Chapter 40
There was nothing, but darkness for as far as she could see. Nymiria scrambled over jagged terrain, bracing her hands upon anything that she could in order to keep herself upright as she followed the dying god through the caverns of the Otherworld.
Before he'd dragged her out of Owen's cabin by the river, Owen had begged Teigh for just another moment of time.
He'd seemed desperate, his eyes wide and pleading as he pulled her into an embrace.
"If you ever get the chance to love again," he'd whispered.
"Don't be afraid. It's not always going to be easy, Nym, but it's worth it. "
Nymiria shook those words from her mind, as they only made her feel more nervous. There was no way for her to know if she ever would be able to love again. Depending on where Teigh was taking her, she could be stuck in that place for eternity, always waiting for Aziel to join her. If he joined her.
His glowing form winked in and out of her vision, his strength dwindling the further they trekked.
Though she wanted to ask questions about where they were going, Teigh kept such a brisk stride that she would have to shout to speak to him.
And while she wasn’t necessarily scared of the darkness that surrounded them, she still was not sure if she should draw attention to their presence or not.
It wasn’t until the maze they traversed through became increasingly difficult to navigate that Nymiria finally stilled, her hand finding purchase of a slick, damp wall that she could not see. Tiegh noticed her pause, his glowing form flickering as it turned to her.
“What are you doing?” He commanded. “We do not have much time.”
Nymiria choked out a laugh. “Well, that is all well and good and I will be more than happy to continue this journey once you tell me what this journey is.”
Teigh walked towards her, his footsteps and movements entirely silent—just a mist of a man passing through everything in his path. “I am taking you to the Tomb of the Gods.”
For the majority of her time spent in the Otherworld, Nymiria hadn’t felt such fear as to what plagued her now.
If it were possible for all of the blood to drain from her face, she was sure that it would have happened.
She felt the familiar sensation that accompanied fear, the slight drop of her stomach and the dull ache in her chest. “I can’t go there. ” She protested. “I’m not dying.”
“Correct.” Teigh gruffed. “You cannot die because you are already dead. Now—come! I refuse to spend one more moment on this wretched plane of existence—”
Nymiria snatched her arm back when he reached for it, lips pursing. “You are rude, do you know that?”
“I do believe I’ve been informed a time or two.
” He reached for her again and she jumped back, only to stumble over something large behind her feet.
Teigh’s hand circled around the front of her dress, jerking her upright.
“I do not want to be here, Nymiria. I spent ten thousand years in this realm and being here for another moment instead of with my wife is just another moment closer to me losing my composure. I will not ask again. And if I must carry you, I shall. We leave now—”
“I want to go back!” She demanded, trying and failing to pull free from his grip. “I can’t stay here, either!”
Teigh’s grip on her slackened, the hardness of his jaw smoothing. “You think that I am keeping you here?”
Nymiria’s fear began to dissipate. Not entirely, but just enough so that her voice did not shake when she spoke again. “Why else would you be taking me to the Tomb of the Gods if not for me to take my rest there? Isn’t that where gods go?”
He stared at her for a moment, entirely unmoving and unblinking.
She glanced around the dark cavern nervously, nearly jumping out of her skin when he let out a billowing laugh that seemed to vibrate the curved walls.
“You silly girl. You have not even taken your oaths yet and you believe that you are entitled enough to take rest in the Tomb of the Gods?” Another loud laugh shook their surroundings, her face caught somewhere between fear and a meek grin.
“I’m taking you there to talk to my wife.
She wants to discuss your ascension to godhood.
” He paused this time, observing the look on her face.
“You are going back, Nymiria. The price has been paid. But before you go, there are promises that you must make—a prophecy you must fulfill.”
She sized him for a moment, nibbling at the inside of her cheek before shouldering past him, heading in the direction they were once going. “You should have been a tad bit nicer.”
Perhaps it was but a trick of the light, but Nymiria swore she saw him smiling as she walked past. It was a look of fondness that startled her, a gleam in his cold, dead eyes that was all too familiar. He found humor in her—an affectionate sort of humor.
The rest of their walk continued in silence.
Teigh only pointed in the direction in which he wished for her to go, allowing her to set the pace.
They wound through mazes of rocks and other items she could not see, but was sure that they were an array of bones and, perhaps, some weaponry that’d once belonged to the bodies that fell and decayed there.
She’d heard of people attempting to locate the Tomb of the Gods, but there were no tales of anyone achieving it.
It was said that only those who were meant to find it would—in the same magical way that their world operated, so did everything in this darkened place.
When they approached a large stone illuminated by large braziers flickering with an odd flame, she went still and made it a point to observe them.
They were not fires that glowed bright orange or yellow, they gave off no color at all.
These black and silver flames merely cast a strange moon-like glow upon the boulder, revealing runes and other various carvings, the largest being what looked to be a carving of a dragon’s eye—a bright blue gem shimmering in the center.
One simple brush of Teigh’s hand upon the stone and the boulder was sliding away from its place, the sound of stone grinding rumbling through the cavern. Nymiria’s hands tightened to fists at her sides, her eyes going wide when the tomb was finally revealed.
Directly in front of them, upon a wall made entirely of opal were a list of names in various languages she had never studied, but somehow understood perfectly as she looked upon them now. She took slow steps forward, the tips of her fingers colliding with the wall.
Names.
They were names.
Thousands and thousands of names.
“What is this?” She asked quietly.
Teigh appeared beside her, his large shoulders pulling back so that his spine was completely straight, his chin tilted upward in reverence.
“Gods. This is the list of all gods and godlings who once were, but have come to pass.” He said quietly.
“This is to honor them, so that their names will be remembered even when forgotten.”
Nymiria’s fingers brushed over a specific name that called to her, one she’d whispered with cracked and tear-soaked lips. One she’d cried out and prayed to for the majority of her life.
Greia Noviela Scouse.
She’d never thought of Greia as human. She’d always revered her as a deity.
But now, seeing her entire name, even her maiden name, carved into that wall, she wondered what the goddess had been like.
She wondered what her favorite food had been, if she preferred her mother over her father, or if she had parents at all.
She wondered if she’d had siblings and friends—if her life had been a tragedy or if she’d been blessed.
Nymiria glanced at Teigh, taking in the softened lines of his face—his eyes still focused on Greia’s name, a dazed look in his eyes.
She’d seen that look enough to know that he wasn’t in the present, that his mind had wandered to a time and place that likely no longer existed. “What was she like?” She asked, suddenly. “Before she became a goddess.”
“When she was a woman,” Teigh began. “She preferred summer. She hated tea and preferred wine over anything. She came from a wealthy family on a continent far from here, but she was no princess. Her father had been a merchant and her mother was of noble blood. She wanted for nothing, except freedom, as her family had demanded that she marry a distant cousin that she absolutely detested. She never could understand the idea of marrying family, she found it rather deplorable.”
“How did you meet her?” Nymiria found herself asking.
Teigh’s eyes shone bright with joy, though his face remained impassive.
“We shared the same tutor as children. Though I thought of her as rather adorable, Greia despised me. Academic rivals, I suppose you could say. Nevertheless, after my mother fell ill and my powers began to present themselves, my father sent me away. Greia and I hadn’t seen one another in years, but I recognized her the moment I saw her again.
She’d finally escaped her family and ran away to the north of where we were raised, started a life as a seamstress, of all things. ”
“Did she know that she was the next Anam?”
He nodded. “Yes. Foolishly enough, we tried keeping our identities a secret. But after a while, I began to notice how she’d disappear into the night. I followed her once and watched her go to one of her altars.”
Nymiria thought of this, imagining the moment in her mind—the shock he must have felt, the awe in his eyes when he saw her in her true form for the first time. She envisioned that it rivaled the look Aziel had given her when he’d first seen it. “Why did she die?”
The question rang though the sacred silence, Teigh’s features immediately hardening once again.
But instead of refusing to answer, he merely released a sigh and shook his head.
“I became a very greedy man, Nymiria. The Death of my enemies became far more important to me than anything. I was blinded with power and rage and vengeance and wanted nothing more than to destroy all the things that once tried destroying me. I was not aware of what going against The Toll would mean, but it cost me her life.”
“But you brought her back…”
“And in turn, was forced to extend my rule over the Otherworld. Ten thousand years is a very long time to be alive, little crow. Even the gods get tired. Greia, selfless as she is, refused to let me do it alone and bound her lifeforce to mine, meaning that she and I would live and die together, no matter what.”
Nymiria nodded slowly, her fingers brushing over another name she recognized, but that was struck through with a large gash. “I know this man.” She whispered. “Dagan Delanis. I met him—he tried to purchase me when I was a child.”
Teigh gruffed forward, squinting. “Ah, yes. He was a godling once. Not dead, but they put his name on the wall and struck it through as punishment. He would have been next in line, had he not committed such horrible atrocities. He is not able to redeem his title.” Nymiria cringed at the thought.
She’d done horrible things in her life, but was still able to claim godhood.
She couldn’t possibly imagine what one would have to do to be removed from that sort of position.
“The God of War has chosen another. She believes this godling shows more promise and strength, anyhow.”
With that, he placed his hand upon her shoulder and began steering her down the rest of the strangely-lit pathway. “Come, now. She’s getting tired.”