33 Imogen
Imogen
I could only flutter the lids of my eyes.
Despite the way I tried to force movement into my limbs, I remained still, strewn over hard, warm stones. Pain, disorienting pressure. Through my bleary gaze, all I could make out was a single glowing orb of strange light, hanging above me like a mist-laden amber moon.
I squeezed my eyes shut. Breathed. Tried to clear the haze, to shake whatever poison had been forced into me. My heart was an angry drum in my ears, and I realized too slowly that my hearing was dampened. I could feel the wet air clinging to my bare skin. Could smell rotten seawater.
I organized what I knew in an attempt to keep my mind clear: You are inside, alone. Your clothes are gone. Your faculties are compromised.
With great effort, I forced my eyes open again and tried to look beyond that misty light, but all I could make out were walls made of wide, wooden slats.
An achy moan made its way up my throat as I tried to move my body again, as I tried to get up, but the attempt was futile.
The dull sound of scraping metal made me gasp.
“It’s only me.”
I knew that inflectionless, sage voice, even through my deadened hearing. “Aleka?” Another scrape of metal. I couldn’t move my head to follow the sound.
“Yes.” That metallic scraping came again.
My breathing ticked up. “Aleka… help. Help me.”
Scuffing footsteps, and the top of her silver-lined head of dark hair made its way into my line of sight. She stood directly above me, backlit by the orb light so I could not see her face, but I could see her robes.
Pale, fleshy pink. With a bright red sash running down the front of it, from her neck to her toes. In her hand—the one that wore a ring with Varya’s sigil on it—was a black, curved blade.
“I don’t… understand.” I gave a small whimper. “Why?”
“That is the question you ask me? Why?” She gave a light chuckle, feet shuffling once more. “But I expect you do deserve the why of it. And I am willing to give it, as all of this would be more palatable if you were truly able to understand.”
She lowered herself to her knees beside me, and with a sickeningly gentle touch, tilted my head by the cheek so I could see her properly.
“Now,” she said, resting the blade across her lap.
“The longer I have lived in this world, the clearer I see what is right.
And true. I was very young, but I knew the Great God Panos himself, and he was as staunch and righteous a ruler as there ever had been.
The best of the Great Gods, if you were to ask me.
He shared his power, punished justly. His son, however, clipped my awe like one does the wings of a bird. My admiration was suddenly grounded.
“You know as well as I that the Great Gods simply… were. They did nothing to earn their power, nothing to maintain it. Using it cost them nothing. They gave themselves crowns, built themselves kingdoms. You Gods exist at the apex of a mountain, as it were, with no need for the rest of us below. We stand at its base, looking up, hoping, waiting for a benevolent glance to pass our way.”
Aleka tilted her head back, basking as if a ray of warm sunlight had fallen upon her.
“But Eusia… she needs me. Needs every one of her devotees. And in a way, it elevates us all to commune with her magic. Magic that she has fought to craft herself. With resourcefulness, relentlessness, courage—she has vanquished death and Gods alike.” She leaned in closer and I could see the feverish passion shining in her eyes.
“And if she is greater than the Great Gods, then what does that make those who have fed her? Those who have seen to her care and—”
“It’s wrong—”
She tutted through a tight pout. “That is very sweet of you, but how could it be wrong when it is the way of nature? Doesn’t every great beast in the realm hunt and feed on those weaker than it? Don’t we praise and revere them for their strength and prowess?”
“In this world you hope for…” My voice was so weak, it wobbled and cracked as I fought to form words. “What makes you so certain… you yourself will not fall prey to the beast you so dutifully feed?”
She huffed an amused breath. “Cunning. Precision. I am not like you, so bloated with power that it spills from me where it may. So mighty that I barely bother to think. Like Eusia, I must plan. And work. I must know where each step will fall before I take it.” She leaned back and took up the blade upon her lap.
“Can you move your legs yet? Your arms?”
She asked it with such blitheness that I couldn’t answer. I managed a shake of my head.
“Ahh, but your head can move. Almost time then. It must be just right.” She set the blade beside her and scooted toward a small pipe that was attached to a long waxcloth tube, the end of which I could not see. She brought the end of the pipe to her lips and began to suck.
The realization and horror of it struck me with brutal force. “No.”
She pulled the siphon from her mouth and water poured forth from it, cascading over her robes.
She rolled me onto my side, and shoved it deep into my mouth, where she held it firmly.
My chest swelled with vile seawater. It grew heavy until the fiery sting of it moved from my lungs to my back, where my wings ripped free.
“Very good,” Aleka said to herself. With her lauded precision, she pulled the siphon from my mouth and rolled me onto my stomach, which forced all that slimy water up and out of my lungs.
She moved with impassive, unhurried efficiency. Taking up her blade, rising from her knees.
I could see more of the tiny room from this position.
I could see the reflection of the orb light rippling over a small, round pool.
My panic was a burning bolt. “And what of Theo—” I managed to say as she rustled and moved above me.
“Have you spent all these years serving him… praising him, only to… to betray him—”
“Theo is a good and honorable king. He’s a powerful, unmatched God.
” I felt the hem of her robe across my skin as she stepped over my limp body.
She settled herself atop my lower back, below where my wings hung limp.
“For many years, I found purpose and pride in my service to him. But yet the hierarchy shows us the way.”
“The… hierarchy?”
The cold edge of her blade pressed into the muscle at the base of my left wing until it stung. She dug it in, deep into the root, and the pain was so vast, so shocking, that at first, I couldn’t even scream. Streams of hot blood raced over my skin, down my ribs, across my shoulders.
It was a moment before air filled my lungs again, before the muscles in my stomach would move enough to let my trapped whimper grow to a slashing cry.
Aleka let out a short breath and said, “The big fish eats the little ones.”