A sour taste hit the back of Finnian’s throat. He’d forgotten about it. Without his divine power to maintain his glamor, it was on display for all to see, like a scroll pronouncing his weakness.
Finnian recoiled from his touch, but Cassian caught him by the throat. His grasp locked, applying enough pressure to bring discomfort.
Finnian sucked in a sharp breath, preparing for the snap of his vertebrae.
“Death cannot touch you?” Cassian’s eyes flashed up from Finnian’s scar, their golden hue shining fervently. “IamDeath.”
Animosity surged viciously in Finnian’s pulse, heating the tips of his ears.
Circumstances would never become him. He had trudged through several hells in his lifetime. He would right the wrongs he’d made the day he allowed the triplets to trick him, ultimately leading to the demise of their father, his own banishment, forced to abandon Naia in Kaimana.
Nothing could hinder him, curse or not.
A heinous smile stretched across his face, revealing his blood-stained teeth. “Do your worst.”
Cassian’s fingers twitched around his throat, the muscles in his jaws flexing. “I loathe you.”
As the words left Cassian’s mouth, his large palm met Finnian’s pec. The contact was a collision ringing violently through his bones, a shrill scream blaring in his head.
Finnian cried out. The curse mixed with his blood, infesting every molecule, every crease of his brain, like the scouring of tiny insects burrowing and scratching their way into muscle and tissue, settling deep, deep, until a heaviness latched onto his soul.
He felt the mark brand his skin and crawl up his collarbone and over his neck—a boiling, mind-numbing agony. The muscles in his arms spasmed, and he slumped forward, his weight supported by the chains and Cassian’s hand against his pec.
That familiar illusory abyss clipped the edges of his vision.
Who do you loathe most?
“You—” Pain jolted through his temples. He winced. Like a spreading blight, he felt the clear sharpness, the proud methodical structure of his mind's web under its force. Another whimper left him.
Cassian leaned in, his lips hovering at the shell of Finnian’s left ear. “What was that?”
“You.” Finnian jerked his chin up, looking over Cassian’s shoulder, his eyes set on the moss growing in the arteries of the wall. “You are the one I loathe the most.”
3
THE TEMPLE
Cassian
The Past
Cassian teleportedto the front platform of one of his temples in the Mortal Land. The basalt columns were flanked by trellises of black roses. Firelight flickered in the basin beside the arched iron doors. An idyllic, overblown statue of what the mortals thought Cassian’s appearance was—scowling and cloaked—guarded the entrance of the temple.
He looked over his shoulder through the dusky haze and into the streets of the town. A few carriages dallied by. The footfalls of the travelers padded along the pathway. Trails of smoke weaved into the sky, crawling up from chimneys. The faint smell of firewood and seasoned meats drifted through the air.
Since the young god’s departure in the apothecary a few days ago, Cassian had done well to keep track of his whereabouts. It appeared Finnian did not have a place to call home. He wandered from one small town to the next. Just as Cassian sniffed him out, he’d create an annoying distance between them once again.
Cassian blew out a sigh as he faced the temple’s doors. He did not find it a coincidence that the young god had brought him here. Inside its walls, he could sense Finnian’s aura—bold and bright and thrumming with magic.
He stepped inside and found the young god, to no surprise, standing atop the altar where his worshipers gave offerings. All were strewn off and scattered over the stone floor—wooden bowls, spilled fruits, incense snuffed giving a delightful aroma of frankincense, cracked jars of seeping honey, spilled pots holding plants and flowers, and the burned remains of what appeared to be several chickens.
Cassian stopped at the entrance and took in the young god. His hair was cut shorter than Cassian had last seen it. The strands were now streaked with light brown and met the underside of his jaw.
“Why hello, Little Nightmare.”
Finnian’s gaze constricted, sharpening the shape of his eyes, and he held his chin up. “Stop chasing me, or I will send all your temples to the same fate.”
Cassian ran a thumb over his bottom lip, scrutinizing the audacious young god standing on his altar. “All you have to do is stop reviving my souls and I will gladly leave you be.”
