Chapter 48
DIEM
First came the pain.
It was like my bones had been replaced with shattered glass. Even the tiniest movement was excruciating agony. My lungs burned for air as every tortured breath in was instantly gasped out.
Next came the spinning. As I struggled to distinguish up from down, the world rocked in a rhythmic, almost peaceful way.
“The venom’s wearing off,” a gruff voice said.
“I warned you it wouldn’t last long,” a woman answered. She sounded strained—scared, perhaps.
“So give her more.”
“Those snakes live on land. We’re in the middle of the sea.”
“Figure it out. If she wakes up, she’s gonna kill you first.”
The woman whimpered. “There’s nothing in range of my magic that’s strong enough to bite through Descended skin.”
I heard a growl, then a huff. The world swayed more violently, and pain lanced through my scalp as a hand gripped my hair and harshly yanked me up.
Fight, my godhood warned. Its voice was faint, still drained to meager levels, but there was an urgency to it I couldn’t ignore. I forced my eyelids open, immediately blinded by the blazing sun.
“What are you doing?” a third voice called out, sounding strangely familiar.
“I’ll handle this the mortal way.”
“Wait, don’t hurt h—”
Pain exploded through my skull, and consciousness blinked away.
A child was crying.
A woman was pleading.
And my godhood was roaring.
Fight, it shouted as burgeoning magic bubbled in my veins. Fight. Fight.
My eyelids cracked open to fire-speckled night. Voices chatted around me in easy, upbeat tones, while embers swirled into the air as people tossed objects into the flames to build them higher.
Campfires, I thought groggily. Someone must have found me and brought me back to camp.
My skull radiated with pain, made worse by the suffocating weight of a powerful nearby aura. I reached to rub my throbbing temples, but my arm wouldn’t seem to lift, as if my sleeve had caught on something behind me. Both sleeves, in fact.
Fight, my godhood yelled again.
“Fight what?” I mumbled. I managed to roll upright and blinked to clear my fuzzy vision, squinting through the darkness—
My Sophos magic stirred. My last glimpses of consciousness replayed in crisp detail in my mind: A Descended woman, and snakes sinking fangs into my skin. Then, a boat—the same woman and two men. And daylight.
“Nice of you to finally join us,” a low voice rumbled to my left.
My head snapped toward it, and my breath choked. Ophiucae stood with a little girl in front of him, tears streaming down her face as she shook with quiet sobs.
“Don’t hurt her,” a woman screamed. Kéani, the Faunos Descended I’d encountered in the forest, was on her knees nearby, her arms and legs bound with rope. Two mortals stood on either side of her, holding crossbows pointed at her skull.
Fight, my godhood barked.
I flung out a hand to shield her—or tried, at least. Metal jangled behind me, and something cold and smooth tugged against my wrists, holding them taut at my back.
“Don’t get any ideas, either of you.” Ophiucae set a hand on the little girl’s shoulder to underscore his threat.
I swallowed hard. “How did I get here?”
“It appears your army is not as loyal as they seem. One of your soldiers was all too eager to give you up.”
“Forgive me,” Kéani begged, her eyes red-rimmed and guilt-laden. “It was the only way to save my niece.”
Ophiucae beckoned to one of the mortals, who pulled a flask from his belt and crept toward me. When I returned his scowl, his eyes bulged. He tossed the flask beside me and backed away.
“Drink,” the man barked.
“I’d rather not.” I smiled sweetly. “I’m trying to quit.”
Ophiucae crouched beside the girl and brushed a dark curl from her tear-streaked face. “Do you hear that?” he asked her. “Your Queen doesn’t want to drink her flameroot.”
Flameroot. My stomach dropped. Without my magic, I’d be completely at his mercy. He could wound me, kill me, read my every thought—or turn me into one of his mindless soldiers, a weapon to wield against my own people.
“Tell me, little girl, what do you think should happen to daughters who disobey their fathers? Should they be punished?” The girl tried to shrink away, and Ophiucae’s eyes cut to me.
My glare was scorching. “What kind of man shields himself with a child?”
“I’m not a man. I’m a god.” He rose to his full height. “And I have no need for shields. I’m immune to your magic.”
“And I’m immune to yours,” I fired back.
His fingers drummed on the child’s shoulder. “But she is not.”
“Please,” Kéani cried, “don’t let him hurt her.”
I eyed the flask, then Ophiucae. “You promised to let her take the girl. It’s important for leaders to keep their word—isn’t that what you told me?”
“I promised she could see the girl.” He turned the child toward Kéani. “Here she is. Take one last look.”
Kéani screamed, straining against her bindings. The man’s finger twitched against the trigger of his crossbow.
“Wait!” I shouted. “I’ll take the flameroot if you promise me you won’t hurt them. Either of them.”
Ophiucae looked surprised. “You wish to protect the life of the woman who betrayed you?”
I paused, choosing my words carefully. “The girl is her niece. I cannot condemn her for putting loyalty to family above all else.”
He seemed pleased by my answer. “Very well. Drink the flameroot, and I will let them both live.”
“You’ll let them go? And you won’t let anyone else hurt them? No stealing their minds, either.”
“They’ll be safe, but they will remain my prisoners.” He smiled. “How else will I ensure you take your flameroot every day?”
Every day—so he didn’t intend to kill me. Apparently, he didn’t intend to use my magic, either. I was relieved, and if I was being honest, a little intrigued.
“Fine.” I jingled the iron shackles trapping my wrists behind me. “But you’ll have to free me or help me with that flask. I can do a lot of things, but making objects fly isn’t one of them.”
“You could, with practice.” He crooked a finger. “Air magic can be very useful.”
Slowly, the flask rose on its own, gently rocking on an invisible bed of wind. Ophiucae nudged the little girl toward Kéani and started for me. He knelt beside me and plucked the bottle from midair, flipping the top open with his thumb and lifting its rim to my lips.
My godhood bleated its protest as the dreaded citrus-and-smoke flavor hit my tongue.
My magic began to fade, and panic rose to chase it at how vulnerable I was about to become.
Flameroot had always stolen more from me than magic—as my godhood waned, then silenced, a dull numbness took the place it left behind.
“Auralie made you take this every day,” Ophiucae said bitterly. “Your mate believed this her worst crime of all. I’m inclined to agree.” I recoiled from the flask, and he secured the top, then looked at Kéani. “You will obey.”
Her eyes glazed over. “I will obey.”
“You will not try to fight or escape.”
“I will not try to fight or escape,” she echoed flatly.
He motioned for the mortal men to untie her hands, then tossed the flask at her feet. “Drink the flameroot.”
She obeyed without hesitation.
“Take them to the others,” Ophiucae told his men. “If the woman refuses more flameroot, kill them both.”
Kéani jolted back into control of her mind. She clutched her niece as the men grabbed them by the arms and dragged them away.
“Let me go with them so they don’t hurt her,” I pleaded.
“They won’t.” Ophiucae tapped a finger to his temple. “No one disobeys my orders.”
“You’re controlling the mortals’ minds, too?”
“I give them boundaries, as any good leader should.” He sat beside me on the melted remains of what might once have been a wrought iron bench. “I’ve stopped them from doing many wicked things. There are some lines that should never be crossed, even in war.”
I blinked at his unexpected show of honor. I’d been preparing myself for months that there might be nothing left but evil in his heart and darkness in his veins. To see a glimpse of virtue left me with a warm discomfort I didn’t know how to hold.
“You let them kill innocent Descended,” I argued.
“All Descended have benefited from the mortals’ persecution. The children alone are without blame, so the children alone have been spared.”
I held my breath. “The children are alive?”
“Of course. I’m not a monster. They are safe, far away from all the fighting.”
Again, my heart expanded in my chest. Two sides of me clashed. One warned that this was a cunning ruse. The other clung to a dangerous hope that there might be enough goodness left in him for me to stop the war—without having to die to do it.
“I didn’t hurt the adult Descended, either,” he said. “I merely gave the mortals a shield. Should they not be granted the same protection my siblings’ progeny hide behind?”
“You gave the mortals godstone, too.”
“The rebels acquired those weapons on their own. I believe your mother is to thank for that.” He shrugged. “I can neither make godstone nor destroy it.”
I tried to stifle my surprise—I can make godstone, but he can’t?—but from the curious rise of his brows, I’d failed. I quickly looked away and took in my surroundings.
The vibrant, bustling hub of Sophos City was in ruins.
Towering glass buildings had become knots of mangled steel, courtesy of what I guessed were rebel bombs.
In the lush courtyards where I’d once watched neighbors gather under twinkling lights, jeering men built bonfires out of art and papers and books, irreplaceable artifacts destroyed forever, an entire history erased alongside its people. The sight of it made me ill.
Spotlit by the evening moon, one shining beacon remained—the library Ophiucae had spared.
For me.
“What’s she doing here?”
Vance’s voice instantly set my teeth on edge. Ophiucae sneered as if he felt the same. “She is none of your concern. Where are the Descended I sent with you?”
Vance threw me a vicious grin. “You’ll have to ask her. I left them in Lumnos.”
Sharp claws tapped against the edges of my mind—but they retreated before piercing. Ophiucae stared at me, his expression unreadable. “Did any survive?”
I glared in response.
“I’ll take that as a no.” He turned back to Vance, looking disgusted. “I cleared out a realm to give you an army, and you get them killed in a week. You’re proving to be as poor a leader as she claimed.”
“When word spreads that she killed a whole realm, the Descended will turn against her,” Vance argued. “Her army will fall apart.”
I was destroying my army well enough on my own, I thought glumly.
Vance’s scowl returned to me. “She needs to die. She claims the Crowns won’t pass on to anyone else. The sooner she’s gone, the sooner we’re rid of them for good.”
I flashed a nasty smile. “If you want to be rid of all the Crowns, I’m not the only person here you have to kill.”
Ophiucae’s lips twitched up. Vance’s hand tightened on his sword. A loaded silence passed between them.
“Why don’t you go get some rest, Father Vance?” Ophiucae suggested, drawing out the title.
“I don’t need rest,” Vance fired back. “If she’s here, Lumnos is exposed. We should go back and do the same thing we did to Sophos.”
“In time. For now, I have other plans.”
“I don’t care about your fucking pl—”
“Go,” Ophiucae ordered, his growl resonating with Umbros magic.
Vance’s eyes went vacant. He stiffly lumbered away.
My glare deepened. “You say you’re not a monster, but what you did to the people of Sophos—”
“They felt no pain, they had no time to panic or fear. One moment they were living their lives, and the next—” He snapped his fingers. “I assure you, it was far better than what these mortals would have done to them.”
My eyes dropped to the debris-littered street. My heart ached for the people who had lived here and the utopia that I’d hoped it could someday become.
“Once you take their mind, is there any bringing it back?” I asked.
“Will you sleep easier if I say no?”
“Tell me the truth.”
He regarded me for a moment, then sighed. “What is erased cannot be rewritten.”
I didn’t believe him. I didn’t want to believe him. But I also couldn’t bear to think about the consequences of what I’d done, if it was a lie.
“The Sophosians wouldn’t hurt me, even though Vance ordered them to,” I said. “That was your doing, wasn’t it?”
He continued to watch me, but he didn’t answer.
“You told me if I stood against you a third time, you would kill me. You said if I came to you through the Forging magic again, I would pay. I did both.”
He looked more entertained than angry. “You are a mischievous child.”
“Then why am I here?” I demanded. “Why am I still alive?”
“Because I care for you.”
I blinked. Whatever I’d thought he might say, it wasn’t that.
“I share your surprise,” he went on. “When I made those threats, I had every intention of following through. Then I heard that the Crowns locked you up on that island like they did to me. When you stepped in front of my magic in Lumnos, for a moment, I believed I’d killed you, and I felt .
. .” His expression turned stormy. “I don’t wish to be the enemy to you that my mother was to me. ”
Though I fought it with all my strength, I could not stop the fracture in my heart from opening a little wider.
He rose sharply to his feet. “Put her in the cell,” he said to a pair of nearby mortals.
“Wait,” I protested, “why did you bring me here?”
“Nothing will stop me from seeing my plans through,” he called out as he walked away. “Not even you.”
The two mortals grabbed me, and I thrashed against their hold. Two more ran over to help, each one seizing a limb and dragging me along the rough stone of the ruined streets.
“Stop fighting,” one of them growled.
“Never,” I growled back. I yanked a leg free and swung it toward his head.
“You’re only going to get yourself hurt,” someone else yelled out.
That voice—that familiar voice, the same one I’d heard on the boat.
I froze and looked toward it just in time for the hilt of a sword to smash into my temple.
Stars exploded in my vision, and my body went limp.
As they carried me away, my daze cleared enough to reveal a brown-eyed man standing in the street, watching me go.
Henri Albanon.
Ophiucae’s newest recruit.