The expression he saw caused a stirring within Shadow’s void and he was drawn, almost against his will, toward the god. He was at a point where he couldn’t maintain the distance that was between them.
What is unfolding is possibly the most frightening event I’ve ever experienced.
Truly frightening.
He pressed his lips together into a straight line. One possibility was that he was struggling with whether to yield to the insanity that was progressively taking over his thoughts or to regain control over himself.
He grasped the desk even tighter. His legs became taut with tension as the sheer weight of his grief appeared to be physically pressing down on his shoulders. With a profound, guttural sigh escaping his lips, his hands swept away all the papers that wereon the wooden surface. A full bottle of mead shattered into numerous fragments as it hit the floor. As the alcohol spilled out at his feet, another shout escaped his mouth, and his fingers went up to his hair, where he clutched at the strands as if he intended to pull them out.
You’re almost losing yourself.
Eros lifted his eyes, as if he was trying to look at something—but his gaze drifted away the second his feet crushed a few pieces of glass when he stepped away from the desk. As he let his hands hung loosely at his sides, his gaze dropped to the glass that was now piercing into his soles. It was then that a look of realization dawned across his features.
He murmured, “The blood of the God of Manipulation might be helpful.” And then stooped to pick up a shard of glass. “Would you agree?”
Finally.
“Of course.” Shadow’s voice finally filled the library, bringing a playful smirk to the god’s face. “But in what manner will you use it?”
He eventually cut his skin, applying pressure to it, and the drops of blood that poured fell to the floor, joining the crimson liquid that was already gathering from his feet. Though he showed no pain, a growing sense of satisfaction began to appear on his face.
“The desperation might convince you to do things you might regret later,” Shadow spoke again, making a brief pause as he glided closer to the god. “But is it not preferable to experience the regret of having acted over the regret of having never attempted?”
“Indeed,” Eros answered, as if he repeated after Shadow himself. “But the bond…it grows on me. I am unable to ignore the compelling entreaty to seek out Charisma and reunite with her.”
Shadow recognized the growing strain on the God’s mind, a direct consequence of being kept from his bonded for too long. In history, there were instances where gods, having formed bonds with mortals who ultimately passed away, could never revert to their former state. He worried that without Charisma, Eros would fade into obscurity, just like so many others throughout history.
A smirk played upon his lips as he made his way toward the final bookshelf in the library, which Shadow also knew housed all of his artifacts and ancient tomes. Without loosening his hold on the piece of glass, blood dripped from his hand, splattering the floor as he moved toward the shelf.
He started searching for the enigmatic item, tossing aside anything that impeded his progress until a collection of items had accumulated around him. With a growing sense of fury, his breath began to come in rapid spurts, his lips trembling as he proceeded to strike all of the artifacts with his fists. A disturbing scene unfolded as everything he touched became stained with his blood.
Shadow continued to observe and analyze him, noting the increasingly spasmodic movements, as he was struggling to find whatever it was he was searching for.
“I may be of assistance if you would share what you seek.”
“Given the length of your absence, it’s impossible that you could recall this item’s location,” Eros answered, his voice gravelly as he continued his search.
As his eyes filled with the final remnants of rage, his trembling left hand wavered above a small box, no bigger than half of his palm. He held it between his fingers, and the instant his gaze landed on it, he swiftly turned his gaze to his other hand, where the glass shard was still piercing his flesh.
Curiosity grew inside Shadow’s void as he studied the box. The second he saw the iridescent crystal, he understood whatEros was about to do. He would’ve recognized that artifact anywhere—especially since it was the most feared of them all in Elythra.
The Oracle Stone. When divine beings sought secrets only the most malevolent entities possessed, the Oracle Stone offered assistance, as it was the only tool capable of unveiling any magical concealment. The stone would reveal the valuable information with just a single drop of a god’s blood. However, the true price for its help would be hidden until the Oracle determines his reward. As far as Shadow understood, an Oracle’s greatest ambition was to have control over a god’s life.
“It is regrettable that the gods momentarily believed that this artifact would be safe with a god willing to give up his life for love,” Eros said and felt himself getting pulled closer to the god. “Yet, we often make significant sacrifices for the sake of it, and for my bonded, the person whose life I am responsible for, I would do anything right now.”
As Eros pivoted, he directed his gaze toward Shadow, who was still present, and his eyes revealed a playful glint, filled with a hopeful anticipation. A simple, rapid flick of his thumb was all it took for him to open the container, and in doing so, he revealed the enchanted stone, which had been lying in wait for a god in true distress to use it.
Eros’s desire to use the Oracle’s Stone came as a complete surprise to him, especially given his awareness of how crucial his powers were in the forthcoming battle to bring Charisma back. Yet he seemed not to care about it. And Shadow didn’t either.
“Proceed. Our time is limited,” Shadow said, and felt himself pulledevencloser to the god.
The light was gradually fading.
Once he had taken the stone in his left palm, he opened his other hand and glanced swiftly at the injury, where the blood was still flowing. As he reached out to spill his blood onto thestone in order to activate the Oracle, a wooden arrow struck Eros’s hand, pinning it to the rack behind him.
“I leave you alone for a few moments, and this is what you do?” Artemis’s voice echoed through the entire library.
“Stay out of it, Artemis,” he warned.
