Chapter 41 #2
“Neither is faultless,” Merry campaigns, lacing her free hand with Love’s.
“Both are flawed,” Andrew adds, claiming Love’s other hand.
“But we’re stronger for it,” Wonder professes.
One by one, eight rebels clasp palms with five rulers.
“At last, we have reached the brink of renewal,” the iridescent ruler calls out. “To see a disparate band of immortals prove that love not only exists among our people, as it does among humans, but that it empowers us. Then we must conclude deities and mortals are equal.”
“We have faults and strengths, sentiments and resilience,” Sorrow ventures. “And we’re still standing.”
“And still pretty,” Envy says with a half-smirk, inciting somber mirth from the crowd. “Humanity will endure without our intervention.”
“A mortal man once taught me not to underestimate his kind,” Love confides, smiling at Andrew. “If left to its own devices, the human realm won’t fall apart any less than ours will. If we are equal, we forfeit the magic of our bows, the magic of control, in favor of a new pantheon.”
“One that inspires instead of controls,” Anger finishes.
More talking, more speeches, more debates.
What will this new mythology be? If fate and free will are not separate but the same, and if embracing that fact is the key to a balance, how must deities treat their powers?
How do they wield human emotions without actually controlling humans?
Ultimately, how will that preserve the life cycle of both humanity and The Dark Fates?
Envy recalls one of his talks with Sorrow in the cavern.
To begin, I’d have to declare what it means to be a deity in the first place.
Maybe it’s a blessing. The clincher is, we’ve misinterpreted what that blessing entails. It could be about embodying magic instead of forcing it on others. Maybe we need to wield that blessing from a different angle.
Inspired by those words, Envy makes a suggestion. “I know one goddess with the answer.”
Sorrow blinks as he turns his attention on her, then the same memory comes rushing back, a small grin spreading across her lips. “A blessing.”
The same magic from another angle. A new way to bond with humanity instead of commanding it. Heads bank left and right, intrigued by the notion.
Merry hops in place. “Gracious, how divine. A dedication.”
“A ritual,” Anger interprets.
Murmurs amplify as deities entertain the possibilities. They were never given a choice of which root emotions to represent. If they still can’t determine which to wield—for that can’t be altered, even by The Stars—deities can at least decide how to wield them.
Instead of forcing emotions into mortals, what if each strike of an arrow serves as a blessing? A benediction that grants humans the ability to feel those emotions, to embrace the malevolent ones and endure the harsh ones.
Just a blessing. How every mortal chooses to absorb and act on their emotions throughout life… well, it’s up to the individual.
As such, deities must retrain their bows. For ages, they’ve learned the varying intensities of a single strike. If immortals can imbue a minimal amount into their archery, it will be so faint as to yield a blessing rather than a command.
They’ll require more practice to master this without fail. But that’s fine. None of them are going anywhere.
The attendants weave their fingers together and use the stargazer to beseech the celestials. Together, they ask for approval. In response, the constellations shimmer and toll like bells.
Like an old tale. Like a myth.
Afterward, the room fills with a renewed sense of honor. There’s much to consider, even more to learn. But it’s a start.
The throng disperses, gods and goddesses departing to their homes throughout The Dark Fates and the mortal realm. The Court and Envy’s crew stay behind to address another decision. This new beginning calls for an officiation, in the form of a vow.
As to which kind, they debate. Everybody participates, contributing possibilities.
Actually, not everybody. A crucial detail occurs to the assembly. Namely that Malice has been quiet this entire time.
The group casts the demon god a skeptical glance. To which, he runs his thumb across his lower lip. Uh-oh.
Envy sighs. “I know my face is distracting, but would you care to focus and share the inner workings of your brain with the rest of this clan?”
Malice lifts a taloned finger. “On one condition—what?” he asks when everyone groans. “So suspiciously suspicious. I haven’t said anything yet. What the fuck do you take me for? A devil?”
“Malice needs paper,” Wonder translates, reading her soulmate’s expression. “He’s wearing his studious face.”
“You know me well, Wildflower.”
“Then say it, Demon.”
“For a start, anyone have a spare quill and a blank sheet of paper?”
It would be effortless to conjure. However, Andrew presents the notebook and pen he’d brought from the mortal realm. Carefully, he rips out the pages filled with his handwriting, tearing them from the spine’s crease and then handing over the binder. “Will these do?”
Malice accepts the notebook. “You sure?”
“You carried it for me most of the time. I owe you.”
“I like being owed things.” The demon angles his wicked features toward Wonder. “Sooooo how many stars exist in the sky? How many legends came from them? And how many were stored in The Archives?”
She contemplates. “That number doesn’t exist, my love.”
“That makes for a shitload of potential tales. Think there’s any wiggle room left?”
“To what end?” the iridescent ruler inquires.
“Don’t leave out the good parts,” Envy requests.
A grin slides across Malice’s face. “I’ve got an idea.”
***
No one rests until they have a draft. Malice and Wonder are experts in this area, so they oversee the collaboration and appoint Andrew as their partner, the trio taking turns transcribing the dictation.
Finished, they read it aloud. The abstract is rough, and it will take time to modify the contents, but that’s one luxury they have in abundance. When they’re done, it’s going to be the longest mythical word count ever penned.
Only one choice remains. Where to store this book?
Malice jabs his thumb at Wonder. “Ask my favorite goddess. She might have a solution.”
Wonder taps the pen against her mouth, concealing a grin. “You might be right.”
After consenting to her proposition, The Court retires to the Palace of Starlight.
Meanwhile, eight figures remain, tasked with safeguarding the notebook.
They say nothing more tonight, bidding one another farewell.
They’ll have a job ahead of them revising the draft, then another job restoring a certain former landmark.
Wonder and Malice can’t wait for that. Envy’s pretty certain they’ll prove to be strict generals.
Out on the parapet, Love and Andrew mount a heron and soar to her house. The same goes for Anger and Merry.
Sorrow hesitates beside Envy, one of her boot heels grinding into the floor. “So, um. Enjoy sailing to the enclave.”
“What makes you think I’m not going to my vacation home?” Envy quips.
“Because I’ve spent three days with you. I know your tastes.”
His gaze clings to hers. “That, you do.”
Silence stretches between them, but for the nearby lapping of water.
Eventually, Sorrow clears her throat. “Well, then. Goodnight.”
Envy hooks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sweet dreams.”
She walks backward while staring at him, then hitches a ride with one of the winged creatures. Envy watches her shrink inside a full moon. Doubtless, she’ll enjoy returning to her house on stilts and sleeping in fleece blankets.
Shoving his hands into his pockets, Envy heads toward the fortress’s threshold, then stops. A runty silhouette perches on the lowermost rampart, the figure’s limbs swinging over the side. Sorrow wouldn’t have gone so quickly if she’d known he was here.
Malice and Wonder are about to depart when Envy asks if he can keep the book for a while. After Malice threatens to castrate Envy if anything happens to the tome, the couple leaves.
When they’ve vanished on a lunar heron, Envy changes direction and settles next to the child called Faith, who pouts at the moonlit cliff range. His doleful expression contrasts with the buoyant gloss of his eyelids. Also, he doesn’t react to Envy’s presence.
Together, they regard the panorama.
“What has you in such a pissy mood?” Envy jokes, elbowing the moppet.
“I’m a good fighter,” Faith mumbles.
Ah. That’s what’s bothering him. He’s crestfallen about being left out of the carnage. If Sorrow were here, she’d knock some sense into this runt.
“And whose side would you have chosen?” Envy asks.
“Neither,” the mini god replies. “I would have fought to stop all of you.”
“I know someone who’d agree with that course of action. On that note, I like to think rebuilding is a better use of time than bloodshed. Interested in helping us resurrect The Hollow Chamber?”
It had been Wonder’s idea to store the book in The Archives, the great library of their realm. It’s a proper location to place this brand-new legend of their own making.
Meanwhile, the library’s restricted section currently lies in ruin, following that conflict between Wonder, Malice, and their rulers. With peace on the horizon, they’ve agreed to rebuild The Hollow Chamber and its forbidden vault.
“I’ll tell you what.” Envy produces the tome and offers it to Faith. “Mind taking a look at this for us? We could use your feedback.”
The child accepts the book and swings his gaze toward Envy. “Why me?”
“Because I like your name more than mine.” Ruffling the god’s hair, Envy stands and smooths out his ankle-length coat. “Though, I still dress better.”
Faith compresses his lips, withholding a snicker. “Then go impress someone who actually gives a shit.” To illustrate, he flits his gaze toward the sky, to where Sorrow had disappeared.
Point taken. Envy throws back his head and laughs.