Chapter 10 #2
In her arms, I remember this isn’t just about what I’ve lost. It’s about what’s still left to fight for.
The tears that seemed impossible to stop go dry, because I’ve almost forgotten that the lives of women like Peonica, cast aside and quietly erased, are tethered to mine. Their survival depending on my victory.
If I win, it won’t just be my name that’s cleared. My word in divine matters, in Crimson Tether matters, would be law. And that changes everything. It gives me a reason to fight, not just for myself, but for every woman who’s ever been told she’s unworthy.
The thought still lingers as I sit down to eat, its weight settling beside me like a quiet companion.
Eva tells me that Mael departed in a separate carriage from Ryker immediately after the Challenge and still hasn’t arrived at the Palace.
Which gives me a perverse hope that maybe Ryker finally snapped and sent him away somewhere where he can be properly punished for what he’s done.
“So… what do you need us to do next?” Peonica asks, once our grim thoughts on what happened have settled into weary acceptance.
I wipe my mouth and lean back in my chair, so full I can hardly move. “I don’t know much about how the magic works, but I’m pretty sure I have to revive Calista’s worship to make it stronger.”
Across from me, Eva perks up. “Finally, you’ll have no choice but to listen to what I’ve learned in my classes,” she says with a grin, her tone light but triumphant, teasing me for all the times I’d yawned through her endless lectures on obscure facts.
Eva never misses a chance to share what she’s learned, whether it’s history, herbology, or ancient studies.
If things had gone differently, she would have studied in Maraneethos, the kingdom where the brightest minds gather to invent, challenge, and discover. Instead, she absorbs every lesson here as if knowledge alone could bridge the distance.
She and Mael had once bonded over their love for those distant sandy lands, dreaming about them as children. But only he ever got to visit, when he stole their sacred eels, Sparkfins, which he then cooked and ate.
Eva reaches for a thick block of chocolate and places it atop a small, empty cup. Without preamble, she takes a discarded skewer from my plate, its tip stained from the berries I ate and pierces the chocolate, creating a tiny tunnel.
“Imagine this cup is you,” Eva says. “And this tunnel? It’s your Godbound Thread, the connection through which Calista’s magic flows. It starts small, allowing only a trickle of power.” She lifts a pitcher and pours cold water, letting it drip steadily through. “This is the magic you receive.”
Peonica leans in, brow furrowed. “And the skewer?”
“Your blood offering. It forged the bond, but the connection remains narrow.” Eva sets the pitcher down, reaching for a teapot.
“Now, when people pray to Calista…” She pours hot tea over the chocolate, melting the passage slightly.
Then, with a fresh stream of cold water, she shows how the liquid now flows faster, unhindered.
“As faith grows, so does your power,” she says simply.
“More prayers, a wider thread, stronger magic.”
Peonica’s expression darkens. “But how do we make them pray for Ray? After—” She cuts herself off as Eva shoots her a warning glare.
It’s too late. This time I know exactly what she meant.
Images surge up—mangled, rotting bodies—and I draw a sharp breath before the words spill out.
“Let’s not pretend it didn’t happen. My magic…
I did something terrible.” I swallow, forcing the images away.
“And there’s no going back. No way around it.
I have to move forward and somehow convince people it was worth it. That I’m worth it.”
The last words come out so low I can barely hear them myself.
That’s the truth that hurts the most. No matter what I’ve done, what I’ve become, or the danger I represent, I have to find a way to dress it up like salvation, to convince the innocent people of Calcatra that it’s a gift, and not a damnation.
“We,” I say more firmly now, “remind everyone that Calista is the only one who can remove the curse, and once she becomes the Sovereign Goddess, she’ll have to abolish it.
How else could she expect the whole kingdom to pray to her?
She might be cruel, but she’s not delusional.
” I draw a breath. “She’ll end the Crimson Tether. ”
The conviction sounds almost real, even to me. Deep down, it’s the story I’ve been clinging to all along, that by saving my own future, I might save the kingdom’s as well.
Both my friends watch me with quiet understanding, nodding as if they already share my resolve. They’ll spread the word, I don’t even have to ask.
But the stubborn memory of the temple still clings to me. It isn’t done with me yet. It gnaws at the edges of my mind, demanding more guilt, more shame, feeding on me like the corrupted magic I unleashed on those people.
Peonica must catch something in my face, because her next question matches the one forming on my tongue.
“What happens if people start praying and the magic builds in her, but she holds it back?”
For once, I’m grateful for her relentless curiosity.
Eva’s hands still. “Then it festers.” Her voice lowers. “The thread won’t break, but magic that isn’t used has nowhere to go. It lingers, twisting, until something gives.”
Silence stretches between us as her words sink into me like iron dropped into deep water. How long can I hold my magic inside? The thought coils tightly around my mind. I’d do anything to never let it out.
I keep my tone even. “What if it’s held back indefinitely?” I ask, hoping it sounds like idle curiosity rather than something that could determine my fate.
Eva exhales. “That only happened once before, centuries ago. A Champion hoarded his magic instead of using it, letting it build inside him, planning to unleash its full might in the final Challenge. No one knows exactly what happened when it finally turned, but the records say there was nothing left of the Champion. Not a body. Not blood. Not even the audience. The entire Tourey Arena was empty.”
A cold shiver trails down my spine. I dare not ask any more questions. Instead, I pull off my gloves and lay them neatly on the armrest, as if giving my skin a chance to breathe might steady me.
After a moment of awkward silence—during which my friends exchange a ‘we should change the subject’ look I pointedly ignore—Eva finally speaks, mercifully steering us toward something lighter.
“I see you’ve acquired a new piece of jewelry,” she says, eyeing the golden band around my finger. “It’s… uh… interesting.”
Peonica snorts. “What she means is, it’s too plain,” she says. “Not your usual gems and glitter.”
I smile at her jab, thinking of all the ornate trinkets Ryker’s given me over the years. “This?” I lift my hand and wiggle my fingers. “My Godbeast gave it to me. Apparently, it’s some kind of artifact, lets me reach him if I’m in danger.”
Eva’s expression sharpens. She gestures for me to hold out my hand.
“Gods used to use artifacts for all kinds of things,” she says. “Communication. Possession. Control. It’s said that’s how they enslaved the first dragons, through artifacts like this.”
She studies the ring, eyes narrowed, as if trying to decide whether it might do one of those things to me. After a moment of silent scrutiny, she exhales and leans back, satisfied.
“No engravings,” she says at last. “The dangerous ones were always marked. Safe to assume your Godbeast isn’t planning to turn you from his master to his thrall.”
Peonica’s amber gaze lingers on the ring, hesitation flickering in her eyes, as though she isn’t ready to accept Eva’s verdict just yet.
I move my hand back, a bit unsettled by Eva’s momentary suspicion of Kaelzar’s motives when Peonica suddenly slides her chair closer to the table. “Is that how Azrakel was able to possess a human body when he left Calista? By using one of those artifacts?”
Eva nods. I bite down on a sigh—Peonica’s favorite deity again, the god who gave up his original body to live as a human with the woman he loved. The fatal mistake that cost him his life… and this kingdom its sanity.
“But why didn’t he have his magic to protect him from his deranged wife?” Peonica asks. “Ray is a human, but she’s allowed to have magic. Why couldn’t he?”
Eva glances at me, knowing very well how much I dislike Peonica’s reverence for the dead god whose lack of restraint started this all, but she answers anyway.
“The bodies of Godbounds are altered by the divine tether to contain the magic,” she explains.
“But mortal bodies can’t hold even a fraction of divine power for long, it would destroy them.
So when the gods possessed mortal hosts, at least according to the records that survived the Skyburn War, they allowed their true bodies, and their magic, to remain in slumber. ”
My lips press into a thin line. The gods played at being human when it suited them, but they never truly let go of their power. I, on the other hand, have no way out. My fingers curl around a loose strand of hair, twisting it as I fight back a surge of emotion.
“Just wearing mortality like a costume when they got bored,” I mutter bitterly. “So they could be as mortal as they pleased, but only for as long as it was convenient.”
“The God of Night and Stars didn’t!” Peonica exclaims.
I tsk. “Azrakel is hardly a good example. He chose to abandon his magic, his wife, and his responsibilities.”
“He did it for love,” Peonica interjects, her eyes shining with the romanticism of a long-ago tragedy.
“He was married,” I snap, my annoyance flaring. “It wasn’t right to betray Calista like that.”
In the past I might have let it pass, hoping Peonica would someday see this relationship between the married god and a human woman for the horrible mistake that doomed our kingdom rather than a tragic love story.
But today, it feels personal. It’s not the gods who paid for Azrakel’s betrayal, it’s the women of our kingdom. And today, I’m the one who bears the cost of that cursed kiss, while Mael gallivants on without taking any responsibility.
Peonica folds her arms, her gaze sharp. “You’ve been Calista’s Champion for half a day, and you’re already making excuses for her curse?”
“I’m not excusing it!” My voice spikes. “But she wasn’t the only one at fault. Azrakel broke her heart—”
“And you broke Ryker’s.”
The words hit like a blow, leaving no room to breathe.
“Yet he didn’t condemn an entire kingdom for it,” Peonica presses. “He didn’t destroy lives to make himself feel whole again. That was her choice.”
My fingers tighten on the table’s edge. My pulse hammers, but I don’t have the strength to keep arguing. Every version of this story ends the same way: everyone loses something they can’t get back.
I exhale sharply and say, “It wasn’t fair. None of it was.”
Peonica tilts her head, her expression softening. The argument ebbs in that old rhythm between us, familiar enough that we both know when to stop pushing.
Eva clears her throat and leans back. “You two argue like siblings.”
Peonica drags a hand down her white braid and sighs. “Well, she started it.” Her tone is lighter now.
Eva arches a brow, smirking. “Shall we move on from ancient tragedies to present ones? We still need to discuss your Godbeast. Where is he, anyway?”
I roll my shoulders, tension still coiled tight in my spine. “Talking about him requires an entirely different conversation,” I mutter. “One I’m not having until I’ve had a proper bath.”
Eva’s voice softens. “Then let’s hope the water’s still warm. Maybe it’ll wash away some of the things you’d rather forget.”
I force a small smile as I rise, not bothering to tell her that even boiling water couldn’t wash away the stain of things that happened. Things that I have done.