The young god stood barricaded by the vacant corpses of his ghouls, unafraid, careless, facing Cassian, of all deities.
It was painfully stupid, but Cassian couldn’t make sense of the uncertainty clouding his ability to put this young god in his place. Finnian’s confidence was infuriating. And yet, a decisive knot clenched in his gut when he thought about cursing him.Why?
The moment in the tavern flashed in his mind. Finnian did not hesitate to intervene for the young woman’s sake. And in the alleyway when he revived the dog. The young god had a goodheart, and for some preposterous reason, Cassian felt compelled to protect it.
“I do not wish to curse you,” Cassian said. “Stop hoarding my souls. All you have to do is agree.”
“Never.” Finnian lowered his chin, shrinking the visibility of his eyes beneath their lids. He stood fearlessly, the moonlight pouring across his dark hair. A remarkable sight.
Cassian yearned to chip away at his bold demeanor and expose his true emotions. “You let go of Arran. He returned to the Land.”
Finnian’s nostrils flared at the mention of his past lover, another sign of his anger. “Because that is what he wished.”
“You are unlike what I had imagined—cruel, hungry for power.” Cassian’s brow crumbled as he tried to reason with the young god. “You hold on to souls because you do not like endings.”
“Is that what you think?” Finnian laughed, the sound harsh, cutting. “That I do notlongto torment those who have wronged me? My horrid mother and rotten siblings? I dream of all the ways I wish to make them suffer.” He inclined his head, bloodlust flashing in the sharp slit of his smirk. “Let me assure you,Lord Cassian, my heart is infinitely darker than you believe it to be.”
Cassian didn’t buy it. After their pleasant evening amongst the fireflies and moonflowers, he’d seen it. There was a softness in Finnian that he hid with apathy.
“And what of the souls you hold on to?” Cassian challenged, taking a step towards the stream. “Are you cruel to them?”
A frown tugged at the corners of Finnian’s mouth.A crack.
Satisfaction hummed in Cassian as he continued to push. “You care for them. You hang onto them because you are afraid of being alone.”
“They live at the hands of Fate, Ruelle and her twisted control, and meet tragic, nonsensical ends.” He bared his teeth as he spoke, his face contorting viciously. “Some never experience love or warmth. All because of the bodies they didn’t ask to be born into. They crawl through life for no other means than to survive. Some last a few months, others maybe a set number of years. In the end, they die and that is it.” A cynical sound scuffed out of him. “Tell me,Ruler of Death, what is the point of such despair?”
Cassian swallowed, his heart pinching. He had thousands of years’ worth of abhorrent memories. From his own life, from the souls he touched. No one understood life’s tragedies better than him. He’d witnessed it time and time again, as he had a landscape of his realm dedicated to the wandering souls, broken and too traumatized to move on from the pain they’d endured in their mortal lives.
The complexities of life, the purpose of balance, neither were his to understand.
“There is peace in my realm.” Cassian’s tone was gentle, assuring. He was convinced that cursing Finnian would only make his grim outlook on life and death worse. “It is not cold and they do not hurt for what they have lost.”
Finnian shook his head. “I do not care what you say. I will continue to hold onto souls.” Another foul smirk crossed over his lips. The harshness of it stabbed Cassian in the stomach like a kris. “For no other reason than to spite you for what you have taken from me.”
Cassian sensed the finality of his words and materialized across the bank, throwing his arm out to catch him. “Don’t!”
Scarlet tufts plumed in the air, their wisps furling around Cassian’s empty, clenched fist.
8
PEONY BLOSSOMS
Finnian
The Present
The glowing densityof Finnian’s magic dispersed throughout the temple, like arrows raining down from the cathedral ceiling. Cassian’s form flickered and disappeared. The purple, cracking bolts hit the obsidian walls, deflecting and shattering like glass.
Finnian cursed under his breath and slid off the altar. Reaching his hand out, he latched onto the magical properties of the fire in their basins and jumped from the platform, simultaneously curling his fingers into a fist, holding onto the firelight’s energy. The flames lunged from the basins and intertwined in the middle of the temple.
With a sharp thrust of his arm, the firelight swelled and roared across the reflective stone, a vibrant, blood orange cloud billowing smoke, incinerating.
Finnian dashed across the sanctuary towards an entryway flanked with spired columns, their peaks sharp as pikes.
The length he could venture from the person he was bound to depended upon the length they allowed. The first thing Finnianneeded to do was to test that length. How far could he go without being forced back to Cassian?
He raced down a wide staircase, assuming it led to the temple’s basement.
