Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I jerk awake, my heart pounding against my ribs like a war drum. The air in our bedchamber feels different. Wrong. Heavier and charged with invisible pressure that prickles my skin.
Next to me, Lark’s breathing remains soft and steady, her face half buried in the pillow and her dark hair spilling across the sheets.
I slide from the bed without disturbing the mattress, a skill honed through years of military training.
Despite my toes sinking into the thick rug, a chill racks my body.
The cold isn’t what raises the hairs on my arms.
There’s something else here. Or someone.
Spying.
Or maybe recent events overstimulated my imagination.
Moonlight streams through the window, casting our bedchamber in silvery shadow. I glide silently toward the basin by the window while straining to hear any sound out of place. Lark shifts in her sleep, murmuring something indistinct.
Water gleams in the basin, still and dark as a midnight lake. I lean forward, cupping my hands to splash my face, hoping to wash away the lingering sense of dread. Before I can touch it, the water rises to meet my fingers.
I freeze, noting how the liquid defies gravity to form a perfect sphere that hovers above the basin.
Not my doing.
“Your magic grows stronger by the day, Knox.”
The voice emerges from behind me, fluid and deep, like water rushing over polished stones.
I spin, reaching for my magic as I confront the threat head-on.
The space between me and the bed ripples and gradually takes shape.
Not quite a man. His edges blur, his form shifting like sunlight through waves.
Rivlan.
The elemental God of Water. What the blazes is he doing here?
Muscles tensing, I study him as he studies me. Seconds pass before I recall that I’m completely naked.
Not ideal to meet a god with my dick out, but oh well. “You’ve been watching me.”
Rivlan’s form solidifies slightly, though the bedposts still show through the translucent blue of his torso. “I have.”
“Why?” I keep my voice neutral, but my pulse quickens.
Close personal attention from a god isn’t exactly typical. Close, personal attention from a god during a divine war? The reason can’t be good.
“Why do you think?” His question trickles through the air.
“Oh, I don’t know.” My voice hardens. “Perhaps because of your godly war?”
The atmosphere grows thicker, like the moment before a thunderstorm breaks.
Rivlan materializes more fully. His features sharpen, revealing eyes like deep ocean currents and skin that appears to flow across his body rather than remain still.
All the statues of him seem to be accurate. He possesses the chiseled, perfect features of a priceless sculpture. High cheekbones. Strong chin. Dark, well-shaped eyebrows the same color as his hair.
“Ah, yes. The Guardian.” Amusement flickers across his liquid features. “Of course he would open up to you. Well, he simply preempted my telling you.”
Irritation courses through me, and my words come out clipped. “He was light on the details.”
“Let me illuminate them.” Rivlan drifts across the room. “There is indeed a war among the gods. Two factions. One I call ‘the traditionalists,’ led by Zeru.”
I listen carefully, analyzing each word, each nuance. Gods are notoriously selective with the truth.
“They believe gods should rule absolutely. That we are inherently better than mortals, and mortals are growing too powerful.” His form darkens. “Lark’s destruction of Narc rather proved their point.”
“Our destruction of Narc,” I correct, steel in my voice. Lark will not be isolated or targeted. If they need a scapegoat, I’ll take the blame. “We had to work together to craft a power strong enough to destroy the god’s corpse. And it still took everything we had.”
Rivlan smiles. Or at least, I think he does.
His mouth doesn’t move in the way a human’s would.
Instead, his lips pull straight back, reminding me of a shark.
“However you categorize it, the action sparked their fear. They want to reassert their divine dominance. They would rather break the world than share it.” His essence becomes almost opaque.
“My faction believes differently. Gods must evolve with mortals or become irrelevant.”
I take a minute to process his words.
Two factions.
Traditionalists who want to dominate mortals, and…what? Progressives? Reformers? Whatever they call themselves, my skepticism runs deep. Gods are gods, after all.
Power corrupts, and they’ve claimed power longer than a mortal mind can comprehend. “And you just let it all happen? Left mortals to fend for ourselves?”
The temperature drops a few degrees. “You do not understand the situation. Or the gods.”
I cross my arms, unmoved by his display of power. “So explain.”
“We have fought back. We tried to communicate.” Rivlan’s form expands, filling more of the space between us. “Cyphero, aided by my waters, placed stains on Viridian’s temple. Warnings. Directions.”
“That was you?” I raise an eyebrow and snort a derisive laugh. “Maybe you should work on your skills. They weren’t exactly clear.”
The temperature plummets again. “Zeru’s gods twisted the messages. Used their Devoted to spread fear instead of truth.”
“I think it worked.” I remember the panic after the temple incident, how the rumors spread like wildfire through Tirene. “The Devoted have been more active than ever.”
“The God of Lost Things returned hundreds of missing items to mortals, accompanied by truths.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “And that backfired spectacularly. Now people toss heirlooms into wells hoping to get godly dispatches back. Theft has run rampant. There’s a thriving black market for lost-then-stolen items.”
Rivlan’s form bubbles with what might be frustration. “They corrupt our every attempt at communication and twist the meaning. They use their Devoted, but they also make direct attacks on communications between us and mortals.” He pauses, studying me. “Did Lark not tell you?”
My spine stiffens as I glance at her sleeping form. “Tell me what?”
Uneasiness stirs in my chest. Has Lark been keeping secrets? The thought cuts deeper than I care to admit.
“Aletheia, the Goddess of Truth, tried sending Lark visions…warnings. But they were…contaminated. Degraded into confusing nightmares.”
White-hot anger flashes through me.
At Rivlan, at the gods who targeted Lark, at myself for not noticing the extent of her distress. She’s been having nightmares, waking in cold sweats, but she’s never elaborated. And I haven’t pushed. “So you gave up?”
Rivlan’s hardened presence becomes icy. “We did not give up. We changed tactics.” His voice gets lower. “Why do you think I’m here now, talking to you?”
I cross my arms, advancing a step toward him. “Why are you here?”
A beat of heavy silence fills the room.
“Because you could be a guardian, Knox. You could turn the tide.”
My head jerks. I have no fucking clue what being a guardian means, but the mere mention still turns my blood to ice. “What’s a guardian?”
Though I feign disinterest, I recall the Guardian from the portal. Remember the massive power radiating from him.
“A guardian stands between worlds.” Rivlan expands to encompass more of the room.
“Mortal and divine. Given power by the gods but not bound by their limitations. Enhanced abilities, both magical and physical, far beyond what you’ve already mastered.
With enough practice, you could protect on a scale no mortal has ever imagined. ”
My pulse quickens. The same way the Guardian protects the portal between worlds? I could become that strong?
The real question is, would I want that much strength?
I try to picture everything I could do for Tirene, for all the kingdoms. The potential spins my head so much that I need to brace myself.
I’ve survived a hundred soul-bashing things in my life.
Lost so many people. Done so many horrible things.
We may laugh now, but deep in my heart, I still feel like shit for what I put Lark through.
If I had been stronger back then…
With such power, I could protect Tirene from any threat. Ensure Lark never faces danger alone again.
I rein in my growing excitement. “And how would I achieve such exalted status? Let me guess, there’s only one small catch, right?”
“Just one.” Rivlan’s smile is almost gentle. “I would teach you. In return, you would need to be my champion.”
I scoff. One little catch, my ass.
Fucking gods. “Meaning?”
“It means you fight. For me. Against a champion for Zeru’s gods.” Rivlan’s form wavers as he shrugs.
Or maybe he hiccupped. Hard to tell.
There’s no way to keep the shock off my face. “Give me one good reason why I should oppose the God of the Heavens.”
Rivlan’s form eddies with what might be frustration or amusement.
“Zeru wants to turn mortals into cowed beings afraid of their own shadows and begging for scraps of divine favor. Far worse than they are doing now.” His voice becomes stronger.
“But an ancient covenant provides the means to avert such a thing. It only requires willing champions. Overall, it is a peaceful solution.”
The Devoted? Zeru wants to transform all humans into the Devoted?
Holy shit.
Rivlan pauses, his watery gaze fixed on me. “You can be that solution.”
Utter shock floods through me.
“Why me?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
“This is why I’ve been watching you. Testing you.” Rivlan drifts closer. “You’re already powerful. But trained to use guardian abilities? You would be unbeatable.”
The possibilities tug at me like an invisible current.
Power. Protection for those I love. An end to the chaos threatening my kingdom. Threatening every kingdom.
The allure is seductive.
Still, I’ve witnessed enough of the way gods work to know better.
There’s always a greater price. Consequences beyond what’s initially revealed. Agreeing now would be premature. Yet refusal might prove catastrophic.
I need time to consider, to investigate, to plan.
I move away from the water basin. “No offense, but I don’t think I want to get in the middle of a gods’ war.”
Rivlan’s focus stays riveted to me. “Clearly, you don’t understand what’s been happening. You are already in the middle of the war. All mortals are. But especially the Tirenese whom you hope to rule. Now you must decide what to do about it.”
Fuck. “Sounds interesting. Tell you what. I’ll think about it.”
Rivlan studies me for another long moment before dissolving into mist, leaving only the lingering scent of rain.
I stand motionless in the center of the chamber, the weight of his offer pressing down on me like the ocean’s depths.
Guardian. Champion. A war among gods with mortals as pawns. Or worse. And me, supposedly the means to end it all.
The implications are staggering. And beneath all that lies the unwelcome thrill of possibility. The power Rivlan described would change everything. Would change me.
The bed hasn’t moved, but I know the rhythm of Lark’s breathing too well. The current pattern is too measured, too careful.
The little faker. I have no idea how she managed to stay awake when Nyc, Hallr, and Orin sent me into some kind of charmed sleep when they visited her, but she did. Maybe each god independently decides whether or not they care about an audience.
I stalk toward her. “You can stop pretending to be asleep now, love.”