Chapter 3 #3
There’s some grumbling, but the blessed seem to accept that.
We’ll begin now, Hyperion says.
Prince Axel!
From the edge of the water, a large water blessed surges onto land, disturbing the gathered earth blessed. She’s sky blue with small, delicate horns all around her face. I recognize Plumeria, and apparently, I’m not the only one.
“Plumeria?” Liz ducks underneath Gideon and disappears under a churning mass of blessed who are upset at the interruption.
I start to move toward the place she just vacated when she shoots up and out, winging her way to the river’s edge.
She finally lands near a distressed Plumeria. “Are you alright?”
The blessed part more easily for me, and I follow Liz, pressing past the gathered celebrants until I’ve reached Plumeria. What’s wrong?
It’s Gaia and Gunnar, Plumeria says. They—I think they’re dying.
Dying? I look around. From what?
They built almost the entire wedding pavilion, Plumeria says. I was brought in for the fountain. She tosses her head, and I follow her line of sight. I hadn’t even noticed there was a fountain beyond the columned and raised platform I’d been standing on for the ceremony.
Where are they? As far as I can see, there’s a veritable ocean of water, earth, and strike blessed. I’m not sure where she came from.
They’re on the other side of the city, Plumeria says. After they finished, they said their energy reserves were depleted. They were searching for food.
“Did they find any?” Liz asks. “Are they starving?”
Our energy needs aren’t the same as a human’s, I say.
“I’m aware,” she says. “But when they use up energy, they need to replenish, and Gaia at least was only recently freed from human control.”
And?
“She was tortured and rushed back with me,” Liz says. “I doubt she’s had time to eat recently, and if she helped make all of that.” She points. “If they’re stronger, they might not even realize how much more energy they used.”
We can check on them later, Asteria says. For now, we must continue the ceremony.
“It’s fine,” Liz says. “You go on. I’ll go with Plumeria to check on them.”
And what exactly will you do for my people, weakling?
Liz ignores me and swings up on Plumeria’s back. She does it easily, grasping the vibrant blue scales along the blessed’s ridgeline, like she’s done it before. “Let’s go. Gaia will be happy to see me, at least.”
She was asking for you. Plumeria spins around, heading for the river without even waiting for my permission.
No, I say. I’m coming, too.
But—
I don’t wait for Asteria to complain. I’m not in a mood to hear it.
If my people are dying, it could be connected to the augmentation of their power, as Liz said.
I’ll return once I’ve determined what’s wrong.
I leap into the air, hovering for the beat of a human heart before my wings pump, sending the gathered blessed careening sideways all around me.
But I’m fast enough to follow Plumeria, and that’s what matters.
As she said she would, she travels across Selfoss and stops on the far side, near the water.
There’s a pen constructed of wood containing some kind of creatures, and one of them has been killed.
Its bloody entrails are spread in a grotesque line.
It smells. . .good, which is hardly surprising.
As an earth blessed, I’ve always been able to consume most anything.
Liz. Gaia calls my former bonded, not me. You came. Her call’s weak—no wonder I couldn’t hear her from across the river. I heard the bond’s gone, and he doesn’t remember you.
Liz reaches for Gaia’s face and presses her hand against the great, almost-black head. “What’s wrong?”
I’m so sorry—after all you’ve done, all that you’ve been through. Gaia closes her eyes, and then reopens them slowly. If he remembered. . . he would never. . .
“I know.” Liz makes a shushing noise. “Later. We can talk about this later. Right now, we’re going to help you—whatever you need.”
We? When Gaia’s head turns, her eyes widen. I’m sorry you came. You’re supposed to be mating. I thought Liz wouldn’t want to see the ceremony, anyway.
Why would she think that? I drag the chunk of the bloody, furry beast toward her. It’s small, but it should be enough to help. Eat.
Gaia turns toward Plumeria. You didn’t tell him?
Tell me what?
I’ve known Gaia since I was born. She’s fierce and strong, albeit small, and she’s brave. Her eyes, however, are sad right now. Resigned. It’s time for me to serve in a new way.
You’re not old, I say. You have time yet. Eat.
I tried. She shakes her head. I can’t process anything.
You—what do you mean?
Gaia closes her eyes, so I turn toward Plumeria.
What’s she saying?
But the water blessed isn’t paying any attention to me. She’s crouched over Gunnar. When she turns toward me, her voice is small. He’s dead.
Why didn’t they eat? I’m practically roaring. There’s food right here. That’s when I see it.
Since we left Earth, millennia ago, only the earth blessed have been able to consume anything but the flesh of other blessed. When the others try, they ingest it alright. . .until they inevitably puke it back up.
Along with a strange, bright greenish yellow goo.
There’s a pile of it next to Gaia and another near Gunnar.
As Gaia dies, I begin to fear the earth dragon’s upgrade might very well spell our doom.
If they can’t eat anything but dragon flesh either.
. .we’ll be stuck consuming a rapidly diminishing population, and our former meals won’t be nearly as keen on sacrificing themselves now that they’re not weak and won’t be able to procreate.
The clock for finding the heart just sped up.
If we can’t find it, the blessed are going down. Fast.