11. Chapter Eleven #2
The effect is disorienting by design. He exists in the spaces between—the seconds between heartbeats, the pause between sentences.
He is the hesitance before a crucial decision and the breath held while waiting for life-altering news.
The Nameless God feeds on potential—on all the endless possibilities that exist in any given instant before choice collapses them into a single reality.
He steps inside without invitation, hands tucked into the pockets of what now appears to be a perfectly ordinary suit. “Your palace grows more intimidating every century,” he remarks, voice carrying the slight melodic quality of rushing water. “Compensating for something, are we?”
“Seyr,” I acknowledge, the name already beginning to slip from my grasp even as I speak it. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”
He wanders past me, trailing fingers along a wall that wrinkles from his touch. “Can’t a god drop by to see an old friend? It’s been, what, three hundred years? Four?”
“Two hundred seventeen,” I correct, closing the doors with a thought. “Since the incident with Acherin and the plague in Europe.”
“Ah, yes.” He smiles, an expression that never reaches his constantly shifting eyes. “He was quite annoyed when the mortals developed better sanitation. Less despair to feed on. How tragic.”
I follow him into the receiving hall as my tongue runs across my teeth. “I doubt you’ve come simply to reminisce about our colleague’s dietary disappointments.”
“Direct as ever, Aakanksh.” He drops into a chair that forms itself from the darkness at his approach. “Very well. I’ve been wondering about your soul. Have you found her yet?”
The question strikes me as so absurd that I study his face for signs of mockery. Finding none, my head tilts. “Found her? I’ve known Maven’s location in every one of her lifetimes. Her longing calls to me across worlds—a beacon I could follow blindfolded through the void.”
Seyr’s expression flickers with something that might be embarrassment, if such an emotion could touch a being like him. “Oh, yes. I’d forgotten you were the only one who knew your soul from the beginning. The rest of us spent years searching. Some still search.”
Including himself, I realize. The Nameless God has yet to locate the soul promised to him by the Bright Gods after the Great War. His counterbalance remains lost somewhere in the mortal realm, perhaps not yet born, perhaps not recognizing the pull toward their destined other half.
A twinge of sympathy coats my tongue despite our complicated relationship.
How frustrating it must be to know your completion exists but be unable to find it.
Though I’m not certain if that would be worse than my own situation—having found Maven in her first incarnation, having watched over her through a thousand lives, yet never being permitted to claim her.
Never able to touch or court her properly, in the way she deserves.
I shake my head. No, that thought isn’t true.
Despite the pain of repeated rejection, I remain honored to have known every version of Maven, and to have witnessed each life she has lived.
Each rejection may wound me and leave its mark on my immortal spirit, but I would not trade a moment of my observation for the oblivion of not knowing her at all.
“Not all of us have your particular…advantages,” Seyr continues, either missing or choosing to ignore my momentary distraction. “The ability to sense longing across worlds must make your search considerably easier.”
“It has its uses,” I concede, lowering into the seat opposite him. The shadows swirl around us, responsive to my mood as all things in my domain are. “Though it comes with its own complications.”
He leans forward, elbows on knees, face suddenly intent and focused. “Such as?”
I consider how much to share. The Nameless God and I have never been close confidants, but there is a certain camaraderie among the dark gods that transcends personal affinity. We are few, after all, and our experiences remain incomprehensible to most other beings.
“Longing is…intimate,” I explain, searching for words to describe what I feel when I sense Maven’s desire—not just for me, but for everything her soul lacks.
“To know what someone wants most deeply, what absence hollows them from within…it creates a connection that can be as painful as it is powerful.”
“And yet you refuse to feed on her longing.” It’s not a question. All the Dark Gods know of my abstinence, my refusal to ease Maven’s suffering through the same methods I use on other mortals.
“I want her to choose me understanding exactly what I am,” I say, the words heavy in my mouth. “Not because I’ve manipulated her emotions or eased her pain to make myself seem a savior.”
Seyr’s bolstering laugh rings through the chamber, sharp as broken glass. “Noble sentiments from a Dark God, indeed. The Bright ones would be so proud.”
My fingers tighten on the arms of my chair. “Mock if you wish, but my methods remain my own.”
“Peace, Aakanksh.” His palms raise while his head bows. “I meant no offense. In fact, I somewhat envy your conviction. When—if—I find my own soul, I doubt I’ll have your restraint.”