He peered out at the eldritch, grim tree line of the Serpentine Forest. Nebulous fog bellowed up from its ground and into the branches of the beech trees.
“He steals my souls.” The words left his mouth forcefully, full of hostility, hoping he could somehow convince himself of the detestation he wished to feel for the young god. “Forces them to remain in their deteriorating corpses, all because of his personal objection to death. Traps them in a rock and holds them hostage.”
“You disagree with his actions,” Nathaira said, her calm and composed demeanor only fanning his childish anger. “But you understand them as well.”
His gaze fell upon the polished planks of the bridge. Iliana’s insistence on balance lingered in his thoughts. “Understanding his actions does not mean I can stand by and allow them to happen.” Overall, he agreed with the Council’s orders. Imbalance would lead to catastrophe in the Mortal Land.
Nathaira planted a palm on his back, her friendly gesture reaching down inside of him and dissolving some of his frustration. “It is okay to care about him, my lord.”
Shivani, thankfully finished with her apple, stepped up to his other side. “I have known you for two millennia and have never seen you this troubled over cursing someone.”
Cassian brought his elbows to the railing and hunched over, dropping his face in his hands. The pressure to restore balance clenched his chest, along with the giddy awareness gleaming in Ruelle’s eyes.
Nathaira’s hand slid up to his shoulder. Shivani rested her cheek on the side of his other arm.
He’d had plenty of opportunities to curse Finnian, but he’d held back each time. A reservation in his body that he didn’t comprehend. A guttural feeling that he couldn’t help but act on. Perhaps the outcome of cursing Finnian would lead to his own torment.
He shook his head, pressing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “I cannot care about him.”
“Then what will you do?” Nathaira asked with a wisdom that indicated to Cassian that she already knew the answer.
Cassian pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Before he could respond to her, a sudden, startlingswooshinterrupted.
“My lord.” The sense of urgency in Mavros’s tone was disconcerting.
Cassian lowered his hands and rotated to face his attendant. Nathaira and Shivani did the same. “What is it?” he asked.
Distress etched deep lines on Mavros’s brow. “You told me to report the young god’s movements if they were dire.”
Cassian’s pulse jumped. “Yes?”
“A situation has come up.”
Mavros hesitated for a moment, his gaze shifting to Nathaira and Shivani, before leaping back onto Cassian.
Cassian stepped towards Mavros, fear blowing through his insides. “For gods’ sake, Mavros, what?—”
“Lady Mira sent Lord Malik, Lord Vex, and Lady Astrid, along with a hired mage, to ambush the young god.”
Cassian processed the information at lightning speed, shaking his head. “He is agod. He cannot die. What could her outcome possibly be?”
“The goal is to entrap him with a spell cast by the mage.”
Cassian’s heart sprang up in the base of his throat at the idea of Finnian suffering at the hands of his appalling siblings, entrapped in an ancient relic and the vigorous defiance in his eyes extinguishing entirely. “What is the situation now?”
“It appears they are at the young god’s home on the outskirts of a small village known as Elmwood, located in the Western Hemisphere of the Mortal Land. He lives in the cemetery there with two other mages, but they are not holding up well.”
The muscles in Cassian’s arms and shoulders went rigid as he fisted his hands. “What of his undead creatures? Are they not assisting him?”
Mavros cleared his throat, looking anywhere but directly at Cassian. “You and the Errai relinquished all his souls during your last encounter with him. Since, we have had no reports of any missing souls.”
Cassian cursed under his breath.
He knew this. It was a good thing. So why in the hell was he so bothered by it? The young god was agonizingly cunning. Had he not thought ahead?
What will you do?
Cassian rubbed at his forehead, feeling the tension squeeze up his neck. His eyes flitted around the bridge’s smooth wood in sync with his racing thoughts, all twisting in his stomach.
