City of the Sleeping Gods

by Olivia Ash

“This machine was designed by the greatest alchemists of the age,” Headmistress Mittle said, “On the cutting edge of contritum research, to understand and help broken souls heal. It will contain your power if you have an episode, but it is also designed to help seal the cracks in your soul.”

  “Will it hurt?” Sophia asked, it wasn’t that she was afraid of the pain—she’d experienced her fair share over the years—she just wanted to prepare for it.

  The headmistress nodded, and her eyes looked sad. “But, I will work with you through the pain. I will always be here for you. We will conquer this together.” She gave Sophia a reassuring smile. “I know Grindel has gotten you this far, and I’m grateful to him, but I don’t think he’s equipped to take you all the way. I’m not sure he even wants you to be whole again.” Her eyes turned sad again.

  “Grindel’s been a good teacher,” Sophia said.

  “Oh, yes. I don’t doubt that.” She patted Sophia’s hand. “He’s put his whole life into training you, so I worry that he’s afraid of seeing you whole and healed. What would he do then? He’d be just a history professor, and nothing more.”

  Was what she saying true? Grindel had always pushed her to be better, be faster, be a great swordsman and bowman. To exert herself to the extreme. But when it came to her magic, he’d always warned her to be cautious. Not to press forward, to hold back. He always said it was to protect those around her, the creatures in the woods, the people in Nighthelm. What if he wasn’t concerned with protecting others, but with hampering her progress?

  Gritting her teeth, Sophia nodded to the headmistress, accepting the fact that maybe she didn’t really have a choice. “Let’s try it.”

  The headmistress gave her hand one last squeeze then stood and stepped out of the glass box. She swung shut the last glass panel then secured it with a brass hinge. She took a few steps back to watch.

  At first, Sophia didn’t think anything was happening. Then the machine started to make clicking and whirring noises, the little gears starting to spin. Within seconds, heat swelled inside her body. Not the pleasant sensation that rose being near her men gave her, but a fire. A burning, searing, hungry fire that ate at her insides. It was similar to the magical attack she suffered before in her room in the cabin from who she assumed had been some sorcerer trying to unlock her identity.

  She gripped the sides of the chair and clenched her teeth together as the fire surged. Her skin began to glow a radiant, blue-white, like the hottest part of a flame. The light swelled so bright she could only catch glimpses of the world outside the cube through the blinding light. She turned her head—it was hard to do as it was like her body was glued to the chair—and sought out the headmistress.

  Headmistress Mittle’s face contorted with worry, her hands wringing together, and Sophia wondered if she was going to open the box and stop the machine. Beyond the headmistress, she spied a darkened shadow filling the doorway at the far end of the room. Was someone else there to watch? Was it Grindel finally arriving? She hoped so. Even though he angered her with his aloof nature and disciplinary attitude, she needed him. She needed him to get through this. Why was he not here?

  Sophia’s grip on the chair hardened until her fingers formed grooves in the wood. Her magic rippled inside her, swelling. It boiled and churned like a tide pool. Shaking her head, she tried to reach for her magic inside, to catch it before it could destroy, but it slipped through her fingers like sand. There was no way she could clasp it. Her magic had a mind of its own.

  It spun inside her body, like a burning top, spiraling up and up, reaching a crescendo that she could no longer restrain. Wild, chaotic magic exploded out of her, shattering the glass of the cube. As glass shards and fragments flew across the room, the very ground beneath her feet shook. A stone tile near her boot heel cracked in half.

  Clamping her eyes shut and clenching every muscle in her body, Sophia refused to let her magic destroy everything in the room and to vaporize the headmistress. Concentrating, she imagined sucking her magic back inside her. Drawing every thin tendril of it back through the pores of her skin. Within seconds, she felt her magic lessen, just enough that it didn’t completely demolish the room and the castle above.

  Spent, Sophia collapsed onto the floor, naked and shaking. As usual her clothes had burned off during the episode, but at least she hadn’t seared everything else around her. Although weak and exhausted, she fought off the blackout. She rapidly blinked to stay awake. She felt stronger this time, better than past episodes.

  Perhaps it was the machine that aided her, but she doubted it since it was in a hundred pieces on the floor beside her, some metal pieces stuck into the far wall, another casualty of her episode. Perhaps, it was finding the other piece of her soul and spending time near it, even though she didn’t know which man held it for her, which one was making her stronger. Though she was sure it was most likely Edric, as she’d spent the most time with him, and had been intimate with him.

  Putting her hands on the ground, Sophia pushed up, battling a wave of nausea as she did. She scrambled to her feet, wobbling a little but able to stand on her own mere seconds after an episode for the first time in her life. A sense of pride rose within her. Maybe she could really be a whole person soon, and finally walk through this world without hiding in the shadows. For twelve years it had seemed like an impossible dream, the thought that it might become real nearly made her knees buckle again.

  Stepping over glass pieces, Headmistress Mittle came to Sophia and draped a heavy, fur robe over her body to cover her up and keep her warm. Sophia looked up as she did, in time to see the shadow she saw earlier dart out of the doorframe and into the hallway beyond. She supposed it wasn’t Grindel, after all, and she bristled. He hadn’t come, although she was certain he knew what the headmistress was going to put her through. She didn’t care that he didn’t necessarily agree with Headmistress Mittle’s methods; he should’ve been here for her. He should’ve pushed aside his pride and been by her during what he would’ve known to be an immensely painful process.

  The headmistress smoothed a hand down her back. “You did well, my dear. Very well.”

  Sophia looked around the room, taking in the shattered glass cube and the ruined machine, and smiled, happy she didn’t destroy everything within a fifty-foot radius like before. To some, it may not have seemed like a victory, but to Sophia, it was a miracle.

  “Are you sure? I did break the machine,” Sophia said.

  “It’s nothing that matters,” the headmistress said, “you’re what matters. Healing you is the most important thing in this world.”

  Sophia asked something she’d always wondered about. “Why?”

  Headmistress Mittle met her gaze, looking right into her eyes. “Because you are important, Sophia. You have no idea how much.”

  Sophia wanted to ask more questions, but the headmistress was leading her over to the tunnel, which meant it was her clue to leave.

  “Who else was here?” Sophia asked before she could be ushered away. “There was someone in the doorway. I thought maybe it was Grindel finally showing up.”

  “Grindel had an errand to do for me, that’s why he wasn’t here.” The headmistress glanced briefly toward the door, then back at Sophia. “As to that, no one else was here, my dear. It was just you and me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Oh, yes.” Her voice went up an octave. “Quite sure. No one else knows about our work. Just you, me, and Grindel,” the headmistress said, as she rubbed Sophia on the back again. “Now, go home and get some rest. You earned it.”

  After Sophia pulled the robe tighter around herself, and tied it closed with the belt, she shuffled into the tunnel. She glanced over her shoulder one last time at the headmistress, who was standing there, twisting the big emerald ring around her finger, watching her leave.

  Headmistress Mittle was hiding something, that much was obvious. She’d been nervous when Sophia had asked about someone else being in the room. The twisting
of her ring on her finger was a huge tell. It was a sign of nervousness. And hadn’t her voice gone up a little when she’d talking? Sophia had definitely saw something hovering in the doorway, if not another person, then what? And why was the headmistress lying to her about it?

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Sophia

  Despite still being exhausted from her episode earlier in the day, Sophia was early for her date with Edric, even after bathing at the cottage. Grindel hadn’t been there either. When she arrived at the garden fountain, she found a wrapped package with her name on it. She looked around, but she was alone. She opened it to find a stack of books that she’d asked Ezekiel for, and a little note in elegant writing. A curious mind is a beautiful thing. She smiled, impressed with him, falling for him just a little.

  Before she could open one of the books, Winston stepped onto the cobblestone patio near the fountain. “Hello, Sophia.”

  She bristled at the sight of him, but remained polite. “Hello, Winston. What are you doing here?”

  He sat on the edge of the fountain next to her then reached out a hand to toy with the end of one of the ribbons on her dress. She had to suppress the urge to pull away from him and slap at his brazen hand.

  “There was an unexpected change in the shift rotations, so Edric won’t be able to make it. He sent me instead to check on you.”

  She knew it was horseshit. Edric would never send this man to do anything for him. There was no way that Winston was any kind of friend to Edric. She bet that Edric’s shift had been changed on purpose, as well.

  “What do you want?” She got to her feet, not wanting to be next to him.

  “You look tired,” he said, frowning. “I hope your… suitors haven’t been running you ragged.”

  She heard the innuendo in his voice and she twisted her hands at her waist to stop one of them from slapping the condescending smirk off his stupid face.

  “What do you want, Winston?” she asked again, her voice clipped.

  “I want that date you promised.”

  “I never promised you a date.”

  His jaw clenched, and she thought she should placate him at least, in case he got angry. She couldn’t afford a scene. She couldn’t afford having him as an enemy, not while she was so close to fixing her soul. He could make a lot of unnecessary trouble for her. And for her men.

  She’d done a little bit of research on Winston and discovered the Kent family were staunch supporters of the duchess. His father, Walter Kent, was a general in the castle guard and not the most gracious of men. General Kent had been a vocal dissenter when the royal family had granted the wraith community access to the city and had given them homes inside the walls. So, Winston’s obvious prejudices and such didn’t surprise Sophia one bit. He’d been raised to be an ignorant cad. And he was living up to that standard without fail.

  “But, I will think about it,” she said.

  He smiled, then tugged at the skirt of her dress arrogantly. “Did you think about it?”

  She tried not to glare at him. She had enough of him, and wanted desperately to put him in his place or to smack him across the head—whichever worked best—but she needed more time to figure out which of her men had the piece of her soul. She couldn’t afford to piss him off, not quite yet.

  He stood to get closer to her, and she took a step back. He sighed and gave a little shake to his head. “Eventually, you’ll realize I’m the one for you. That we’re perfect for each other.”

  “You know nothing about me to make that claim.”

  “Oh, I beg to differ, sweet Sophia.” He lifted an eyebrow. “As I saw you with the oracles. I heard what they said.”

  Her hackles rose and she frowned, wondering how much of the clues of her identity were revealed in that prophecy. Did he discern that she was an anima contritum? She didn’t think so or they wouldn’t be having this conversation; there would be city guards here instead, coming to arrest her and take her to the castle cells to await her execution.

  He chuckled at her obvious distress. “I know you’re a special woman, and special women deserve the very best man.” He took another step toward her. “I’m that man, Sophia. I’m from a prominent family. I can get you anything you want. Anything at all. Just name it and it’s yours.” He glanced down at the books on the fountain. “I’ll get you your own library, if that is your wish. I have access to more books than even Ezekiel, the castle’s pet sorcerer.”

  “Winston, you are—”

  “I will treat you like a goddess.” He reached out and wrapped his fingers around one of her braids.

  She gritted her teeth against the onslaught of revulsion that surged over her. She could hurt him just a little, couldn’t she? A man could still live a long happy life without a few fingers on his hand. She’d even take them from his left hand, so that he could still wield a sword for the castle guard.

  “I heard the oracles say you need to be healed. I don’t know what was done to you, but I can heal you, absolutely. I can hire all the best healers from not just Nighthelm, but other kingdoms. Money is no object. Just give me a chance to show you what I can, and will, do for you.”

  To another woman, his words might have been sweet nectar, but to Sophia, who knew better, they were rotten and stunk to the high heavens. He just wanted to be special through her, to show her off like a trophy, to his bawdy friends, to his haughty family. That’s all wealthy men like Winston understood. Possessions. To have. To own. She would never be anyone’s possession.

  “I appreciate your offer, Winston, but I have a lot going on, and—”

  “Yes, I heard you were having sex with Edric, the wraith, and the sorcerer.”

  She stiffened at his brazen statement. No man had ever talked to her in that way. She gave him a withering look.

  “I knew it.” He laughed. “You’ll realize how wrong you are the moment they break your heart, and they will break it. All three of them have a string of lovers left broken in the streets. They use women for their own depraved ways, then toss them aside. Especially that wraith. His kind are naturally immoral.”

  She knew he was talking horseshit again. Anything to rile her up.

  He jerked on her braid. It wasn’t a playful little tug but a warning. “I won’t wait around forever, Sophia.” He let his hand drop, then he walked away.

  She really wanted to shout after him, “Promise?” but she didn’t. She was just relieved that he’d finally left her alone. In case Edric was able to get off his shift that Winston no doubt orchestrated to get him on, Sophia sat at the fountain and read through some of the notes Ezekiel prepared in order to answer some of her questions. She ran her hand over the pages and the ink, pushing away the uneasy feelings Winston had given her. Ezekiel’s gesture was so sweet, she found herself smiling as she skimmed the sections he marked for her.

  Reading through a ton of notes and scribbles, she finally found the pieces that mattered to her. The oracles had, a few times before, instructed the honored—or those who they spoke to—to bring certain people before them. If those chosen people were not worthy, they were killed by the trees’ roots, and the wish of the honored ones granted in exchange.

  Sophia realized she ran the very real risk of a deadly choice: sacrifice one of the men she was beginning to love, or live forever broken? This was the decision that the oracles had forced upon her. If she wanted to be whole again, she had to make a sacrifice. How could she do that and live with herself?

  She continued flipping through the pages and the other notes Ezekiel made until she came upon some information about contritums. As she read the words, her hands shook. Contrary to what the headmistress had explained to her in the past, anima contritums weren’t born… they were made purposely. Frowning, she continued reading, heart slamming in her chest. A contritum was broken through witnessing a truly horrific event. She’d seen this event when she was little.

  Someone had broken her on purpose.

  After shutting the book, she picked them
up and placed them under her arm. She left the garden to return to the wall and the exit to the woods. Haris found her the moment she crossed through the tunnel, and she jumped on his back, urging him home to the cabin as quick as he could.

  When she arrived at the cabin, she stormed inside, intent on demanding answers from Grindel about all the lies she’d been fed over the years. But the cottage was quiet and empty. Anger fueled her, and she swiped her hand at the clay cups, knocking them off the kitchen counter. They broke on the wood floor. She wanted to break more, but she reined the urge in, knowing it would do no good. Besides that, she would have to clean it all up since he was absent. Her anger was at Grindel, not at the things in the cottage.

  She would find out the truth. She would demand to know what the hell was done to her and why. Whoever did this to her would pay.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Sophia

  The night and day sped by in a bit of a blur, and as Sophia walked with Andreas to the wraith district near the far wall, she was quiet and lost in her thoughts just as she had been with Ezekiel the other day. She couldn’t help it. Her mind buzzed, and for the life of her, she couldn’t silence the noise.

  Andreas didn’t seem to mind, as he held her hand and looked at her every now and then to make sure she was content. She enjoyed the silence. She liked that he didn’t feel the need to fill up the space with words. His presence alone gave her comfort, made her feel strong, powerful, and capable.

  And right now, the silence was soothing as she contemplated the last few days.

  The experience in the great hall with the headmistress and what she learned from the books that Ezekiel had given to her swirled around in her head. She tried to make sense of it all, to form a plan to move forward, but it seemed so damned complicated.

  Deep down, she didn’t want to do this alone. She wished she could tell Andreas everything. She knew he would be able to help her sort it all out. Keeping it all inside was torture.