“Unfortunately, you cannot leave, seeing as how your soul belongs tomenow. It was what you agreed upon when trading places with Naia.” Cassian’s forearm lifted straight up, his long fingers curling in his palm. The large veins underneath his skin pulsed like black, poisoned worms up his wrist, staining the tips of his fingers as if he had dipped them in tar. “Now, I do recommend you cooperate. Otherwise, you know what comes next.”
A curse.
Finnian’s throat tightened.
It was impossible to determine the number of curses the High God possessed during his long lifespan. Certain ones stood out more and gained notoriety. Mira and Levina had received the Curse of Eternity. Naia’s first curse was the same. Her second curse was the Mercurial Exchange. The Curse of Weeping, The Call of the Void—all clever and unoriginal names, but worthy of the fear they bestowed in deities.
Finnian had great confidence in his problem-solving skills, resilience, and ability to overcome challenges. If he were a mortal, surviving would be a talent of his. However, uneasiness beat in the stride of his pulse, flickering with doubt.
“Which one?” he asked.
“The Kiss of Delirium.”
Finnian’s expression fell, making the mistake of showcasing the dread submerging through him.
“It starts as a quiet hum.” Cassian spoke slowly, as if to make sure Finnian could interpret each word without mistake. “Darkness the size of a pinprick. A parasite that nuzzles its way into the most precious parts of your mind. With time, it learns your weaknesses, what you fear most, and without realizing it, your mind plays tricks on you. Until it slowly leads you into madness.”
Finnian steeled his jaw, sick at the thought. The disturbing sensation of the serpents licking at his neck, up his pant leg, over his arms—it was too much. He wished to burn them to powder. More than that, he resented Cassian and his intoxicatingly powerful aura and patient disposition, as if he had all the time in the world to sit and watch Finnian decide his fate.
“You are a prideful god swathed in power.” The charcoal veins in Cassian’s forearm darkened, surging like ink through his palms and up into his fingers. “Power that took you centuries to hone and perfect. A deity of magic, of sorcery. Your biggest strength is your mind and all the knowledge it holds.”
Knowledge was his most prized possession. Planning, plotting five steps ahead. Memorizing hundreds of incantations and potion recipes. Centuries of lessons and techniques that had carved him into the god he was today. Losing self-control, his mind becoming corrupted, was his worst nightmare.
A nightmare he fully accounted for back when he came up with the idea to switch places with Naia.
He’d planned out his agenda ahead of time. From the moment his darling sister arranged to meet with him at the Kahale residence on Nohealani Island, pregnant and furious with him for summoning the triplets when she’d located him at Alke Hall. He knew the price of breaking Cassian’s curse, and he’d purposely hidden the truth from her. Although, he wasn’tfoolish enough to believe Naia wouldn’t figure it out in the end. She was smarter than she believed herself to be.
Which was precisely why he’d shown up, concealed his aura, and watched Naia and Ronin take on Cassian from afar. Until the opportune moment. When the syringe of Ash’s poisonous blood fell from their hands, he swooped in and obtained his leverage to trade places with Naia.
The ticket to right his wrongs.
There were three things he must do. One of which was to free Father. The other two had been set in motion long before he became a prisoner.
He’d considered the chance of becoming cursed during the pursuit of rescuing their father in the Land. Should that occur, he would swiftly carry out his plan, enduring as much as he could. When he made it out, he would concoct a potion and break the curse himself—withoutsacrificing anything of importance. He knew there was always a way.
Looking back now, his faith in his resilience and strength might’ve been a conceited mistake on his part. Preparing to be cursed did nothing to lessen the reality of it, and now that he approached the threshold, hesitation froze his nerves to stand grounded and wrestle with such fate.
“And what will you do when your curse drives me to insanity?” Finnian narrowed his eyes at the High God. “I may end my life with the very thing you seek. What will you do then?”
Cassian moved closer, wafting a rush of citrus and mint up Finnian’s nose. “Even in death, you belong to me.”
Finnian’s mouth clamped into a tight line. A grim image appeared in his mind—down on his knees, pleading for death to free himself from the curse’s torment. He loathed the idea of death and its infinite void too much. Ceasing to exist, without a choice, a reason. He’d gladly wrestle with the torment of a curse over becoming Cassian’s prisoner in the Land.
A sharp anger burned through him, and he lifted on his knees, pushing into Cassian’s space. The serpents at his feet scattered. “I will not let your curse be my ruin. Death will not touch me.Ever.”
Cassian stared at him for a moment, intently. Something about it bristled warmth in the creases of Finnian’s bitterness. A distant, unfamiliar longing awakening inside of him. He could not make sense of it.
The snake around Finnian’s neck slowly retreated, slithering down his shoulder and onto the floor. It joined the others at the room’s center near the blazing pit of flames.
The soft tips of Cassian’s forefinger met Finnian’s exposed collarbone; the fabric had torn from Shivani’s torture.
Finnian’s breath hitched from the sudden touch.
Cassian grazed up the ridges of his throat, slowly cupping the side of his neck.
Finnian’s heart accelerated, and the sensation tingled in his bloodstream. He blamed it on his body, starved for any form of pleasure after months of misery.
Cassian’s thumb skimmed over the scar running up Finnian’s jawline and behind his ear.
