Chapter 29
BECAUSE OF YOU
Acacius
“Welcome back, Lord Acacius.” Solasta bowed her head, her spiked golden hairpiece fanning forward with the motion. The goddess’s dark curls spilled across the large jewel and over the satin blush of her dress.
Acacius took a seat in his magnetite throne as he acknowledged the High Goddess of Fate with a polite dip of his chin. She sat across the pearl stone table. “Thank you, Lady Solasta.”
His pulse fluttered in his throat, the unease of the meeting agitating his stomach. It was up to him to convince the Council to punish Soren and eliminate the threat against the child, all while Marina was in Hollow City, tangling with the High God herself.
She will be okay.
Focus on the task at hand.
Tropical greenery decorated the marble room. The Land of Entity’s heavenly glow poured through the windows. Cassius always used to complain of its radiance, and Acacius would agree quietly, careful not to magnetize Iliana’s wrath onto him.
His sister’s realm was vastly different from his and Cassius’s. The lingering stillness of it perturbed Acacius, like talons scraping down a sheet of tin.
His heart squeezed as he fidgeted with the hem of his blazer, forcing his eyes over to the Stygian throne, sleek, with sharp, carved edges.
Mavros sat with his hands joined in front of him on the table, his thick dreadlocks pulled up in a whorl behind his nape. He gave Acacius a friendly smile and a slight dip of the head.
Acacius returned it.
“It’s about time,” Iliana scolded. Her long, ivory hair was pulled back into a neat bun, making it easy to spot the tension in her jaws.
The muscles in Acacius’s shoulders clenched in response to her judgmental tone. “Forgive my past absences, Sister, but I am here now, aren’t I?” He forced himself to meet her golden gaze.
Iliana let out an unamused hmph, crossing her legs in her rose quartz throne. “Do get on with why you’ve called this meeting.” She waved him on.
Suddenly, he regretted agreeing to call the meeting and face his sister like this. He already knew what she would say, and for the first time in his life, he was going to have to push back against her without Cassius on his side.
Acacius licked his lips, glancing at Naia to remind her of their agreement.
Keep your mouth shut.
The High Goddess of Eternity held herself in a rigid posture, rolling her lips.
She gave a subtle dip of her chin to convey she understood, the motion clinking the chained tassels of the butterfly hairpin in her silver hair.
Acacius resisted an eyeroll and pulled at the collar of his turtleneck shirt as he addressed the Council.
“It’s been brought to my attention that the High God of Trickery and Mischief is framing his illusions as my Daemons, in Hollow City.
As you can imagine, that is creating a rather bad reputation to my name. ”
“Soren?” Azara asked, positioned right alongside Iliana. Onyx crystals glistened in the deep red of her hair, matching with the lacy, black gown that she wore.
Acacius was well accustomed to her expression, ever irritated and contemptuous.
However, there was more of an edge to her demeanor this time, and her gaze was narrower and full of fire, its intimidation fermenting dread inside him.
Just like Iliana, he imagined Azara, too, was displeased with his past behavior.
“So, you know the god,” Acacius said, treading lightly with his tone. He did not wish to quarrel with her.
“Of him, yes. The three of us all watched him defeat his predecessor under the guise of a cloak and mask. Since, he has kept to himself.” She referred to herself, Acacius, and Iliana. “Why would someone such as him want to frame you?”
Acacius placed his hands in his lap to keep them still. “To draw attention off himself while he targets the Himura demigod.”
At the mention of the child, all eyes briefly flickered to Naia and then back onto him.
“It’s inevitable that things like this will happen, given the situation,” Azara continued, cold and detached, as if the demigod’s mother did not sit across from her. “The deities are unnerved by him.”
“Perhaps,” Acacius said, sensing the direction the conversation was heading, “but I do not enjoy unearned infamy, as you all know. If he continues to drag around my name, I am afraid I will be forced to act.”
Iliana and Azara shared a look, both contemplating which was worth dealing with—Acacius’s rash actions, or the Council getting involved.
Acacius smirked. He could do this. Marina was counting on him, and he wanted nothing more than to absolve her worries.
Soren would get the punishment of grandeur that he deserved for betraying her, and it would serve as an example to all other deities of what would happen should they attempt to harm the demigod.
Iliana let out a breath. “Do you have proof of these claims?” Her condescending tone irked Acacius, an annoyance of his that she knew very damn well about.
He flexed his jaw, arresting the instinct to snap at her. “I have an entire organization of witnesses.”
“Members that are a part of the Himura witch’s organization cannot be trusted. Of course they’d side with the child.”
Bullshit.
Acacius held his sister’s baiting glare, the slight curve of her lips and lifted eyebrows stroking embers under his skin.
In his periphery, he could see Naia’s hand moving up to her mouth, casually positioning her fingers over her lips in an attempt to keep herself in line.
She had to remain impartial, a servant of their kind, nothing more.
The second she spewed emotion, Iliana and Azara would look down on her, and their plea would fail.
The Council was a place of professionalism, and any sliver of bias would be met with consequence.
But this had nothing to do with her or her child or the politics surrounding them.
Iliana was angry at him for the negligent decision to shirk his Councilor duties, for being a catalyst in Ruelle’s end. Ultimately, he was to blame for the Chaos amongst the deities. Had he not acted as a pawn in Ruelle’s game, Naia would’ve never needed to revoke her immortality.
Iliana had a right to be vexed with him, but this was no time for her petty grudges.
When they were children, she intentionally made his life harder as a form of punishment—withholding his dinner until he apologized for his tone or guilting him when he crushed her craft by accident.
This game with her was exasperating, and he no longer wished to dance for her forgiveness.
“I suppose I shall rephrase my intentions.” Acacius sat up in his throne, pinning an unyielding look onto Iliana.
“There is a deity out there as we speak, impersonating my Daemons, in an attempt to harm or kidnap the demigod child. Imitating my Chaos should be grounds for punishment. Imagine if your powers were the ones being implicated here.”
“You think highly of yourself,” Azara scoffed, turning her cheek at him, high and strong, like it could take a punch without shattering. It glittered with glamor. “Technically, the High God of Trickery and Mischief has done no wrong.”
Acacius slammed a fist down on the table. “Monsters are lurking in a major city, threatening mortal lives, all falsely in my name.”
Iliana regarded him with solemn disappointment, as if she expected nothing less from him.
“We do not punish gods for inflicting harm on the mortals unless it affects the population drastically, to the point of shaping the world as a whole. Their inevitable retribution has always been losing the humans’ favor from their actions. ”
“And threatening the child?”
Iliana nodded in finality. “He has done no harm.”
“Dammit, he will!” Acacius raised his voice. “That is why I am here, to try and prevent it!”
“We cannot punish a god for a crime they have not yet committed, Acacius!” His sister’s words grew to match his decibel.
Acacius glowered at her, the muscles in his forearms spasming as he constricted his fist on the table. “This is a decision we all must make, Iliana. You are not the Council alone.”
The room fell stiffly quiet to the tension between them. The birdsong and the low, consistent chime from the white light that glared through the windows all grated Acacius’s ears.
His pulse drummed manically in his chest as he held Iliana’s wrathful stare.
She could say he was impulsive and reckless all she wanted, but he wasn’t the one allowing his emotions to interfere with his judgment.
Chaos brewed amongst the deities. Soren targeted Ash, but he was only the first god to do so.
In the future, there would be an accumulation.
How would the Council handle such qualms then?
Their decision now would define what was yet to come. The deities were watching.
If Cassius were here, Iliana would’ve asked him what he thought, and if by some damn miracle their brother agreed with Acacius, Iliana would’ve given in. His own words, though, never seemed to reach her.
Iliana tore away her gaze and let out a sigh, massaging her temples. The flowing sleeve of her chiffon blouse fell into the crook of her elbow. “All in favor of punishing Soren for impersonating the Daemon, show of hands.”
Naia raised her arm.
Mavros’s hand came up as well.
Acacius lifted his rigid fingers, keeping his elbow propped on the table.
He glowered at the new High Goddess of Fate.
Solasta, in response, cast her eyes downward.
He’d have been willing to give her a chance, but her cowardice filled his mouth with revulsion.
The vote was a tie.
Acacius set his jaw.
His sister rose from her throne, her body language hostile. “Ties rely on the founding members to make the terminal call. Consider this topic, and this meeting, adjourned.”
With that, she swiftly exited through the ivy-covered threshold.
Acacius was on her heels. “Iliana.”
He stormed after her down the marble corridor of her palace.
She whipped around, eyes blazing like two distilled infernos. “We will not punish Soren for a crime he has not committed. I won’t allow it. Who next, after him? Who else would be chained for the possibility of transgression? It’s not how law works, Acacius.”
It made no sense. They’d punished gods for far lesser crimes than this.
Order, justice—it was the Council’s duty.
Without it, pandemonium would transpire.
Iliana knew this. She’d listened to him back when they ascended to their roles.
It was the reason why they’d established the Council.
Chaos left unchecked would devastate the world, and he needed her to level those scales. Why wasn’t she listening to him now?
“Just because Cassius is no longer with us, do not think you can exclude me from this Council’s founding.”
Iliana shoved her finger in his face. “The Council has been nowhere on your priority list for the last eight months. Do not think I will reward your carelessness. You are only here because you need something.”
Fury surged up his neck and into his ears. “I am not a child, Iliana.”
“Then grow up and stop acting as one!” She seethed as she spat the words.
Her pointing out his childish behavior was nothing new. And the longer he searched her face, arranged in ugly anger, the louder her demands rang in his ears.
She was adamant on keeping the Council out of this situation. Why?
A dark, cynical chuckle left him as he stepped in closer, towering over her. “Your stress is palpable, dear sister. The fuse for ruin grows shorter each day amongst the deities, and like always, you look the other way to avoid watching it set fire.”
Cassius and he had always been the ones to stare into the blaze, unremorseful when it came to dirtying their hands.
As a Council, they did what had to be done, not what won them the favor of their kind.
Iliana’s mouth twisted, and she narrowed her eyes up at him. “And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?”
“Soren is after Ash, but if the Council intervenes and protects the demigod, scrutiny will be directed to us by those who oppose his very existence. The child’s death is what deities are waiting for—what they want.
And protecting him is a confrontation that you do not wish to deal with, seeing as we have new faces among our members, one of which is the mother of that child.
” He smiled bitterly, shaking his head as he gave her a repulsive once-over.
“Your dedication to ignorance is outstanding—a tiresome quality you seemed to have carried with you from your mortal life into the divine.”
“And what of you? I am doing all that I can to hold order amongst our kind, and you are set to destroy it, like you do everything else. It is why Cassius is no longer here, why he must live his days as a mere middle god.” Resentment and enmity spewed from her like a foaming tide.
“Because of you,” she said as she jabbed her finger into his chest, “I no longer have my confidant.”
Acacius nodded in a slow, lethargic motion, the pain of her jab numbing through his chest like poison.
Cassius, the more level-headed of her brothers, the dependable and sensible one, was no longer there with her.
Up until now, it had only existed as an insecurity of his that developed back in his mortal days. As a child, he’d noticed the way Iliana regarded Cassius with respect as her equal, and he’d despised how she neglected that sentiment to him, always making him feel inferior to her.
Acacius used to compare himself with Cassius—even tried to be more like him—excelling in everything he did, perfecting everything he touched. It was a miserable, losing battle that Acacius did not allow to follow into his divine existence.
And yet, here he stood, in front of his sister, who thought less of him than Cassius for simply being. Even after all these fucking years, she still detested his nature.
“I see.” Acacius said, voice small and contained. He stepped back. “I am only here as a member of this Council because I died that day alongside you two.”
Iliana’s rage settled into a remorseful frown as she took in the hurt on Acacius’s face.
She extended her arm. “Brother, I—”
Acacius took another step away, rejecting her comfort.
“Consider your feelings on the subject heard, Iliana. I will deal with Soren on my own.” He turned to leave and then halted, looking at her one final time.
“You will not punish Naia or Ronin for protecting their child. As a founding member of this Council, I forbid it. You will grant them that.”
Before she could dispute, Acacius disappeared from her hall, bound for Augustus.