Another woman stood four tombstones away from Vex. She was tall with dark skin and frizzy, brunette curls.
Cassian watched as she arranged her arms to grip a collective of stardust, glittering sunset red, in the shape of a bow and arrow.
She took aim and let the dazzling arrow fly for Vex. His divine speed wasn’t enough to evade it as it pierced through his shoulder, the force knocking him back on his feet.
He rolled his neck, the motion ruffling his wavy, silver strands over his forehead and cheeks. A dark smile split apart his lips, revealing a perfect row of white teeth. “My turn now.” He started towards her.
Isla’s features softened abruptly. She lowered her arms, eyes fixed on Vex in a strange awe. The muscles in her shoulders relaxed. Her lips parted, and she extended her arm to reach for him.
“Isla, look away—” Finnian’s roar was cut off by a horrid choking sound as Malik shoved a blade into his mouth.
“Does it hurt,Finny?” Malik carved deeper into his throat. Blood gushed like a busted ravine down his chin, over Malik’s knuckles, forming long dribbles between the length of his wrists and boots.
Cassian’s spine went rigid. Consumed by fury, his mind became a twisted labyrinth, conjuring up the most sinister scenarios to inflict upon the triplets.
Taking a step, his divine power swirled around him. His destination was between Malik and Finnian.
A set of fingers curled around Cassian’s bicep and lurched him back before he could teleport.
He recognized the nefarious, nerve-wracking aura that belonged to his brother. “Unhand me, Acacius.”
Acacius let go, stepping back with his hand raised as a gesture of peace. “I sensed you were about to do something foolish. Glad to know I was right.”
Cassian gave Acacius a once-over in his cloaked frame. At his side, he hung onto his beast skull mask by one of its bony horns. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to pay you a visit as you were departing. Mavros told me of your location.” Acacius’s brow pinched as he looked at the chaos in the graveyard and then back at Cassian. “Do not intervene, Brother. Let the mage entrap him.”
It was the wisest choice. Not only that, but it would be inappropriate for a High God of the Council to intervene in trivial matters, such as a family squabble. It was precisely why Cassian had shape-shifted into the appearance of Everett before arriving.
Standing by and watching Malik gut Finnian was also not an option.
Cassian scowled at his brother. “I did not ask for your advice.”
“The Council is counting on you to restore the balance.” He said it as a reminder, a form of guilt-stricken persuasion.
Cassian’s hand came up to his hair, his insides wrenching. “I am aware,” he snapped.
“I can see you care for him,” Acacius said in a softer tone. “Leave it be. This way, you do not have to curse him.”
Cassian studied the admonishing look Acacius wore. His eyes held a knowing that was almost unbearable.
For a moment, Cassian allowed the future to play out in his head—one where he did nothing. The two young girls would more than likely end up dead. Two individuals who it was clear Finnian cared a great deal for. It was the only explanation for why he was not fighting as recklessly as he typically did.
In the end, the mage, who Cassian presumed was the body lying unconscious, would eventually wake up and entrap him. Things would go back to how they were.
A guttural scream rang out. Tremors rumbled the ground, rattling the tombstones.
Cassian spun to find Finnian’s left arm fully regenerated, his flexed hand raised over his head.
A blinding, webbed chasm birthed from his palm and towered over the cemetery. His fingers curled into a fist and the beaming core at its center exploded outward, erupting into the air like blue magma before sinking into the ground around them. “Vivifica!”
Hands burst through the earth’s surface as if it were made of paper, and corpses emerged from their graves across the cemetery.
“Ah, what a neat little trick.” Acacius crossed his arms and leaned against a tree as he observed with intrigue.
In his entire life, Cassian had never experienced such a strong combination of repulsion and pride. It made sense now why Mavros had not reported any missing souls. Finnian had not been hoarding them in his necklace, like in Augustus. Finnian had honed his power since then, about to pull up the souls and imbue them into their corpses during the moments heneeded them. The young god hadn’t stolen those souls—not yet at least.
What a clever brat.
