by Ruby Dixon
I gasp. I can go home? All of this bullshit can be over and I can go back to my normal life? Back to a world with cars and phones and cheeseburgers and medicine? Where no one’s trying to kill me on a regular basis? My heart skips with joy for a brief moment—very, very brief. “You can snap your fingers and send me back?”
The Spidae inclines his head. “The veil between worlds was thin when Aron and the Aspects came through. I wove them into this web, and others were caught in the confusion. You were not the only one to cross over between worlds.” He gestures at the handful of threads crisscrossing between the two tangles. “Nor are you the only one that has found your way to the side of an Aspect. Even now, others from your world serve the gods.”
Nifty. I don’t care about them. I care about me. I still can’t help but feel that he’s giving me all this information as a test of some kind…like he’s dissecting my brain to try and read my thoughts. It feels like a trap, like if I say the wrong thing, I’m going to fuck myself over.
Or fuck Aron over.
Belatedly, I remember that Aron and Tadekha didn’t get along. I never asked if Aron and the Spidae got along. Shit. “Let’s just play a few scenarios out,” I say mildly, trying not to stare at my stretched-tight-about-to-snap thread. “What happens if I go back? To Earth?”
“I cut you free from this world.” His eyes seem more silver than ever.
I straighten, frowning. “I thought if I died, Aron died too? That I’m what’s anchoring him to the mortal plane?”
The Spidae nods again. “I cut you free…and we are down to two Aspects of the God of Storms, not three.”
My mouth goes dry. My heart hurts and all hope ends right in this moment. If I die—if my thread is snapped from this world’s weave—my Aron goes up in smoke. “He said that the Aron that’s left after all this…that he won’t be the same. The Aron I know won’t exist any longer.”
I look over at the Spidae, waiting for an answer.
He simply stares back.
Fuck.
Fuck fuck fuck.
If I go home, I screw over Aron. My Aron. I take him out of the running. I look at my thread again. At that fraying connection to Earth. “What…happens if I stay here?” I whisper. “For good?”
He gestures at the Earth web. “Your connection here will snap soon. You will then only be connected to this world. To Aos.”
Fuuuuuck. “So I’m stuck here even after he ascends again? Assuming we win?”
He blinks. “Are you?”
I grit my teeth. It’s clear he’s playing with me. I’m not dumb. There’s something he’s not telling me. Scratch that, there’s a lot he’s not telling me. Instead, I pace closer to the thread tangle, forcing myself to really, really look at it. What am I missing? What am I not seeing that he expects me to see? I lean in and stare hard at the thread tangle of myself and Aron. We’re woven into the web all right, but something about it still strikes me as odd. I want to touch my thread and pull on it, to see where it’s anchored, but I don’t dare. What if I end up lopping my own head off? “I’m missing something big here, aren’t I?”
“Are you?”
I make an exasperated noise. “You realize this is the most annoying game ever?”
He laughs, the sound hollow and rusty, as if he doesn’t do it often.
“You said you wanted to talk to me. To give me answers. Here I am.” I spread my arms wide. “Waiting for answers still.”
The Spidae tilts his head. “You are not asking the questions. You are waiting for me to pose them myself.”
“I thought it was pretty obvious.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Let’s say Aron wins and wipes out the other two Arons. That leaves just him as the big winner, right?” When he inclines his head, I continue. “So, then he’s still in this web, yes?”
“Yes.” His eyes begin to gleam again.
“So he’s stuck on the mortal plane until…the High Father snaps his fingers and calls him back?”
The Spidae simply arches an eyebrow at me.
Yeah, I’m guessing that doesn’t happen. I turn and stare at the threads again. Okay, something has to happen for Aron’s thread to be severed—
Oh my god. I whirl around. “Aron has to die?”
He inclines his head again in an elegant nod. “Now you understand.”
“But I thought the point of this was for Aron to learn a lesson? To beat the other Arons out of existence so he can return the big damn winner?”
“That is what he has been told, yes. He will learn no lesson if he has nothing to strive for.”
I stare at the Spidae, feeling hollow. It’s like a punch in the gut. Aron’s doomed. None of this matters…because we’re all going toward the same end anyhow. “So the Aron I know will cease to exist?”
“No.” He crosses his arms over his chest and glides toward the web. “The strand that survives the longest becomes the dominant thread. His memories will remain, but all the ills—lies, hedonism arrogance and apathy—will be purged from him. He will return to the Aether to take up his mantle and continue on, serving as he should…until we repeat the cycle all over again.”
“All over again?” I echo, the words a sick whisper in my throat. “This isn’t the first time it’s happened, then?”
“All gods become corrupted eventually,” he agrees, reaching a long-fingered hand out and running his fingertips lightly through the web, as if petting it. “Too much power warps the one that holds it. An immortal loses the sense of who he is without a mortal anchor to tie him to reality. It happens to the best of gods, no matter the intentions. Even the kindest will turn their faces inward, dazzled by their own reflections.” He pulls one gleaming string, fingers it thoughtfully, then returns it to its spot. “Which is why the High Father purges them every millennium.”
I blow out a breath.
There’s no saving Aron.
Maybe you are my heart, Faith.
I’m too shocked to even hurt. This is all just a big game to someone up above, so Aron and the others can learn lessons and be better gods or something. It’s awful. “So…Aron has to die. Does he know this?”
“Do you think he would be fighting so hard if he did? He thinks winning will save you.”
And that makes the ache spread. Oh god. “But there’s no winning, is there? I have to die in order for him to win.”
The Spidae nods again.
“So you’re asking me to pick between my life and his. If I go home, I’m okay. If I stay here, I die. It’s just a question of when.”
“Is that what I’m asking from you?” He studies me intently.
I fling my hands in the air and stalk away, frustrated. As I do, my nightgown sweeps the floor and I notice little bits of what look like fuzz or dust cling to my hem and stick to my feet. I lift one foot…and pluck a short string from it. Horrified, I look over at the Spidae. “What is this?”
He tilts his head in that weird way of his. “The god of family is not in the heavens. He is in the mortal realm.”
I throw the string away from me as if burned. “That’s a fucking baby?”
“Is it?”
“Oh my god, I hate you.” I press my fists to my forehead, because it’s throbbing again. “It’s a dead person, then?”
“The god of the dead is also split and wandering this realm.”
My temper explodes. “Well who the fuck thought this was a good idea?”
“It is not a good idea,” the Spidae admits, and for the first time, his voice is sad. “But those that become corrupted must remember who they serve. What better way to remind a god of what a mortal endures than to make him walk in their footsteps? Sleep in their beds? Eat their food?”
Except Aron doesn’t sleep, and he doesn’t eat. I do it all for him. I’m about to point this out when the Spidae reaches into the web, plucks out a strand, and flicks it to the floor.
“Why did you do that?” I ask.
He just blinks at me.
All right, I�
��m not entirely sure he’s sane. I pace back and forth in the room, trying to digest all of this.
Aron has to die, but he can only die after the other two Arons die.
I have to die, period.
I feel like collapsing. I want to put my hands to my head as if I can squeeze out the things I just learned. I want to go back to being ignorant, because it hurt so much less. A sob rises in my throat but never makes it past the knot that feels lodged there.
If I go home, I live, but Aron’s zapped out of existence. He won’t learn his lessons. He won’t be the Aron that goes “home” to the Aether. He’ll be part of the god that was “purged” and either Hedonism or Apathy will remain.
I feel dead inside. Defeated.
Resigned.
Even though I’m terrified, I won’t abandon Aron. I can’t. He’s kept me safe all this time—
He thinks winning will save you.
The knot in my throat grows harder. He’s not doing this entirely for himself, then? He’s doing it for me, too? Oh, Aron, you big arrogant lug. If you were here right now, I’d kiss the shit out of you.
I look over at the Spidae, who stares at the web in front of him, obviously seeing things that I don’t. His eyes have that strange, unfocused look, and every so often, he reaches up as if to adjust something, only to stop himself again.
Wait, he’s a god, isn’t he? If so, where’s his anchor? Maybe he’s crazier than I thought. Didn’t Aron say an anchor was the only way for the gods to learn? To relate to mortals?
Maybe the Spidae is wrong—maybe we do survive if we win and he’s just fucking with me.
I look over at him again with a narrowed gaze.
The Spidae’s watching me out of the corner of his eyes. Mmmhmm. That fucker thinks he’s smarter than me.
Even though he’s thrown a few bombshells, I still think there’s more to learn.
62
I cross my arms over my chest and saunter toward him. “So buddy, where’s your anchor?”
The question clearly takes him by surprise. I can practically see a “malfunction” sign flashing in that creepy mind of his. “My anchor?”
“Doesn’t everyone have an anchor? You said yourself that was one of the rules.”
“Yes. An anchor.” His gaze grows distant as he studies the web. “I suppose an anchor is necessary to make one connect with the mortal realm. I fully admit I am not entirely in charge of my own faculties. The web can become…distracting.” He caresses the strands again, like a lover. “An anchor must be offered freely, anyhow, and who would come here?”
He’s got a point. Even so…something doesn’t add up. “If you don’t have an anchor, how do you stay on the mortal plane?”
The Spidae looks over at me, a cunning smile on his face. “How do you know that is where we are?”
“Because I’m standing right here? Pretty mortal, last time I checked.”
His smile widens, and he glides toward the second web, the Earth web. “As I have said before, the veil between worlds is thin in places. I can exist here without an anchor, but I cannot leave this tower, ever.”
“What happens if you do?”
“Why does that matter?”
I shrug. “Just curious. Do you and your brothers die?”
“Brothers?”
Now I’m confused. “Am I misremembering my crash course in the gods of this world? I thought there were three fates, past, present and future?”
“Yes.”
“But…you’re not brothers?”
“Is Aron brothers with his Aspects?”
Huh. I didn’t think of it that way. “So you’re an Aspect.”
“Did I say that? Or are you assuming that?”
“You said it earlier!”
“Did I?” His smile grows wider.
I huff out a breath. “Jesus, you’re frustrating.”
“I said I would give you answers,” he tells me, moving toward my direction once more. “I did not say how many answers, or to what.”
Right. Answers. “You haven’t given me any answers. You realize that, right?”
“Haven’t I? You can go home, or you can stay here. Aron dies either way, it is just a matter of when. The choice is yours.”
I clench my fists. “You know that’s no choice.”
“Is it not?” He arches an elegant brow at me. “This particular Aspect has a one in three chance of ascending back to the Aether in the correct order…provided he does not murder you first.”
“Murder me?” Now this guy’s just making me angry. “Aron would never hurt me—”
“Not willingly, no. Have you forgotten how you arrived here, lovely Faith?”
And that shuts me up, because he’s right. I have totally forgotten. Aron drew on his power to kill the damn lake snake, and in doing so, he nearly destroyed me. He wasn’t trying to, he just lost his temper and pulled on our bond too much.
“He is a war god,” the Spidae says again, his voice cool. “He cares for you, but he would not be the first or last god to destroy his anchor by accident.”
I think of Aron and how tenderly he held me as I fuzzed in and out of consciousness. The nosebleed I had at the farm when he made the rain stop. The crashing headache and the feeling of being sucked dry as he floated above the boat, wielding magic in a show of power I’d never seen before. Aron wouldn’t hurt me willingly.
But he still hurt me.
I could still go home to Earth. Abandon him here and forget he ever existed. He’ll still live on in a certain way. Just…not that Aron. He’ll wear the same face but he won’t be the same man.
I hug my arms close to my chest, feeling very small and alone. “I don’t know what to do.”
“That I do not have an answer for, I am afraid.” For the first time, the Spidae sounds sympathetic.
“Which one are you? Past, present or future?” I look over at him, an idea occurring to me. “Can’t we go ask future for the answer?”
The Spidae’s mouth turns up in a smile. “He is busy with Aron, because I wished to speak to you.”
You mean you wished to fill my head with questions and doubts, I mentally retort, but keep the words to myself. The Spidae is pretending to be benevolent, but I haven’t forgotten for a moment that he’s a god. An unbalanced one with no anchor, no less. All of this could be a ploy to manipulate me into doing something that he wants me to do. “Do I have to decide if I’m staying here or going home? Right now?”
“You have time,” he says, inclining his head. “Aron will acquiesce to your request.”
“Request?” I frown in his direction. “What request?”
“Your request to stay for a while longer. To relax here.” He gestures at the tower. “You are tired and want time before you must confront his next Aspect. I have seen it in the web.”
“I thought you said future was busy with Aron?”
He only smiles mysteriously.
“You suck.”
“But I am never wrong.” The Spidae nods at me and gestures at the open portal that leads to the long, winding hall. “You will find Aron at the base of the stairs, in the large chamber there.”
I can’t thank him for that tidbit. I feel…hollow. Like I’ve been dragged over a wringer for the last half hour. He’s given me hope and destroyed it all over again. There’s nothing to be thankful for about that. I want to cry. I want to give up.
I want Aron to put his arms around me and stroke my hair until all the pain goes away, but even that won’t make me forget. I have to choose between myself or Aron. There can’t be an “us” ever. We won’t be allowed even the tiniest bit of happiness. Fate’s going to fuck us over.
Even so, it feels weird to just turn and leave silently. It feels like a retreat. I hesitate, then take a step toward the door. “Later.”
“If he asks,” the Spidae begins, and I bite back a snarl of irritation. Of course he has to have the last word. Of course. The Spidae continues, oblivious to my mood. “Tell Aron he needs
to go to Yshrem and meet the army there.”
“What?” I cast him an irritated look.
“That is where Aron will meet his destiny,” the Spidae says, then adds, “This particular Aspect of the Lord of Storms.”
My mouth is suddenly dry as a bone. Him meeting his destiny sounds…dire. Add in “army” and I’m terrified. “Is he going to make it through that battle?”
The Spidae just stares at me.
Right. I’m sorry I asked. I shake my head and turn away again.
“You forgot this.”
When I turn around, he’s right behind me, and I jump in surprise. The Spidae holds out the football-sized pod and gives me a wintry smile. When I take it, he moves away again.
“Think on what I have said,” he calls as I leave the room. “Think on the choices you make…because they are all yours to make, Faith.”
63
Once I’m in the hall, I rush down the slope at breakneck speed. I just want to get away.
Away from all of this.
Away from everything I’ve been told in the last few minutes.
The Spidae and his non-answers have wrecked me. Fucking destroyed me. I stumble over my skirts, skidding to my knees, and the sticky webs that cover everything stop me from tumbling all the way to the bottom of the tower. I skid a few feet and then collapse against the wall, crying like a baby. I curl up, hugging my knees to my chest and sobbing.
Everything is so fucked right now.
I can screw over Aron and hate myself for the rest of my life if I return to Earth. It’s a selfish choice, and even if I wanted to make it, I wouldn’t. I want to save Aron, but I have to think of everyone. Poor Vitar is dead. What about Yulenna, Markos, Solat and Kerren? Will they die if I choose to stay? Am I picking their deaths for them, too?
And Aron—my Aron—has to ascend for things to be “fixed.” That means I have to die.
I don’t want to die. A fresh sob escapes me, and I grind my fists against my eyes. Why have I fought so hard for the last month to go home, to help Aron win, only to find out that none of it matters? If I go home, I destroy Aron.
