“Yes.” Ko chuckles again. “More than you would. So perhaps I can help.”
Bass squeezes his fingers into fists, stretches them out, and then curls them again. “Where did the gods come from—and why do they possess us?”
Ko hums in thought. “Those are good questions to ask, though hard to answer, as many things are.”
“I died,” Basuin says, “and was brought back as a puppet.”
At that, the wolf-man opens its jaws wide and snaps a chunk of his lung off to snack on. He coughs.
“Not quite a puppet,” Ko says. “More akin to a shrine, of sorts.”
He blinks. “What?”
Ko leans forward now, sleeves falling to reveal a pair of tightly clasped hands. “Gods cannot exist in our world without a body. Not anymore. There’s so little magic in the land now. It’s been whittled away by humans, bled from the ground and from the trees.”
“There are no spirits left where I am from,” Basuin says. “Nothing like the forest.”
“If there were, gods could walk freely again. But without magic here to act as a conduit, their choices are limited.”
“To shrines?”
“And bodies,” Ko says. “You are a host.”
“But the island has magic, doesn’t it?” he asks. “There are spirits here. Sa-cha’s shrine is here. So gods should walk freely here, too. Why am I a host for the Wolf God?” His chest is buzzing, burning. Lightning running through his blood, racing through him. “Doesn’t the Wolf God have a body? A shrine?” Basuin asks, a hand on his heart—where it used to be.
But the wolf-man is silent.
“They used to,” Ko says. “The Forest God and the Wolf God used to roam the forest together, even before they were bound by divine oath—before the Wolf God became the guardian of the Forest God. They were always together. But they…”
Basuin’s jaw loosens. He leans forward. “They what?”
For the first time tonight, Ko looks away from Basuin and into the forest beyond them. His Adam’s apple bobs with a swallow.
“They were always together, until they weren’t anymore.” Ko takes in a breath, then shrugs, turning back to face Basuin. “I don’t know what happened.”
He lets out a sigh, head falling, thumbs twiddling, until he nods. “Of course. I wouldn’t expect you to know everything. I appreciate what you’ve told me already. It’s been helpful.”
Yet no questions have been answered. It only solidifies what he already knows: he’s a puppet being strung along by a god he knows nothing about. It’s gotten him no closer to where he needs to be—the Winter River.
But Basuin can’t help but wonder: Why did the Wolf God become the guardian of the Forest God? Was it duty bestowed upon the Wolf God, just like the Wolf God bestowed duty upon him? Bound by divine oath?
Ko smiles. “I’m glad. Is there anything else I can help with?”
“Actually... ” Basuin draws a ball of light to his hand, red with magic. A part of him is excited at how fast he’s gotten at the simple things. “I want to learn to heal, like you did tonight. Would you be able to teach me?”
But the look on Ko’s face, the spot of pity where Ko’s brows draw to and his forehead wrinkles, is answer enough before he shakes his head.
“My apologies. I’m not well-versed in god magic. It’s very different from forest magic.”
Basuin nods. “That’s all right.” The light in his hand quiets before dissolving completely, leaving behind red flecks of magic spattered across his god mark. “Thank you, Ko. I won’t keep you up any longer tonight.”
If Ko cannot teach him, he’ll have to ask Ren’s forgiveness after all. He’ll have to pray that she’ll receive him again.
Slowly and with a groan resembling the creak of wood, Ko presses to his feet and bows his head. Bass bows in response, drawing up the best small smile he can to bid Ko goodnight.
But as Ko begins his sluggish walk, Basuin calls after him. “Wait—”
Ko turns and Basuin freezes in response. He shouldn’t ask this, he knows it. But it itches at him, in his palm where his god mark is burned into his skin. He has to know.
