of Beauty, gave us awe and envy.
“Kole, God of Purpose, gave us diligence and sloth.”
The awe leaves her face. “You’re saying the gods gave us not only the seven holy virtues but the seven human sins too?”
“Those aspects weren’t always called sins,” I say, “nor were they considered evil. Before One Hundred Days of Darkness, Vanna was just as respected as Bastien. Back then, darkness was seen as necessary, the way night is essential to balance out the day. Harvests must be reaped. Life must end. One must understand sadness to also know joy. Those darker aspects, those endings, it’s simply lunar energy.
Vanna’s influence reflected on our planet and in our souls. ”
Inana shrugs. “If this story is meant to illustrate that sin isn’t evil, then that means Shades aren’t inherently evil either, which I suppose I can understand.
They’re more like…terrifying wild animals.
But that doesn’t change anything. Whether we call it sin or lunar energy, Shades are drawn to it.
I hate that it’s true. I hate that it includes art, but hating something doesn’t make it false. ”
“It is false,” I say. “Art isn’t human darkness. It’s a miracle of life.”
“Why are Shades attracted to it, then?” There’s desperation in her eyes, a war between wanting to believe what I’m saying and all the evidence she’s witnessed.
All that she’s been taught to believe. Her expression falls.
“How do you explain why Shades are so obsessed with art that they’d kill us for it? ”
I know she’s thinking of the Incarnate and its fruitless attempts at replicating art. She’s right that the carver died because of her craft. The Shade was so obsessed, it killed the woman and her entire camp to try to become her. To try to do what she could do.
But not because art is a sin.
“Shades aren’t what you’ve been led to believe they are,” I say, my pulse quickening as I stumble dangerously close to words I shouldn’t say out loud.
But I can’t keep it from her any longer.
“We’re all told that Shades are drawn to sin because they manifested from sin.
That’s partly true; they are attracted to lunar energy because they are lunar energy.
Sin, if you will. But they’re also attracted to that which makes them feel alive. ”
“So art…makes them feel alive?”
“Yes,” I say. “The same way other mundane aspects of the human condition make them feel alive. The lies we tell for survival or wickedness or even just for amusement. The passion stirred between lovers. The violence between enemies. The miraculous act of procreation and childbirth. It’s all brimming with life and humanity, and they’re hungry for it. ”
I can practically feel how her heart races, how the wheels in her mind turn. She holds my gaze without blinking. “If they aren’t what I think they are, then what are they? If they’re merely lunar energy, what created them? Was it Vanna, like the holy texts say?”
I shake my head. “Shades may be made of lunar energy, but it was not the moon goddess’s will for them to manifest as monsters.”
“Then where do they come from?” She rises to her feet as if she can’t bear to sit still any longer. Her eyes flash with accusation as she paces around her side of the fire. “You said so yourself: Your sin has created Shades. You said you were the only one of us who could have created a Shade.”
“I meant that,” I say, my voice quavering with anticipation. My chest hums with it, a blend of terror and excitement. She’s getting so close to the truth now. So fucking close. I flip my blade once more. “In a sense.”
“Then what did you do?”
I sit up straighter, my hand clenched around the hilt of my knife. “Not what I did. What I am.”
Her brows lower to a glare as she asks me the same question she voiced earlier, her tone sharpened to a point. “What are you?”
Slowly, I rise to my feet, sheathing my dagger.
I stride closer to her, but not too close.
“I am a Shadowbane. A halfsoul. Not because half my soul has been cleansed of sin in a religious sense, or in any other intangible way. I am a halfsoul because half my soul has had its lunar energy physically removed.”
She goes still, eyes wide.
“Four pieces were cut away entirely.” I lift a tentative hand to my scarred chest and bring my index finger to the top half of the ritual circle carved there.
I’ve never used my scar to convey the truth to a Summoner before.
Inana is the only person aside from Calvin who’s seen it.
But I want her to know. Need her to fully understand.
I tap one glyph. “This means cut.” I point out four places where cut is marked beneath the glyphs of four different gods, carved at the ends of four different lines.
I tap on the glyphs for each of the gods’ names.
“Herald, Dian, Lilith, and Sylas. Their lunar aspects were cut from my soul. In other words, Greed, Envy, Wrath, and Gluttony.”
I move my hand to the bottom half of the circle and the three lines there, with the glyph for cut midway through each line.
Again, I tap the names of the gods, then voice their associated lunar aspects.
Or what we now call sins. “Malen, Serafina, and Kole. Pride, Lust, and Sloth. These were only partially severed from me. Enough that I still feel through them and control them, but they can act as separate entities, no longer fused to the rest of my soul.”
Her expression goes blank as she pieces together what I’ve told her.
All the clues I gave her along the way. All the half-hidden truths I wasn’t sure if I should share.
She takes a step back. “Your Shades…they don’t look like you because they tried to Incarnate from you.
They look like you because they’re…pieces of your soul? ”
I nod.
“And the ones you catch in vials…those are the pieces that were cut away entirely?”
Another nod.
Her chest heaves with shocked, weighted breaths. “Does that mean some of the wild Shades might also be slivers of someone else’s soul?”
My heart slams heavy against my ribs. “Not some.”
Her throat bobs. Once. Twice. Her voice comes out in a whisper. “All of them?”
I speak treason with my answer. “Yes. Every last one. All created as a by-product of Absolution.”
As her understanding deepens, her expression darkens. Her fists curl at her sides and her lips peel back from her teeth. “Do the Sinless know the truth? Does the church?”
“The church, yes,” I say, “but only a select few Sinless. King Kaelum and some of the original princes.”
Tremors rack her frame as she stares into the roaring fire.
“The holy texts lie. The king lies. If Shades are created from Absolution alone, then the average citizen doesn’t create them.
Only the Sinless do, yet they blame us for it.
They let their own fucking souls terrorize villages while staying safe beneath their domes of light. ”
“Yes.” I’m torn between wanting to reach out to comfort her and bracing myself for her rage. Because it’s coming. I can see it in the way her irises dart across the fire as she puts more and more pieces together. The way her body goes still.
The way her eyes slowly drag up to mine. “Did you know the truth before or after you became a Shadowbane?”
Ah, here it is. The answer that will draw her hatred. “Before.”
In an instant, she charges at me, closing the distance between us in three quick strides.
I don’t shy away, don’t step back. Not even when she wraps her hand around my dagger and pulls it from its sheath.
Not even when she flicks the blade to my throat.
“You fucking knew. You knew what the Absolution ritual would do. You knew it created Shades, yet you did it anyway. You wanted it. Is this why your Summoners turn on you? Because they find out you’re part of the fucking problem?
Because you knew the truth all along, yet so desperately want to complete the very ritual that creates more monsters?
To become one of those lying, bloodsucking—”
“I don’t,” I say, my voice like a growl. I lean closer, letting the edge of my own dagger break my skin. I hold her eyes, the fury on my face matching hers. “I don’t want to become one of them. I want to burn it all down.”