by Devin Graham
* * *
Duke Hort's body lay in a crimson pool, his blood staining the polished marble red and streaming over the sides of the balcony onto the floor below. Renette knelt over her father's body, weeping. Another body lay on the balcony as well, over which the mysterious lord knelt. A dagger pierced through this body's gut. At first the old man had tried to fight back, with the blade still through his gut. Now, he lay still.
Anna Thornrose watched from her crouched position near the top of the stairs. The guards had tried to make her leave, but she had had business here. The guards' corpses now lay hidden in some random closet she had found. She hated killing.
Anna had taken cover when she heard the gunshot, then had followed this mysterious lord to the balcony. By the time she had reached the top, the duke was already dead and the lord was slamming the dagger down into the old man.
She had not attacked the lord. She thought the old man could handle himself; after all, he had a god inside of him.
Currently, as Anna watched a mass of blackness, glimmering with flashes silver and white just beneath it like the constellations of the night sky, moving from the old man and into the lord, Anna's stomach lurched nauseatingly.
What is this man? she wondered, watching in horror. She had seen many things no other human being could have ever possibly seen, yet never had she witnessed a man—no, monster— able to consume a god.
As the last trail of blackness disappeared into the man's open mouth, he climbed to his feet and turned to Lady Renette, looking to the girl with solemn eyes. Anna's heart nearly tore from her chest once she saw the man's face for the first time. She recognized him.
This lord lacked the charming grin and bright eyes of the man she had encountered on the train, but she was sure it was the same man. William Baryon. The lord. The monster.
She found herself truly shaken by the revelation. And disappointed in herself for not being able to realize the man was a fraud in the beginning. He had seemed like a sincere man and, now—the way he looked down to Renette, visibly torn as to what he should do—, he seemed a caring one.
And she would have to kill him.
Sincere or not—caring or not—, this William man...this monster...was consuming, and possibly killing, gods. Although, how did one go about killing something that could devour the divine? Would a mundane weapon work, or would it require something else?
Anna looked down at the bloody throwing knives in her hands. It was not worth the risk, she decided. Still crouching low, she crept to the bottom of the steps and dashed soundlessly out of the abandoned ballroom, through the antechamber, and into the night. The grounds were already as empty as the ballroom.
She stood rooted in place, still reluctant to leave. Her eyes swept about the shadowy, silent grounds, then drifted up to the glittering blanket of the darkling sky.
The sky did not change as the life below it did. If another, somewhere else in the world where it was yet night were to look up at the sky, that person would see nearly the exact same image as Anna. The sky was a realm of constants. Each day, she could awake with the confidence that there would be the sun in the sky. And every night, she could count on the moon and stars to be hovering above, glowing silver—even if they were obscured by clouds or the moon was darkened my its new moon phase, she could know they were still there.
Below, however, on the ground, the world was a place riddled with variables. People changed, rules changed, the landscape changed. It was a world where every person aspired to newness, difference, and eccentricity. Change. Every change was a supposed advance; every change brought humanity closer to the possibility of being their own gods. Yet, in every change, chaos abounded. The human idea of change—or advancement—inspired envy, and envy eventually caused hate, and hate bred war, and war brought famine and death and everything destructive to the planet.
Mankind and their change was killing the planet. And they were all so blissfully unaware of the fact.
What if the ground was like the sky? Anna wondered. Surely the world would be a better place if everything was constant. We would not be able to feed the chaos, then.
But the ground, unfortunately, was not the sky. And soon, mankind would push the planet to the brink. Dalin Thornrose, Anna's father had spent his life combating the chaos, and the gods had given him a chance to see it end.
Bringing only a small number of the gods over, however, had required a heavy cost. Her father's legs...and arms...and head. Paralysis, throughout his entire body. And so his task had fallen to his only daughter.
Anna would help the gods bring the rest of their kind over. She would help bring order to chaos. Save the world. And the gods would heal her father.
Her eyes moved from the sky and looked about until she found her awaiting coach in the darkened drive. The horses blew snorts out through their nostrils and clomped their hooves impatiently upon the cobblestones below.
A man stood rigid at the door—or a god in the body of a man. The vessel would not survive long with the full glory of a god dwelling inside of him and his flesh would eventually begin to break down in rot, but in the short time the man was blessed by the presence of a god, the vessel would experience enhanced strength and boundless knowledge. And, though it may not have been his choice, this man, inside of which a god dwelt, would be contributing to the salvation of the world.
Anna made her way to the coach.
“You do not bear the girl with you,” the god spoke through the vessel.
“There was a...disturbance,” she said, looking the god in the eyes. “A man. He could...consume your kind...” She searched the god's human face for any indication that her words meant something to the god. His eyes, however, did not flicker with any emotion that she could see.
Why did the gods have to be so unreadable? No amount of profiling classes had prepared her for guessing the emotions of a being which seemed incapable of emotion.
Eventually, she shook her head in frustration and opened her coach door.
“Anyway, she is safe,” Anna said, climbing into the coach and seating herself. She went to shut her door, then hesitated, looking toward the mansion. Light streamed out from the open door. I hope.
“Did the man know?” the god asked.
“I can't be sure,” Anna said honestly. “I believe his only concern was the duke, however.”
Outside, the god grunted. Anna felt the coach shift as he climbed up to the coachman's seat. He was a god, but he played the part of coachman tonight. Regardless, it felt unbelievable that a god was acting as her coachman.
I left Renette with a monster, she thought to herself. She would kill the man and get her back. Soon. But not tonight.
She looked to the mansion one last time, before closing the door.
Before she did anything else, she needed to consult her father. There were things the gods were not telling her.
