The crowd of souls parted, making way for his attendant.
Cassian held his arm out and formed his divine energy into a gleaming globe within the palm of his hand. The outside looked as if it were made of glass, but its center pulsed in milky black waves.
Mavros approached, clasping his hands together. He stopped in front of Cassian and closed his eyes, pointing his head down towards his mentor’s feet.
In a gentle motion, Cassian grasped his fingers around the orb and squeezed until it shattered, releasing the vaporous energy inside. The onyx smoke swirled like ribbons and spun around Mavros’s head twice before entering through the skin between his eyes.
“It is done,” Cassian murmured, sharing a small moment between them.
Mavros bowed his chin, acknowledging Cassian with more respect than he’d ever deserved.
He was proud of the Land, everything he had created, and he knew Mavros held a heart inside him built just like his own. The souls of the world would continue to find their rest.
“All hail, Mavros, High God of Death and Curses.”
The souls applauded and began chanting the song of the Land.
Mavros kept his head lowered. “I will not let you down, my lord.”
Cassian patted him on the shoulder. “I am not your lord anymore, Mavros. In fact, you are technically mine.”
He raised up and said, “You will always be my lord. My guidance.”
Cassian gave his shoulder a small squeeze and smiled. “If you need anything, I am only a summons away.”
“Go enjoy your long-awaited vacation, Cassian. You’ve earned it.”
Cassian turned to meet his lover’s gaze and extended his arm.
Finnian’s fingers glided over Cassian’s, hooking his grip around the heel of his palm.
Golden light poured over the land, and its rays spilled across Finnian, refracting off his olive-tan skin like gilded string. His eyes had not shined so brightly in a long, long time.
Go, the Land said.Be free.
35
ONE DAY
Finnian
Arms crossed,Finnian shook his head at the absurd monstrosity. A statue of himself eclipsed the midday sunlight in the center of Alke Square, the heart of Hollow City.
Cassian pointed at the divots on either side of the statue’s cheeks, his watch reflecting glints of passing vehicles and pedestrians. “Adorable,” he said. “You managed to get his dimples.”
Under glamor, his ivory strands were a warmer blond, the irises of his eyes were copper, and the angles of his features were less pronounced. Even as a middle god, Cassian was still known to all mortals and needed disguise.
Finnian sighed and looked over at his sister. “Are you going to raise statues of us all?”
Naia gave a shrug, giving him a sidelong glance, full of playfulness. “Only of those I love.” Her waist-length silver waves were the same onyx-black as Ronin’s, her height shorter, and she’d added small imperfections to her divine features—a longer nose, thinner lips. Apparently, the mortals flocked to her whenshe revealed herself outside of certain sectors of the city. It was an attention Finnian could tell she was still not used to yet.
Wearing glamor came like second nature to him. It was why the moment he dropped into the city with Cassian, his hair shifted to the same silver shade as Naia’s, and his features took on a more approachable cut, rather than a permanent scowl.
Finnian smiled and ran his fingers over the bronze plate at the foot of the statue that read:
Finnian, High God of Witchcraft and Sorcery, founder of Hollow City.
His heart squeezed. The city around them was not built by his hands alone.
