“Ev, you know we’re not supposed to speak of him.”
Evren shrugs. “Our tutor encouraged us to study him. The vampires talk about him all the time.”
I study their faces. Wide eyes, intent expressions, an air of … excitement. Enthusiasm. My brothers’ tutor in the Thorn could barely cover basic reading and arithmetic, and for the first time, they’re learning about history and geography. I won’t squash that enthusiasm.
“In that case, tell me what you learned.”
Gerith clears his throat. “Mortuus is the god of ruin, embodying despair, decay, and chaos. Every twenty-five years, on the anniversary of his imprisonment, the bars of Mortuus’s cage grow weak enough for him to briefly escape and walk through the world as a human from dusk until dawn.” His gaze drops below the mirror and Evren scoffs.
“He’s reading that from the book.”
I hide a smile. “That’s cheating, Ger.”
He shrugs. “Elva told me Mortuus began a war with the other gods thousands of years ago. He wanted to create death and despair, so the other gods united behind Umbros to stop him. Is that true?”
I’ve done something right. My brothers question everything taught to them, especially by vampires.
“Yes,” I say, although I’m not surprised that the vampires have decided Umbros is the hero in this story. “Personally, I’ve always wondered why Umbros would care about what happens to mundanes and sigilmarked.”
“He doesn’t,” Evren says. “It was Mortuus who stole the sun from Umbros’s children. So the vampire god wanted revenge.”
Wait. What?
“Mortuusis the reason vampires can’t go out in the daylight?”
Evren nods. “He took the sun from them as vengeance against Umbros. They had been feuding for thousands of years.”
Not to be undone, Gerith glances down at his textbook. “The other gods joined with Umbros, each of them donating a piece of their most precious power to create a prison made from the very essence of life. They hid such a place where no one would ever find it, working together for the first time since their own creation.”
That makes perfect sense. If Mortuus had succeeded, there would have been no one left to pray to the other gods. This world would have turned to ruin, and the other gods would have grown weak.
Gerith holds his textbook up to the mirror. In it, Mortuus stands, his mouth twisted into a snarl, his eyes two dark slits as his hand poundson a shimmering gold wall. On the other side of the wall, Anoxian looks on. The battle god’s hand is wrapped around a sword—the blade so dark, it seems to suck up all the light in the room. There’s a hint of a smile on Anoxian’s face as he watches Mortuus.
My memory throws me back to Tiernon. Watching him lose the sun, knowing he would never get to feel its warmth on his skin again, seeing the dull acceptance in his eyes …
At that point in my life, experiencing Tiernon’s loss with him counted among my worst moments.
I’d had no idea just how much worse my life was going to get.
Evren picks up the piece of parchment, dropping it so Gerith can catch it with his wind. Despite the envy that must burn within him, Ev’s excited for his brother, already helping him train.
I’ve seen Gerith sit by Evren’s bed for hours reading to him when Ev was too weak to read. I’ve seen Evren save a precious last piece of cheese for his brother because he knows he loves it.
No matter what happened, no matter how much we struggled in the Thorn, they always stuck together. If something happens to me here, they’ll protect each other.
“Velle?” Ev asks. “What’s wrong?”
I attempt a smile. “Nothing. Except that I’m late for training.”
“With Leon?” Ger asks.
“Yes, with Leon.”
His expression hardens and I don’t blame him. While Ev was closer to Kassia, Gerith used to follow Leon around when Tiernon was busy. When Leon retreated, shutting us all out, Ger tried to hide how much it hurt, but I’d known.
“I need to go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
They nod, and I wave my hand over the glass before heading back to my bunk, where I wrap the mirror in my blanket once more.
