As we gathered below Adro, Viper strode into the cavern with the Adroanzi docilely following him like rats with the Pied Piper.
“What have you done to my children?” Adro roared hollowly.
“Honestly, I haven't the foggiest.” Viper shrugged. “I think I converted them.”
“You... you...” Adro sputtered. “You cannot convert them! They are mine!”
While Adro was distracted, I tore open the cage. “I know I look really scary, but I'm here to save you.”
The kids cowered away from me. Damn. Would shifting into a naked woman be better or worse than my weredragon form?
“I swear that I won't hurt you—”
“Let me, Carus,” Azrael offered as he stepped up, then spread his wings.
The children looked at Azrael as if he were, well, exactly what he was. They rushed forward to cling to him, crying and begging that he save them. Azrael's wings swept down around the children protectively, reminding me of a religious painting I'd seen once. I tried to not let it bother me. So what if a bunch of kids saw me as a monster and Az as a savior? It didn't matter as long as they were safe. Okay, it kinda stung but it was the smallest pain I'd experienced that day and I'm honest enough to admit that it was also petty.
Azrael quickly led the children toward the tunnel, his wings stretching wide to block them from Adro. But Adro was still raging at Viper and screaming at the unresponsive Adroanzi, trying to reclaim his progeny. He didn't even notice that his precious sacrifices were escaping until it was too late.
“What have you done?!” Adro screamed at all of us when he finally noticed the empty cage. “Why? Why won't you leave me alone?!”
“Because you're killing people,” Torrent said with an obvious tone. “You killedkids.”
“So what? They're humans, they barely live before they die. What do their lives matter in relation to mine? I am eternal, and I am in eternal hell because ofthem.”
“You accepted their worship,” Odin said sternly. “You could have refused.”
“I didn't know it would do this to me!” Adro waved a hand at himself. “Did any of you thinkthiswas what we risked when we accepted their offerings? Huh? Can you honestly say that you wouldn't do everything within your power to change this if it were your life?”
“I would try,” Thor admitted. “But I would also cease those efforts when I realized that changing things could destroy me and all of my fellow gods.”
“It wouldn't have, you fool!” Adro shouted. “That's why I needed the children. With their young blood, I would have had enough magic to offset the break. It would have been fine if you had only minded your own fucking business!”
“It wouldn't have worked, Adro,” Odin said calmly. “You would have destroyed yourself and possibly all of us along with you.”
“No, I wouldn't have. I found a spell to remake a myth. I needed a lot of power to fuel it, including nine children sacrifices, but it would have worked.”
“What spell?” Odin asked skeptically.
Adro laughed mirthlessly. “I'm not sharing my secret with you, Oathbreaker. Especially not now that you've ruined everything.”
“There is no such spell,” Odin declared. “If you found one, it's a fake—a hoax to fool a god.”
“It's not a fake!” Adro roared. His roar went on and on—frustration, fury, and hopelessness ringing within it.
I cringed to hear such pain but then the roar gained meaning. Adro began to chant. He lifted his chin and spoke words that resonated through the cavern. Words that sparked in the air and tingled across my skin.Magicalwords.
He was casting a witch's spell.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The Itakupe launched themselves into the air, shifting as they went. The sound of wings became physical, thudding against my eardrums along with the resonance of Adro's chanting. The witch in me recognized my craft and the goddess in me cringed. How was this possible? Adro was a god, he shouldn't have been able to cast witch magic. And yet, there he was, speaking the words and crafting the spell.
Everyone who had a projectile attack cast it, magic streaking through magic, and the air crackled with power. It sparked with it. I'd never felt such a build-up of energy before—such a vortex of potential. It drew me forward, sucking at my skin like a vacuum, and I found myself digging the claws on my feet into the earth to resist it even as I breathed fire at Adro.
An explosion of feathers—like that of a burst pillow—filled the air as the Itakupe hit a gleaming barrier. Our magic struck the same impediment and as the owls tumbled to the ground, our magic fizzled out furiously. Adro grinned as he continued to chant. Out of options and time, I reached for my star. This was surely a situation worthy of her help. We couldn't let Adro succeed in his spell.
The star brightened inside my chest and relief washed through me, but when I wished for Adro to be stopped, my capricious star only shimmered. Was I supposed to reach through it to the Nine Great Magics myself? It was a connection between the Nine and me and there had been times when I was able to use the magic as if it were my own instead of making a wish on the Trinity Star. But what would help me here? Control? Hate? None of the others seemed as if they'd help. And that was why the star was always my best bet: it combined the Nine and made them into something more than the sum of its parts. Something infinite and unstoppable.
