What if he’s hurt?
What if it is a situation I cannot fix?
What if the mage trapped him already?
Cassian’s blood ran cold.
He backed up on his heel, already rearranging his appearance to his shape-shifted form as Everett. His divine power coiled around him like sinuous limbs, with flashes of golden light illuminating the billowy blackness.
He gave each of his most loyal subordinates a look, expressing what he could not say before teleporting away.
I must go to him.
10
DEATH
Finnian
The Present
Cassian teleportedthem from the temple into a room made of the same glossy obsidian walls. Velour sofas were arranged under floor-to-ceiling windows, displaying the Land of the Dead’s radiant wisteria and achromatic sky.
The Cimmerian stone, smooth and dark as night, brought back memories of the onyx architecture in his beloved city. A sense of homesickness sank heavily in Finnian’s stomach.
He had been stuck in the Land of the Dead for five years. A sweeping second in the life of a deity, but to a mortal, it was a long time. If Runa had obeyed his orders, his organizations would now follow Naia.Onlyhis sister, notRonin. Finnian found small joy in antagonizing the leader of the Blood Heretics for his relentless attempts to overthrow his own rule of Hollow City.
Ash would be five years old. Did he favor Naia’s personality or Ronin’s more? What did he enjoy doing? Did the art of witchcraft excite him?
Finnian’s heart constricted, aching in his chest as he imagined the child with Naia’s silver hair and Ronin’s deep, dark eyes, finding solace in his streets.
Cassian strolled ahead into the room, waving to the frosted-glass door on the back wall. “Clean yourself up through there. You have ten minutes.”
Finnian pressed his tongue against the backs of his teeth and started towards the bathroom, eager to isolate himself and unmask his emotions—and try to process everything that had happened in the last few hours.
Without a second thought, he shut the door behind him.
The room was similar to the one on the outside—black walls with smooth edges, a toilet, and a walk-in shower. For whatever reason a High God like Cassian would need such things was beyond Finnian. Perhaps it was similar to how Naia was with food, or maybe he relished the simple pleasure of a hot shower, the warm water spilling over his tired body.
The visual of a nude Cassian filled Finnian’s mind, causing his cheeks to prickle.
He forcefully banished the image and shifted his attention to the vanity. Sitting on its buttery-smooth surface was a pile of jewelry, his hearing aid, and a neatly folded stack of clothes.
Before he proceeded in doing anything else, he stepped up to the shower and flipped on the water, letting it run. Cassian’s home was too quiet. There were no creaks and moans, the way a typical house sounded. It reminded him too much of the stiff silence within Mira’s palace.
He assessed thebidziilcrystal of his full-shell hearing aid for any signs of damage, running his fingers over its smooth edges, examining its heliotrope body for any cracks or bruises.
The crystal was rare and only produced in a specific area of the Mortal Land. After several years of research and gatheringingredients, he successfully created the device using a spell he’d perfected from scratch.
He slid the device into his ear canal. The transition was immediate, like being stuck inside the eye of a storm before it finally dissipated. The world had opened up once more.
However, the sound of the running water in the shower came to him like he was listening to it on speaker through a cell phone. It wasn’t quite right. An issue he’d dealt with once, when he’d created the magical device and wore it in his ear for the first time.
It appeared, after five years, his brain was going to need a moment to process the unnatural translation of his hearing aid. With time, he was confident it would level out.
Finnian exhaled. While it was not the result he’d hoped for, he was grateful to have it in his possession, fully intact. He assumed Cassian would return it to him in pieces.
One less thing to worry about.
