“Correct.”
Lord Demos ground his teeth and grabbed his wife. “Come on, get in there.”
“But I…”
“Question number four: The Dragon Empress wears a rose on which side of her head?”
Lady Demos thrust up her hand. “Uh…the left, NO! The right side.”
Piers raised an eyebrow. “Is that your final answer?”
“Um…Yes?”
The circle turned red.
“Oh, I’m sorry, it was the left.”
“Blast.”
Pops scoffed. “Wannabe.”
“Shut up, you!”
“Question number four: The Green Gladius is the son of Candida Fayez and who?”
Lady Demos jumped up and down, her hand raised. “Oh, this one I can answer!”
“Then go ahead.”
She folded her arms smugly. “Her husband.”
The circle turned red.
“What?!”
“Oh, I’m sorry, they were never married.”
She stomped her foot.
Pops raised his hand. “The Dark Hoplite.”
“That is correct.”
As the circle turned blue, Pops pumped his thin little arms excitedly. “Imma have a harem party tonight!”
“One more correct answer and Storgen will be declared the winner.”
Lady Demos looked like she might faint. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Come on wife, don’t give up. You can do this. You have to do this.”
The kitten struggled against the large knitted hat and booties it was forced to wear.
Nyfitsa tugged nervously at his collar as the last of the sun became a sliver on the horizon.
“Question number five: “In the Voyages of Tanabori, Taavi is the father of Casey, but Casey is not the son of Taavi. Why is this?”
Pops moved to raise his hand, but Lady Demos pushed him over.
“Because he’s adopted!” she blurted out desperately.
The circle became red.
“I’m sorry, that is incorrect.”
Pops propped himself up on his elbow. “Because Casey is his daughter, of course.”
The sigil circle flashed blue and white, then collapsed back down into the amulet.
“I declare Storgen the winner,” Piers said, handing out the talisman.
Lord Demos was crushed. “Impossible.”
Lady Demos collapsed atop her own hoop skirt. “Nooooooooo!”
Lord Demos held up his fist. “I swear, Storgen, if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll get you for this.”
Storgen rolled his eyes as he stooped over to help Pops to his feet. “Sheesh, just let it go, man.”
Nyfitsa’s neck began to glow. Looking out the window, he saw the last sliver of the sun vanishing.
“No, we’re out of time, he must die now!”
Nyfitsa pulled a dagger hidden within his coat and lunged at Storgen, poison dripping from the edge.
Storgen turned to react, but the man was already on top of him. Nyfitsa screamed like a banshee as he stabbed, his eyes wild and desperate. As the tip thrust downwards, the magical collar emerged from Nyfitsa’s neck, and he vanished in a flash of light.
Storgen and Pops sat there, stunned, the envenomed blade clattering harmlessly to the floor.
Nyfitsa’s empty clothes collapsed into a heap, something small stirring within.
All eyes remained fixed as whatever it was worked its way out, then a small scruffy weasel poked out its head, whiskers twitching as it looked around with black, beady eyes.
Pops and Storgen began to laugh as the startled creature scurried out of the shop and vanished into an alleyway.
Chapter Thirteen
One by one, the elementals fell before the onslaught of the gods, each time taking of their power and adding it to their own. Death was cast deep into the earth, the stench of his rotting corpse splitting the living rock and creating the caves of the underworld. Sorrow was shattered, the fragments of her body scattering like dust into the wind, for all mortals to breathe in. Fire was broken, the remnants of his body buried beneath volcanos which belch his blood. Water was defeated, imprisoned for all time in the eternal frost of the north. But the gods could not break Time, nor Life, his beloved wife, nor could they steal their authority. So they chained him to the sun, and her to the moon. In those days, the Sun and the Moon were stationary in the heavens, and darkness was unknown. But as they strained and pulled against their bonds, they dragged the Sun and the Moon across the sky, and the two began to move, struggling eternally until the day of Katálixi, when Time and Life shall break their bonds, and wreak their vengeance upon the gods.
Thus, the War of the Stars ended in victory for the gods.
- Runic carvings found in the Sapphire Caves, origin unknown, discovered H.B. 271
“Where is he?”
Lord Demos bent down on one knee, his bruised face bandaged up with glowing cloth to speed up the healing of his broken nose. “My goddess, he boarded the ships early this morning for Kólasi.”
Ambera smacked her gum in surprise. “He hasn’t done a single thing asked of him until now; why obey all of the sudden?”
“Perhaps he felt he wasn’t safe here on Ápinso,” Piers opined as he stood before the sanctum doors.
Ambera blew a bubble and popped it with her finger. “You’re dismissed, Lord Demos.”
“Yes, my goddess.”
Lord Demos turned around and left quietly. The other aristocrats spoke of him in hushed voices, whispers of shame and disappointment.
High piestess Acantha stood next to the throne, tapping information into her clockwork slate, still wearing the mangy fox costume from her early morning shift. “The administration team should arrive in Kólasi in two weeks, barring weather.”
Ambera rubbed her head, trying to ignore the incessant pinging of chisels as the gaggle of artisans put the finishing touches on the new wing of the temple. “Fine, we’ll deal with him after the festival. Those Ailuros hate surprises anyway.”
“We’ve also received another request from the security council. They’re requesting extra forces to patrol the Confederate border. We’ve lost contact with several settlements over the last six months.”
“Pah! That’s Aeneas’ territory. Let him deal with it. What next?”
“My Goddess, with your permission I would prefer to change back into my ceremonial robes.”
Ambera blew another bubble thoughtfully. “You know, I actually kind of prefer you dressed like that.”
Acantha sighed. “Very well. For the next item on the agenda, I have distressing news about the search for his lavender-haired girl.”
“What? Please don’t tell me you actually found her? I’ve had enough bad news for one morning.”
“We’ve found a few possible leads, but nothing concrete. The problem is, we are running out of places to look.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re still waiting on the records from Mystina, but other than that, my staff has combed through the archives of every island in the empire.”
“Great, they can finally get back to their regular duties.”
“No, they can’t. The contract you signed has a diligence clause. If you stop looking diligently, you will default. That means we’ll have to start looking in Agadis and the Phillian Confederacy, and I doubt either of them are just going to hand over their archives to us willingly.”
“Ugh, this deal is getting worse all the time.”
“No, it’s the same deal it’s always been. With respect, it was a mistake to sign it.”
“Goddesses don’t make mistakes,” she countered blithely, smacking her gum.
Acantha raised an eyebrow, but held her tongue.
Ambera shot up into the air, startling everyone in the room. “Wait, that’s it!”
Acantha peeked out from behind her slate she was using to shield herself. “What is?”
The goddess snapped her finge
rs and the labyrinthine golden contract appeared in the air before her. She traced her finger over a part of it, whispering to herself.
“Yes, yes!” she exclaimed. “The contract says I must search diligently, but it doesn’t say where I must search.”
“My goddess has a singular enthusiasm for loopholes.”
Ambera threw her hand out, the aristocrats backing away in fear. “Start searching under rocks!”
“Rocks?”
“Start at the north shore, then work your way around Ápinso. Have everyone in your households take shifts. You never know, his girl with lavender hair might just be underneath one of those rocks.”
The aristocrats were clearly disturbed by this order, but only Acantha was willing to voice it.
“If I may venture an opinion, that will be an enormous waste of their time.”
Ambera floated back down into her throne. “Of course it will be. That’s the point.”
She glanced over at Acantha, her eyes flashing red. “You have an objection?”
“No, my Goddess.”
She settled happily back into her throne and grabbed a bushel of grapes from a well-oiled slave. “Good, then.”
Outside there was a scuffle, the clattering of weapons and the shouting of guards. Piers and the others reacted instantly, forming a defensive ring around the goddess, while slaves scuttled about, looking for timbers to shore up the door.
“What’s going on? What is that?” Ambera asked.
The hall of the sanctum thudded as the doors bent inwards, the brass carvings and reliefs crunching under the pressure. A second thud and the doors gave way, collapsing into the room and cracking the marble floors.
Beyond was a demigod, standing there with his hand raised from knocking. In his other hand, he held Lord Demos by the throat, the man kicking and gasping against the vice-like grip. A dozen guards surrounded him. Their crossbows raised and readied, but he ignored them, his milky pink eyes fixed on the suffering man in his grip.
Many of the courtesans screamed when they saw it.
Ambera’s eyes narrowed. “Skotádi, why are you here?”
“Shhh, this is my favorite part,” the demigod whispered, tracing his fingers over his white albino skin.
He lifted Lord Demos up higher, turning him back and forth as if he were inspecting a doll. Demos punched and kicked, bit and stabbed, his, his mouth foaming.
“See how quickly it is reduced to its base instincts?”
With a pale finger, he reached out and took a little dab of the foam. “Where is your intellect now, human? Your compassion and understanding, your subtlety and grace all sloughed away the second I touched you. See how quickly every gesture and nuance is reduced to nothing more than quivering meat? I wish you could see the look in your eyes right now. Like a cornered animal, wild and dangerous.”
He put the dab of foam into his pink mouth and closed his eyes, savoring the flavor.
“Skotádi, put him down,” Ambera ordered.
The demigod stepped into the room, his long flowing robes moved like tentacles, the material otherworldly, like deep waters. It hurt the eyes of the courtesans just to look at it.
Skotádi opened his milky pink eyes and looked at the struggling man in his grip, as if he had forgotten he was holding something. “Is this thing yours?”
Ambera smacked her gum in irritation. “He is one of my choicest servants, yes.”
Skotádi nodded slowly. “I see. Well then, if this thing is so precious to you, why did you not teach him to stand aside when a demigod from the Tower approaches?”
Lord Demos’ body began to lose his strength, his face turning blue.
“Please release him, he’ll die,” Acantha pleaded.
Skotádi tilted his head, trying to understand the request. “Such a strange thing to say. Of course he will die. He’s a mortal. They all die.”
“Yes, but he wasn’t going to die right now.”
The albino crinkled his nose and thought. “If he dies now, or in a few years, is that really a meaningful distinction?”
Piers and the other guards moved closer, their weapons sparking with magical energy.
“The goddess gave you an order.”
The guards fired their crossbows. Quicker than thought, Skotádi’s robes coiled around him like a shell, the bolts passing into the deep waters and vanishing. Piers stabbed with his spear, but the weapon was torn from his hand, yanked into the robes where it vanished beneath the surface.
Skotádi uncoiled from his shell, completely unharmed.
Growing bored, he tossed Lord Demos’ limp body aside, the man coughing and hacking for breath as his wife ran to his side and wept.
The albino regarded her oddly. “Does it pain you to see him in such a state? The reality is, I have changed nothing. He was always an animal, all I did was pull back the curtain to reveal what he hid behind it.”
He stepped closer, running the back of his finger across the tears on her cheek.
It made her skin crawl.
He held up his finger and breathed in deeply, rubbing her tears against his lips sensually.
“You monster,” she sobbed.
The albino snickered, running his fingers through his colorless hair. “You think I do these things because I am a monster?”
The snicker became a laugh, and the laugh became a cackle as he ran his fingers through her hair.
“Don’t touch me!”
“I don’t do these things because I am a monster. I do these things because I am human. Half-human, anyway.”
He stepped further into the sanctum. Everyone backed away as he approached.
“Don’t you know what a human is? A human is a thing that kills in order to survive. There’s no use trying to reform it, there’s no point in trying to make amends. Every breath you take is earned by taking the lives of other living things; the difference between you and me is that I am honest about it. I embrace my human side, while you seem to struggle against it to achieve…I don’t know, what do you hope to get out of it? Certainly not peace, one look at you tells me your lives have been nothing but pain and rejection. So, where is your reward? What prize has been given you by resisting your true nature?”
“We worship the light of creation,” Acantha retorted.
“We are civilized,” one of the courtesans added.
“Hmm. Does that make you feel better about yourself? Does that help you sleep at night? Why pretend to be something you are not? Why fake logic? Why pretend reason?”
“That’s enough.”
Ambera stood up and held out her hand, summoning a river of energy that flowed like water down her throne and slamming into the demigod, consuming him completely in the current. “You dishonor my temple, mistreat my followers, threaten my guards, break my brand new door, and challenge my authority? Leave this place immediately and never return!”
The river washed away the broken doors, smashing clear through the outer wall, tearing a furrow across the plaza until finally tumbling down the slopes into the Apérantos River. Slaves and courtesans grabbed ahold of whatever they could, the whipping winds nearly plucking them clear off their feet as the torrent of power surged through the sanctuary.
The river bled away, leaving Skotádi standing there, completely unscathed as a golden contract floated in the air before him, protecting him.
“As you can see, I have every right to be here. This contract is legal, binding, and completely unbreakable, even by you.”
“Tch.” Ambera sat back down in her throne, gripping the arms angrily.
"This was your agreement to the Alchemy Tower when you became the Empress of the Fall, an agreement to respect our property and territory. You swore an oath to honor our neutrality.”
The contract began to pulse ominously, Ambera’s seal and signature at the bottom burning red hot.
He reached into the material of his watery robes, his arms sinking down all the way to the elbow, then pulled out an ancient piece of papyrus, th
e writing so faded it was barely legible. “This is the original bill of sale. The Tower purchased XVII lawfully and legally. He belongs to us, he is our property. You should have returned him to us immediately.”
“I did not know who he was,” Ambera said flatly. Acantha flicked her eyes over the goddess. She knew she had lied, yet she couldn’t find a trace of dishonesty on the goddess’ face.
Skotádi held the papyrus close to the contract, and it began to flash dangerously. “So, what happens when I combine these two documents? Proof of your oath and proof of your violation of that same oath?”
He looked around, his milky pink eyes, taking in the frightened looks. “You’ve never seen a god go into default, have you? It’s not a pretty sight. It depends on the terms, of course, but in this case, default will transfer all of her holdings, property, and authority to the tower. If I touch these two together, everyone in this room will belong to me.”
He licked his lips as the men backed away and the women covered their mouths in horror.
He looked over Ambera as she sat there, chewing her gum defiantly.
“It is interesting reading your expressions, Ambera. You’re calculating exactly how much ambrosia you suspect it will take to defeat me. Wondering if that amount is greater than the value you place on your servants. Even now, your only real concern is worrying how much work it might take to replace them, wondering if there is a way you can spin their deaths in a way that won’t cause you to lose face with the rest of the pantheon. You gods are such a petulant lot.”
“Don’t blaspheme! Ambera is a gentle goddess,” Acantha protested.
Skotádi shrugged. “Very well, then.”
As he brought the two documents together, Ambera held up her hand.
“Enough.”
She sighed. “Storgen is on a ship bound for Kólasi. I’ll give you the route. Send your goons and take him, I don’t care. I’m glad to be rid of him.”
“You would make me hunt him down myself?”
“If your marionettes can’t capture an unarmed human you’ve got bigger problems than your stupid little counterspell project.”
The mention of it caught his attention.
Ambera raised an eyebrow. “What, you didn’t think I would find out? You demigods have been trying to figure out a way to replicate the curse in his blood, haven’t you?”
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