Chapter 41
Envy
Nothing but dead silence. They might as well be submerged in an abyss, as if the world has drowned.
As a body shuffles in his arms, Envy stares down at the face peeking from behind a curtain of gray hair. Sorrow blinks, her bottomless pupils reflecting his own. When he strokes her cheek, she nuzzles into him, her breath stirring against the pulse in his throat.
The wind brushes through stalks of grass. Blood and water drench the fabric of his trousers.
Envy lifts his head. Sorrow follows suit, as does the crew. Cavities glazed in stardust pothole the summit, white flames slapping the air. Crimson puddles and charred corpses lay strewn amid the wasteland.
The herons return, cautiously hovering above the stargazer. The great monument, which stands untouched beneath the hemisphere.
Footfalls approach. Detangling themselves, the crew breaks away to inspect the scene fully, their circle the focal point of every rapt gaze on this cliff, including the five injured rulers who stand nearby.
Filing along the water’s edge, a bleeding crowd of deities marvel at the scene: a small pack of rebels who held tight under a bombing of stars.
Instead of stoic or regal, the monarchs blink in a daze. Slowly, the hint of a smile draws across the iridescent goddess’s mouth, her torn gown flapping in the wind like a demolished solar system.
Envy’s gaze travels from sovereigns, to mentors, to archers. The ones who have survived, as well as those who’ve fallen, their lifeless forms scattered throughout the wreckage. Everyone stares, stricken and awed by the aftermath, though the latter is a strange reaction for what just happened.
Or perhaps it isn’t.
If two deities choose love over lust, they’ll become a force of influence, along with those closest to them.
Envy glimpses Sorrow’s countenance, his heart cinching. He can only describe this sensation as endless, without shapes or borders. It’s as calm as the sea, yet as fierce as rushing rapids.
A force of influence. A fucking celestial riddle.
After his theft of her arrow, it shouldn’t be possible. Yet in Sorrow’s glowing features, the opposite becomes true. Beneath this violent sky, they chose love over lust, enacting a legend that canceled out any other clauses or rules, a possibility they never thought to consider.
That’s not all. Envy studies his friends.
Love’s mischievous nature. Andrew’s tenaciousness and creativity.
The moral strength of Anger, whose olive complexion has blanched from the wound soaking Envy’s shirt. The stubborn bastard had risked his blood-clotted gash, just to make it out here.
The unapologetic enthusiasm of Merry, with her theatrical spirit and dazzling eyes.
The curious nature of Wonder. The diabolical intellect and unhinged devotion of Malice.
Strung together like this, the experience is forged of every emotion Envy has ever known. Because this is what it means to belong to others.
We’re all family.
That’s what Merry had said. That’s what they are.
They’re messy. They didn’t ask to be thrown together, and they’ve sometimes made the worst of it, but they’ve usually made the best of it.
They’ve done brutal things to each other.
They’ve done spectacular things to each other.
They’ve behaved conditionally and unconditionally.
They’re not perfect, but they’re still here, protecting one another.
That’s love.
At the heart of The Dark Fates, this is love in its many facets. The bond of friendship, family, and passion. Perhaps it’s the final key, with Envy and Sorrow choosing love over lust, grabbing one another under a deadly sky rather than staying apart.
Their destiny. Their decision.
Perhaps it kindled an evolution, with their friends joining in. Each of them, foolish and selfish and vicious. Each of them, flawed by their mistakes. Each of them, empowered by their victories. Each of them, touched, torn, tempted, and transcended.
All of them, no better or worse than humans. All of them, tied to mortality.
This is what they had to do. Unite beneath the falling stars, brave the chaos as one, proving that love is power. It’s magic unto itself, which moves realms and conquers wars.
That’s survival.
And maybe this is what it takes to inspire, to understand there is no hierarchy between deities and humans. Creating an equilibrium isn’t about redefining these things, nor about finding a middle ground between separate entities.
There is no middle ground. They’re not separate at all.
To strike a balance is to understand that fate and free will are one power. Recognizing and embracing this fact is the key.
Disarmed, the rulers wade through the lake, their gowns and cloaks trailing moonlit puddles behind them. Nodding with Envy’s group, who spread out to admit them into the circle, the ring broadens. All the while, Envy keeps Sorrow close, strapping his arms around her midriff.
For some reason, the iridescent goddess regards Sorrow with a satisfied twinkle.
“Convinced yet?” Sorrow asks.
The female inclines her head. “I think we’re about to be.”
***
The constellations return to the sky, having spoken their truth.
It’s time for their subjects to do the same.
Every soul bears the hardship of gathering the fallen and setting the bodies within beams of starlight, where the souls fade peacefully.
Some fighters weep for their lost kin, others can’t muster a sound.
Many deities take it in stride, while some don’t.
After an hour of mournful silence, the throng retires for a period of recovery and reflection. Whatever needs to be said deserves time.
Plus, Anger can barely stand any longer.
Envy and Sorrow trade a glance. After the deadly night they’ve had, he wants nothing more than to staple the goddess to his side for eternity, on the off-chance residual tensions remain among The Dark Gods.
However, ordering Sorrow never to leave his sight again will only backfire.
If she needs her space, that’s her choice.
It’s what they fought for, after all. And while she’ll never be safe enough for his liking, this female also isn’t helpless.
After Sorrow flies off with her Guide on one of the herons, Envy engages in a stream of farewells.
His friends return to the Astral Sea, he reunites with Siren, then embarks on his own trip home, where he collapses in bed.
What follows is the longest sleep in his life, fleeting moments of wakefulness filled with thoughts of a jaded mouth sipping currant nectar.
When their people have refreshed themselves, they return to the site of combat and the place where deities always come into being.
They congregate around the stargazer, crowding the telescope’s dais.
Envy has donned charcoal trousers, a loose ivory shirt, and an ankle-length coat.
Though having an impeccable wardrobe fails to restore his confidence, his heart hammering at the prospect of seeing Sorrow.
Time crawls by slower than a slug. Any second, and Envy will start pacing like a beast, which shall wrinkle his ensemble.
The instant she appears on the threshold, their eyes lock. Envy’s flesh does something strange. It mirrors the familiar stirrings of heat, pressure building, blood rushing to the surface. By now, Andrew, Anger, and Malice have confirmed this theory.
Likewise, a flush consumes Sorrow's complexion. Their feet carry them across the distance until they meet on the platform, where he struggles to contain himself. A hundred juvenile endearments sit on his tongue, none of them worthy.
Anyway, it’s not the right time to make a fool of himself. They have other matters to address.
The Court summons every child, since youths weren’t allowed to participate in the fighting.
This includes that nameless moppet with the dark curls, who materializes beside Siren and Echo.
The former’s cramped face exhibits frustration, but the peeved expression dwindles when he spots Envy and Sorrow.
Envy nods. By comparison, Sorrow and the moppet wave at one another.
Envy finds his voice and leans over to murmur, “You’ve gained an admirer.”
“What can I say?” Sorrow whispers back while staring at the crowd. “Faith and I have the same taste in makeup.”
“His name is Faith?” Envy feigns insult. “I’m jealous. He told you but not me?”
Perhaps it’s too soon for teasing. His attempt falls flat, because Sorrow gives a noncommittal shrug.
Although she stands beside him, their crew aligning with The Court, a slow drip of doubt leaks in.
What happened on the battleground might have been temporary.
This period of rest might have given her second thoughts.
And where the fuck do they go from here?
Siren catches his eye and gives him a dry look, warning Envy not to get ahead of himself or jump to conclusions. One thing at a time.
Anger’s gash is slower than usual to heal, but the wound has closed. Let no one call the obstinate god feeble. The opportunity for rest has done him well, restoring his complexion and replenishing his energy to attend this meeting. He shuffles forward, bolstered by Merry and Malice.
The iridescent goddess addresses the congregation. To this day, it astounds Envy that none of their subjects can rightly pronounce the five sovereigns’ names, so ancient are their chosen monikers. They are simply identified as The Court.
“In the lifetime of an immortal,” the ruler begins, “this quarrel between celestials and rebels has been ephemeral. Yet for many of us, it feels as though it has lasted an age.” She spreads her arms. “Perhaps it has. This conflict might have ignited long ago, since our very inception. It is a culmination of our destinies, as well as our choices. Yet finally, all sides have spoken, as have The Stars.”
Anger straightens as best as he can. “This is the route we needed to take, born of circumstance and action.”
“Fate and free will are matched,” Love says. “Neither can exist without the other.”