Chapter 9 The Bondsmith
Chapter Nine
The Bondsmith
Iknew the second Ellowyn’s soul returned from its stint on Meru. It was like a loud thunderclap, a zap of lightning that I felt deep within, where I was connected to Meru.
If she can create aftershocks with that strength now, what happens when she comes into her full power?
I shivered at the thought—there was little doubt that she’d be as powerful, if not more so, than my last living siblings. One of which seemed to have taken a deep, vested interest in this particular little godling.
A smile quirked my lips as I thought about our meeting in Meru hours ago.
I’d always been a bit more in tune with Meru, most likely due to my rather .
. . unique heritage, but Kaos possessed the strongest magical connection with our godly home.
I knew of his comings and goings within Meru, but never felt his movements warranted alarming Fate.
My father’s stern questioning after I confirmed to Ellowyn that Kaos would indeed find her within the Dreamscape—as she still called it—made me second-guess withholding that information, but only for a moment.
What was most concerning was that Fate was somehow unable to feel Kaos’ presence—as the creator of Meru, a magical signature as deep as Kaos’ should never have gone undetected.
The impetus was cataclysmic.
It was evident, now more than ever, that the Second Sundering was on Elyria’s doorstep, if not slowly bleeding through the cracks of the doorframe. Before we could blink, before any mortal could comprehend, it would be inside the house, infesting every corner and poisoning the air we breathed.
All hope lay now with my father’s chosen children.
Wake up, godling. There is much to discuss.
As if spurred by my impatient thoughts alone, Ellowyn’s eyelids fluttered as deep, even breaths of sleep were interrupted by a quick, loud inhale.
Her body, finally recognizing the return of its soul, twitched and spasmed as she slowly awoke.
Arms stretched overhead like a newborn babe, Ellowyn’s muscles and joints audibly popped as a deep, raspy groan left her chapped and bloody lips.
A small whimper accompanied a wince as both the physical pain from the battle, as well as the stiffness in her muscles from lying in one position for so long, began to make themselves known.
At least her soul seemed relatively healthy.
“Bondsmith?” Ellowyn’s soft voice held a deep rasp from disuse. I nodded my head quickly before reaching for the cup of water I’d preemptively filled. My throat burned at the memory of my rescue from the Last Matriarch’s camp, dehydrated and near death.
“Drink,” I commanded. “But slowly and not too much, otherwise you’ll risk vomiting.”
The words were so similar to what Torin advised me on the ship bound for Lishahl, only this time, Itanya was tucked away in bed, no doubt cuddling with Folami, who returned hours earlier with a thousand questions swimming in dazed eyes.
One thing at a time.
I had a few minutes alone with Ellowyn before Torin and her brother inevitably joined us—minutes I couldn’t waste thinking about another problem that would need mitigating sooner rather than later.
Ellowyn’s shaky hands grasped the wooden cup, and she slurped loudly as stray rivulets of water escaped her trembling lips and ran down her chin and neck.
She pulled the cup back from her mouth with a satisfied sigh before gently setting it on the bedside table.
“Are you still thirsty?” I asked, eyes cataloging every minor movement. Ellowyn’s lips quirked slightly at the corners as she primly folded her hands on her lap, sharp grey-blue eyes regarding me in the same way.
“Yes, but I can wait.” The rasp was deep in her throat and would fade in time, but the casual imperiousness of her voice was permanent.
It seemed that the frightened, caged, barely Awakened girl was dead.
In the ashes of her innocence rose a queen, hardened by grief and circumstance, one who would not let my actions in Meru go unquestioned.
I smiled wide, each of my teeth on display, and watched as Ellowyn’s brows quirked down slightly before smoothing once again. Her face was a mask of pure, cold indifference, glinting steel peering back at me.
“You are quite strange, you know that?” she remarked dryly, and I laughed loudly at her observation. “Nothing like your daughter.”
I sobered at that.
No, Faylinn was nothing like me. All soft and caring, too empathetic, much like her father. Perhaps it was the additional mortal blood that flowed through her veins, or that she was raised with no memories by a man who was loving beyond measure. Either way, I was grateful that she was unlike me.
“Faylinn is special,” I said.
“I’m aware.”
Silence hung between us as we brazenly took stock of each other.
“You knew Kaos would come for me,” Ellowyn stated flatly.
I nodded my head once, curls bobbing into my face. “I did.”
“How?”
“That is a secret between gods, Ellowyn, and not something I will share.”
“Come now, Bondsmith,” Ellowyn scoffed. “I am a godling, am I not? That is what you”—she ticked off names on her fingers—“Solace, Kaos, and your daughter have all insinuated. Surely I can be included in that secret.”
My lips flattened and I shook my head with a sigh, resting my shoulders back against the plush velvet of the armchair. It, like every other piece of furniture in this manor, was cushioned in a blood-red fabric, golden accents adorning the legs and arms.
“I hate the color red, do you know that?” I asked, my tattooed fingers trailing over the offending fabric arms.
Ellowyn blanched and frowned, shaking her head slightly before remembering to slip her mask back in place.
I preened internally at successfully distracting the ice queen enough to see her raw emotions.
Show me the rage, show me the destruction, show me the godling beneath.
She stared silently at me for a moment. I sighed with a roll of my eyes.
“It would be polite to ask why I hate this color so much, godling,” Ellowyn responded with a low, quiet growl, and I nearly smiled. “Humor me, Ellowyn. It has a purpose.”
With a deep sigh, Ellowyn relaxed further into the propped pillows on the bed.
“Fine, Bondsmith, why do you hate red so much?” Her tone was bored but carried an undercurrent of violence. I knew she had questions—questions she deemed far more important than my little aside—but I was a goddess.
What was the point in my immortality if I couldn’t have a bit of fun with it?
“Because it reminds me of blood. Not the kind dried on your hands or encrusted into your tunic.” I gestured with my chin to her clothes. Ellowyn followed my gaze only to wrinkle her nose at the sight, gagging slightly at the smell.
“You couldn’t have bathed me or changed my clothes before putting me in this bed?” she asked, plucking delicately at her clothing.
“You’ll have to ask the other godling that question. He brought you here, after all,” I said airily and watched with deep satisfaction as a cloud came over her face, her blue-grey eyes flashing with a fire that promised retribution.
“Torin,” she seethed, not bothering to conceal her emotions. “That . . . bastard.”
There she is. I smiled, a feral thing, at her emotional display.
“Technically, he’s not a bastard. Though many in Iluul would argue differently. It’s another thing you should ask him about.”
Ellowyn scoffed, all pretenses dropped. “He’s the Lord of Iluul.”
“Is he?” I prodded softly, dangerously. “Do you know that for certain?”
The godling’s head tilted in thought, bright blonde eyebrows pinching in consternation. “I feel like we’ve trailed incredibly far off topic.”
It was clear she wanted to avoid speaking about Torin, but I’d planted the seed and had little doubt she wouldn’t see that conversation to fruition.
“Indeed we have. I hate the color red because it reminds me of blood. Fresh blood as it pours from wounds, on my finger when I have to draw runes. Spend enough time around one color, and you’d begin to hate it as well, godling.”
“I don’t understand how this has anything to do with . . . well, anything,” she said, exasperated.
I shrugged, resting my head against a propped fist as I regarded Ellowyn.
“It doesn’t.”
The corners of her mouth tightened as her lips flattened, and that fire flashed in her eyes again.
“Then, why—”
“Because I needed this”—I gestured lazily to her clenched fists and displays of emotion—“that mask of cold indifference may have worked in polite society, but it won’t save you here, godling.
” I leaned forward on the bed until we were inches apart.
“Here? Now? You are in greater danger than you could ever begin to fathom. The Second Sundering is here, godling. The gods will make Lord d’Refan look like a saint in comparison to the acts they are capable of and willing to commit. ”
I pushed to a stand, taking a step back from her bedside. “The prophecies speak of you, of Torin, of my daughter. They speak of now. Cold aloofness will get you killed faster than you can blink,” I hissed, Ellowyn flinching at the snap of my fingers. “Fire and blood are all that can save you now.”
Ellowyn’s deep swallow echoed in the silence.
“I thought you hated blood,” she rasped.
“Then you weren’t paying close enough attention, Ellowyn. It’s not blood that I hate. It’s what creates it. And you, godling, have the ability to create much.”
Ellowyn twined her muddied fingers together.
“Tell me what I need to know,” she said, fierceness winding through every word.
“That’s much better,” I stated and slunk back into the chair nearest her bed, curling my bare feet beneath me.
Something twitched in Ellowyn’s expression at my movement—a wry wistfulness, perhaps—but it was gone as quickly as it came.
“Tell me what Kaos told you,” I demanded once I was comfortable.
Without hesitation, Ellowyn gave me the quick version of Kaos’ visit.
I was unsurprised that he discovered her magical identity, though I had hoped that would occur much later.
What did surprise me was that he withheld the information from Solace.
Even before the First Sundering, the two of them were closer than any of our other siblings.
If there was a rift forming between the two remaining deities, the mortals needed to exploit it.
“He explained you have another two powers flowing through your veins?”
Ellowyn nodded her head curtly. “Yes. Creation and Destruction”—tendrils snaked down her arms with her words before absorbing into her skin effortlessly—“but also Pain and Pleasure.” The same effect did not repeat.
“You will need to train those magics. Learn to access them until it’s as easy as breathing. You rely too heavily on your Destruction Magic. It’s a weakness my sister will exploit, especially because you do not hold full control of the power.”
“Then who does?” The question was innocent enough, but it was clear there was an underlying demand for that information.
“Kaos,” I hummed quietly and watched as Ellowyn seemed to put together a puzzle in her head.
“Interesting,” she mused. I waited for her to elaborate, but it was clear she was keeping some of her encounter with my brother to herself.
A predictable, harried knock on the door followed by the jiggling of the doorknob broke our conversation.
“Fuck, it’s locked. Why is the door locked?” a muffled, decidedly male voice groused from the other side of the door.
“Seems our time is up, godling,” I said, rising fluidly from my chair.
“Bondsmith,” Ellowyn called to my retreating back. I paused and turned to face her once more.
“Godling?”
“Are you . . .” She took a deep, fortifying breath before continuing. “I need to know whose side you are on—if you will become a problem as we . . . deal with the gods.”
There was a second string of curses from beyond the door as the knob jiggled once more.
“I am on no one’s side, Ellowyn.”
“Everyone is on a side, Bondsmith. Everyone wants something,” she said tiredly.
A smile pulled at my lips. “I never said I didn’t want anything.
In answer to your question, I do not think Elyria would be best kept in the hands of my siblings.
Once, the gods walked peacefully here. Cared for humanity, blessed them with magic and technology.
Even fucked them to create descendants.”
Ellowyn raised a pale blonde eyebrow. “But?”
“But the time for peace is long past.” Metal scraped metal as tumblers clicked with the turn of a key. “Now . . . now is the time for blood.”