What could have taken him? Why?! Why hadn’t she woken? Heard him crying out for help?
Had she been so fast asleep?
Had Enyo woken and chosen not to help?
Had some other mage come along and— and overcome Etienne? It felt unlikely. She chewed on the inside of her cheek so vigorously it seemed as if she’d bite right through it.
⚄
Eventually, Tristan gave up grumbling about how rude it was to wake people by screaming when there was obviously no immediate danger. Then, he re-emerged from his tent. This time, fully clothed.
Alphonse paced the clearing like a caged thing, anxiety twisting her features.
It didn’t take long for Tristan to figure out why, though he still didn’t say anything right away.
It wouldn’t do to look too ecstatic.
When he thought he could speak without laughing, the rogue strolled over to Alphonse, interrupting her along the path she was trying to trod into the packed dirt. “So, the boy finally got fed up with it all and left.” His voice was casual. At least it didn’t sound gloating.
Alphonse spun to look at Tristan, amber eyes flashing something like molten gold…
Enyo’s anger, surfacing through mortal veins. How thin the barrier had grown already.
But it was gone in an instant, and Alphonse shook her head. “He’d never leave me. We are best friends. We’re practically brother and sister. He… he wouldn’t leave me alone with—” With them. With Tristan. With Enyo…
Tristan drew his eyebrows together in mock concern. “Of course, you’re right. Etienne would never do that to you. You mean too much to him.”
He stepped away from her, peering at the ground where Etienne’s tent had been staked the previous night.
“Only, I don’t see any signs of a struggle, do you?” He paced around the area, one hand supporting his chin. “And the boy was no fighter, but surely he could have cried out or done a bit of magic to alert us.”
He gave up looking and wandered back to Alphonse, keeping his expression sorrowful.
This was almost too easy.
“Besides, what would be the purpose of just kidnapping one of us? Of taking only shelter and food enough for one person?” He looked off into the distance where Delyth had gone. “I mean, if I were going to steal, I wouldn’t be so careful about it. I’d just take it all.”
❀
The healer blanched. Tristan… did have a point.
She looked back to where Etienne had set up his tent. It looked as if it had never been there. As if he took the time to fold it up and pack it away, rather than just dragging it off like a wild animal or an attacker might.
“But,” she stuttered, her mind grasping. She was sinking into to some dark, wet pit with slick walls that offered no grip.
Etienne would not leave her. Not when they were so close to the temple. Not when Enyo was getting so strong. He wouldn’t leave her to Enyo! He wouldn’t doom her to a life like this. He was the only one who knew how to bind Enyo!
He wouldn’t.
But… he was gone. Where had he gone? Why? Was he going ahead to—to scout out the temple?
“Maybe he got a head start?”
Tristen just looked at Alphonse. “If you say so, mouse.” He didn’t laugh, but his tone made it clear that he didn’t believe it.
Several long, slow minutes passed before Delyth returned, this time from the opposite side of the camp. Initially, Alphonse had stepped towards Delyth, relieved and desperate to hear the news. To know where Etienne had gone… But with the pained look the warrior was giving her, Alphonse stumbled to a halt.
“Alphonse.” The warrior was breathing hard, as though she’d gone at great speed. “Alphonse, I didn’t see him.”
Delyth’s face was drawn, her skin pale. “I’m so sorry, dear one, but the roads are perfectly smooth in either direction, as if…”
She couldn’t finish, but Tristan could. “As if by magic?”
“Smooth? What do you mean? Why would they be smooth?” Did she mean there were no tracks? Hiding which way he went?
Why would he hide his route?! Unless he was going to the temple to set up?
Yes. Yes, surely, that was it. But…
“Why?” Why didn’t he tell her he was going? Why had he snuck off in the dead of night? Alphonse grabbed both sides of her head, trying to think. Trying to reason the way Etienne would. His sharp, meticulous mind.
He would leave to…
Well.
“Why would he leave?” she asked aloud, not expecting an answer. He’d leave because the project was over. The spell was cast. The transfiguration complete. He only lost interest in something once he had met his goal. Which meant...Which meant.
“He’s done with me?”
“It looks that way, doesn’t it?”
Delyth glared at Tristan. “We don’t know that.” She stretched her hand out towards Alphonse, took a step closer.
He had given up. He had left her to Enyo. He had fled without so much as a goodbye—in the dead of night like some thief. He knew Delyth was loyal to her temple. He knew Tristan was deeply interested in seeing Enyo restored.
He knew his magic had been her only hope of survival.
And yet he was gone.
He had abandoned the spell because it was already ruined. Already lost. He saw no point in trying to repair the permanently broken.
“He left,” Alphonse repeated blankly. There was an echo of silence in her mind as the word bounced around. Alone.
Alone.
“I—I’m… alone.”
Not alone. Never alone, Enyo’s wicked voice crooned. Alphonse sagged where she stood. The Goddess was right. Never again would Alphonse be alone with her thoughts, her feelings, her fears.
Enyo would be there forever.
Because Enyo was not going to be banished or bound or cast out.
Enyo was going to have her body, and Etienne had left her to that fate.
Never alone.
Never Alphonse.
Never again.
༄
Delyth rushed forward to support Alphonse, where she stood, limp and dragging. All thoughts of Tristan had fled her mind. She didn’t care that he was there.
“You have me, Alphonse.” Her voice broke jagged on the edges.
How many times did she have to say it? What would she have to do to get Alphonse to believe it?
“You aren’t alone.” She dragged Alphonse’s face up to meet hers. “And I know this hurts; I know you feel abandoned. But I’m still here. I won’t leave you.”
And she wouldn’t.
Not for anything.
Though, if she ever saw Etienne again, she would tear him apart before dragging him back to Alphonse.
Amber eyes blinked up at Delyth, surprisingly dry. No tears. Some wounds cut so deep there was no point in crying. There was nothing behind the long-lashed gaze. Just emptiness. “He didn’t say goodbye…”
Delyth didn’t have an answer to that. She just pulled Alphonse into her arms, wings half opened as though she could fly away from this as easily as she had the battlefield.
⚄
Tristan turned away from the pathetic scene, his lip curling. He had never had the patience for the fall out after a trick had been played.
But the trick had certainly been worth it.
Nothing stood in his way any longer. The boy was gone. Delyth was a follower from one of Enyo’s temples. Alphonse seemed to have entirely given up hope.
With his back to the two women, Tristen smiled, the expression thin and wicked.
Enyo was going to be so pleased.
Chapter XXV
Sixth Moon of the Year 690: Rhosan
The goatskin drums had been pounding for two days now. Distant and desperate thrumming, Enyo had long since drowned out their primal rhythms, accepting them as her own heartbeat. An urgent and unrelenting pulse of blood within her body. Within her mind.
Summer Solstice was always a
time of celebration and sacrifices. When the drums stopped, they would select their next ‘vassal’ to sate the Gods and anoint the fields.
Until then, the humans would dance in chaotic circles around the massive bonfires, wine would flow freely, and all would gorge on the last fruits of the spring. Summer was here, and there was no place for spring gaiety.
Enyo bit into the bruised meat of a plum, relishing in the sensation of her teeth breaking through the thin membrane and into the overly sweet flesh. Juices ran down her chin and dripped onto her chest.
Satisfaction coated her tongue as she tossed the pit away from the clearing, watching the gathered Gods, humans, and other creatures milling about drunkenly. Some rutted on the outskirts of the clearing, within easy view of all. Others laughed and talked. Some wept silently and watched the flames.
Standing from her position on the pile of pelts she used as a throne of sorts, Enyo traipsed through the collection of bodies, considering each bright face turned her way.
As the Solstice gathering was on her lands, her territory, she would have the honor of selecting the sacrifice this year. Something she looked forward to very much.
Striding past Maoz and his human lover, a beautiful creature with rippling black hair and a full womb, Enyo rolled her eyes.
Maoz had dozens of human lovers, male and female alike. Over the years, he had spawned so many half breed offspring, it was no surprise that females were now seeking him out deliberately. His children were strong, long-lived, and beautiful.
The rutting Hunter. He was effectively a stag— One whiff of a female in heat, and he was on her. Even females who had been barren before were able to conceive with him.
Enyo had tried it once, with Maoz. They had caused a raging forest fire. It had been fun, but she preferred more interesting partnerships than just fucking in the woods.
Coming to the edge of the gathering, and to the tables holding the massive kegs of wine, Enyo paused. The drums were beating faster.
The time was coming soon.
“Va'al ?” She called, not bothering to look around. He’d appear if he wished to do so. That crafty one was always lurking about, always eavesdropping.
⚀
Va'al watched the festivities from the shadows. The incessant drums had begun to grate at his nerves; the pleasures of the clearing had lost their draw. He was utterly and frustratingly bored with gaiety.
It was time for a bit of conflict.
The humans and the Gods alike were far too happy. Even the sorrow of the weepers was mixed with awe. The Hunter had his rutting. Enyo had her sacrifice. Kirit hadn’t even bothered to come, and the Cursed Realms knew Ruyaa never concerned herself with anything so earthly.
It was indeed time for a bit of something different, but that left Va'al with an entirely different conundrum.
What sort of conflict did he want tonight?
Battle was always exciting, but at the moment, it seemed as though a lover’s quarrel might be easier to manage. Even among the humans gathered in this small clearing, he could taste jealousy weaving amid thoughts of food and sex. Animals, the lot of them, but oh so entertaining.
Perhaps, with a bit of work, he could convince some lustful wife into a passion, some jealous husband into a murderous rage. There was only the task of choosing who to play with; he had just set about it when a word from Enyo interrupted his thoughts.
The Goddess of nature was always a good time, Va'al supposed. She could be absolutely feral, devoid of the niceties that plagued Esha and Iluka. He shrugged. The lovers could wait.
“Enyo,” Va'al purred as he stepped out of the shadows and took a place at her side. “Stunning as ever. What did you need your poor friend Va'al for this wild night?”
❂
Enyo looked Va'al over carefully. He was the most ‘mortal’ looking of them all, with tanned dark skin and silky black hair, chocolate brown eyes that sparkled with mischief, and a long nose with a hook on the end. Yet he was too handsome. Too delicious to be truly human. After all, looks could be deceiving. He was the closest thing to a friend for Enyo. They regularly frolicked hand in hand, creating mischief and mayhem wherever they went.
Of course, on the rare occasion—every fifty years or so—they got into a fight. Well… not many mortals had been left standing to tell tales.
“It occurred to me that this Solstice could be even wilder…” Her gaze flickered towards Maoz, his horns visible even through the crowds. Stoic and single-minded, the Hunter was difficult to annoy, to rile up.
But when he did, the entire forest felt it.
Her lips parted in a cunning smile, eyes bright as they came back to Va'al. “I see your annoying lover isn’t here… Perhaps you’d like to choose another?” Her meaning was clear. Seduce Moaz’s human, enrage the beast.
Have some fun.
⚀
Va'al followed Enyo’s gaze, his eyebrows lifting. Maoz wove through the crowd with his little lover trailing behind. As if he thought her some great trophy rather than just another mortal, easy to seduce.
Moaz was ever so protective of his little mortal propagators.
He’d been thinking too small.
Va'al smiled in appreciation at the nature Goddess. “Enyo, you do have the most delightful ideas. I was feeling rather like some mortal flesh now that I think of it.”
The girl would be no issue. The swell of her belly already proved that she had a weakness for divine lovers.
And really, what mortal didn’t?
Va'al’s face creased in a malicious grin. “Will you do me the honor of distracting our beastly friend?”
❂
“Must I do everything?” She complained, turning on her heel to weave through the crowds. Quickly Enyo found herself before Maoz, who was gulping down a massive tankard of wine.
“Maoz,” she greeted. He turned yellow eyes on her and nodded. Such a poet, that Hunter God.
Enyo suppressed an exasperated sigh. He really wasn’t going to make this easy. Her gaze flickered over to his pregnant human. He held her tightly by the wrist. Possessive, not ‘loving,’ though she doubted the human understood.
“I was wondering if you had any suggestions for today’s sacrifice. I see you brought a human of your own…” He bristled and shoved the female behind himself, creating a shield of flesh between Enyo and his lover.
As if that’d stop her if she really wanted the woman. Pregnant females had such rich blood too…
“I do not,” he replied.
How did he get so many females, when he could barely string three words together?!
“None at all? What about a wildman from the mountain tribes? Or one of the children born in the whispering meadows? I do love how they cry… Their tears are like starlight, are they not?”
⚀
Va'al slipped in beside Moaz’s mortal lover just as he pushed her behind him. Always so rough, Moaz. The brute.
By contrast, Va'al laid his open palm gently against her shoulder, resting a finger across his lips to indicate silence. He leaned in close, his mouth beside her ear. “Come, sweet one. I have a gift for you.” He smiled warmly and beckoned to her even as he stepped back.
The girl seemed mesmerized, possibly because of the wild nature of the festival. Her eyes followed Va'al, though, still she hesitated, glancing back at Moaz speaking to Enyo.
“Look at how easily he forgets about you,” Va'al crooned. “Already, he fawns over the nature Goddess.”
The girl looked back, forlorn. Silly woman. Maoz would leave as soon as the halfbreed was born anyway.
“Come, lovely.” Va'al kept up his sing-song whisper, careful to keep it away from the Hunter’s ears. “I have something for you, something only you deserve.”
Gradually, she stepped towards him, her mind echoing with the thoughts Va'al put there. She was special. Moaz did not deserve her. She wanted Va'al and his gifts.
They wended away from the party and into the shadows.
Chapter XXVI
Eighth Moon, Waxing Crescent: Thloegr
The first night away from the others, Etienne was plagued with beautiful dreams. They weren’t especially grand; no gold or silver or stunning mountain vistas. He did not visit a palace or fall in love.
Instead, Etienne dreamed of his own past.
He fell asleep to quiet images of studying with Alphonse or talking in the Moxous garden or just looking up from a dusty tome to find a cup of tea steaming quietly at his elbow.
And in the morning, he awoke alone.
The entire first day heading down the mountain, Etienne’s own arguments had repeated themselves in his head. He was physically hot from anger, his skin flushed despite the cold. The farther he went, the less articulate his internal monologue became until he was repeating the same phrase again and again.
Alphonse is dead. Alphonse is dead. Alphonse is dead…
Now, with the dawn, he had cooled. There seemed to be more air away from the others. He could breathe. He could think.
And he almost wished that he could go back to the blind heat of the day before.
There was a blade poised just above his heart so that with every bulging pump, the muscle kissed the razor edge. He named the knife Guilt and walked rather than touch it, fearing the accountability behind the steel.
Alphonse was dead. There was nothing he could do.
Even if it was his fault.
Still, Etienne had never felt more a coward. His back was turned to the danger in Thlonandras, to the likelihood of Enyo being unleashed on an unsuspecting world.
To the final destruction of his oldest friend.
While he, the one who had started this by summoning Enyo in the first place, could just turn away. Save himself. The others were lost anyway.
He crossed his arms over his chest—more for comfort than for anything else. He hardly felt the cold. No amount of reasoning would stay his heart, would keep it from spilling its own blood on the blade he’d placed above it. Maybe with time, it would form a callus, grow thick and hard beneath the cutting edge, but Etienne thought it just as likely that it would bleed forever, coating his lungs and ribs and tissue and bone in the red that belonged to veins.
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