“Plenty, I assure you,” Cenviri replies, smiling. “There are dissenters. Those who’ve existed long enough to know how and when all this started. Those who are tired of being caught in the fray of Gaia and Netharis’ battles.”
“Yet she let Vaelyn ascend,” I say, my confusion growing. “The pantheon didn’t force her to return me to the living realm. She offered. It would have served her to make no offer at all.”
“It doesn’t surprise me she didn’t want you to ascend. Perhaps if you didn’t look so much like Celesta, you would have never met her.” Cenviri says. “No spurned mate, goddess or not, would commit themselves to an eternity of collaboration with a creature who resembles the mortal responsible for her mate’s downfall.”
My ribs crush my lungs, and silence sweeps all of the air out of the room. In the centuries I’ve known my father, not once was itever mentioned he had amate. A mate he jilted, no less.
The goddess of life.
Light take me.
“What a fucking mess,” Eve succinctly voices the thoughts of everyone at the table and sinks into her seat with a sigh.
Cenviri laughs. “Agreed. And thus you partially understand why the pantheon should cease to exist. Their grievances, petty squabbles, and personal vendettas destroy the lives of mortals.” He shifts in his seat and clasps his hands before him on the table. “It was never meant to be this way.”
“Whatever it is you’re about to suggest, don’t,” I retort, my eyes narrowing. “I’m here on account of my soul crystal. Nothing more.”
If this necromancer is proposing taking on the pantheon of gods, I’ve zero interest in involving myself to any degree. Cenviri is welcome to fight the gods, without me. I won’t stand in his way.
“Fair enough,” Cenviri deigns with a dip of his chin. He extends an arm, laying an upturned hand upon the table. “If I may see the ritual.”
I push the book in his direction and Ryc takes it, handing it to Cenviri. Drawing it close, Cenviri’s hand hovers above the cover. A sharp tingle races down the length of my spine as the cover throws itself open and pages fly.
“I’m sure there’s a copy of the same in my archives,” Cenviri says, mostly to himself. “But I’ve had no reason to search for it yet.”
“You’re confident you’ll be able to perform it?” Ryc asks over the sound of rapidly turning pages.
Pale moss green eyes flick toward Ryc before returning to the book. “If the ritual is beyond me, you will not find another capable.”
Ego isn’t confined to demons or the fae of Eldoterra it seems.
Necromancers fall victim as well.
The pages stop—falling open to a page littered with runes and casting circles. Chirping crickets from beyond the curtains fill the quiet lingering over the table as Cenviri reads.
“The ritual space must be cleansed, and the ritual itself must be cast while standinginthe veil.” His brows lift, surprise rounding hissharp features. “Il-akivwill need a life tether.”
He lifts his gaze and gives Ryc a firm stare.
“Are you willing to serve as her anchor, the thread preventing yourcrisfrom answering the call of death?”
I lower my gaze to my lap, hiding the grimace I wear.
“Of course. Without question,” Ryc answers.
“And have you walked in the veil before?”
“No,” Ryc says. He places a warm hand upon my thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Understand the veil is filled with horrors. Nightmares.” Cenviri meets the stares of Eve and Cyran as he continues to speak. “They’re lost souls. Promised to neither the heavens nor the hells. They wander, biding their time until they’re given a new chance at life. They were all once people. Take care to remember that.”
It’s one of the first things necromancers learn: bound dead are revered, unbound dead are a threat. And we’re stepping into a realm filled with thousands of unbound dead.
Cenviri turns the page and nods to himself.
“This will not be easy,” he says to me. “And it’s bound to draw the attention of Vaelyn or his Death Bringers.”
“What does it take to walk in the veil?” Eve asks and my head swings her direction. She ignores my silencing glare, choosing to keep her eyes fixed upon Cenviri. “If you expect me to sit on my hands and wait, you’re mistaken,” she says in low tones, the words clearly meant for me.
