He walked, the tips of his fingers rubbing against the pad of his thumb, his gaze shifting to the tranquil river running alongside him. The water was transparent and glimmered beneath the lingering golden hour. Souls lapped in the current of the River of Eden, luminescent masses of ghost-like whorls that reminded Finnian of the way an octopus carried themselves across the sea. These souls were migrating to the Land of Entity to reincarnate.
The idea seemed like such a ruthless cycle—to be reborn into an unfair world, forced to go through childhood and adolescence again, if they made it that far. It baffled Finnian by how little time a mortal received to mature when it had taken him no less than a century.
He continued down the path woven between the wisteria. Amongst the weeds sprouting around their trunks he identified hawthorn and goldenseal.
Back in his apothecary days, he’d often use the herbs to create draughts for mortals with high blood pressure and diabetes. For magical use, the blossom, stem, and root made excellent ingredients in many elixirs.
It took a generous amount of self-control for Finnian to silence the instinct within to pluck them.
He missed his freedom and his craft room, full of centuries of books he’d collected, grimoires he’d written with his own quill. His uninterrupted days surrounded by plants he’d spent decades cultivating; the steam billowing from his cauldron and climbing up the walls; a giddy tingle in his fingertips as he chopped and ground the greenery. Creating something from nothing gave him a sense of satisfaction that he was addicted to.
Mid-step, a thrash of pain blanched throughout his insides. He winced.
The binding potion.
Quickly, he stumbled back on his heels. The splitting agony spasmed in his organs, and he curled over with a hand on his stomach. “Fuck!” he grumbled.
Like a thick fog, the High God’s divine power emanated from the ground and coiled itself around his legs. Cassian was about to teleport him away.
A clear sign he’d gone too far outside the proximity Cassian allowed. It meant he was close to something he shouldn’t be.
Finnian snapped his head up, searching through the thickening smog. His eyes stretched along the River of Eden as far as they could reach, through lavender stalks, where it merged with the River of Souls.
Beyond it was a forest of bald cypress, beech trees, and evergreens. Smooth, pale branches reached over the deep green like elongated fingers. An opaque fog hovered over the forest like a cloud, monochrome and pale against the vibrancy of the sparkling river and lilac meadow.
The Serpentine Forest.
The gathering of energy dropped his stomach and lifted him from the ground. Cassian’s power swallowed him like a vortex and spit him out into a different terrain.
His conviction grew stronger than ever that Moros had to be on the other side of the Serpentine Forest.
Finnian clenched his fist, frustration burning in his blood. The invisible chain locking him to Cassian’s side felt tight, suffocating, like a collar. He detested being restrained.
Releasing a terse exhale, he straightened, relieved that the grueling squeeze of his insides had given way, and took in his new surroundings.
Before him was an olive-dusted highland covered in flowing, cornflower blue grass.
In the distance, he could see the basalt bluffs of the valley and the twinkling River wedged in between the village, the sounds of music and voices carrying from Caius.
Cassian’s ivory-blond strands caught his eye, glistening like a pale citrine against the backdrop of the champagne horizon.
The High God jogged in a large circle, chased by a pack of dogs at his heels.
He leisurely pulled back his arm, grasping a ball of tightly wound vines in his hand.
The ball flew gracefully through the air and the dogs raced across the field to fetch it.
Cassian stood back and watched, his demeanor more at ease than Finnian had ever seen. That singular curl over his forehead dangled in his eyes. His suit jacket was strewn aside on a branch of a nearby wisteria, and his waistline and toned shoulders were accentuated by the crisp button-up tucked into his tailored pants.
Finnian’s eyes floated up to the rosy tint of his cheeks and over the blissful grin spread across his face as the dogs trotted back.
Cassian stooped over slightly and took the ball from a golden retriever. The other dogs crowded around him.
“Good boy!” He petted their heads one by one. “You all did wonderful. But Linus, how about you let another have a chance this time?”
A flutter quivered in Finnian’s chest as he observed this version of him.
As if he sensed his presence, Cassian twisted his head towards Finnian. From a few meters away, Cassian’s eyes reflected in the honey-glow sunset, two golden gemstones dripping and filling Finnian’s ribcage.
