Finnian lifted up on his elbows to inspect them more.
They brightened and then dulled, like a beacon of small lights in the distance coming in and out of sight.
Like fireflies.
Finnian’s pulse flickered.
He recalled a memory: strolling along the bank of Augustus’s river, marveling at the moonflowers while foraging valerian. It wasn’t long when Cassian had ambushed him and they’d fought. It was the first time Finnian witnessed the High God relinquish all the souls within his ghouls. He’d chased Finnian around the forest, gutting the stream and tearing down the century-old oaks. A ruined paradise.
Finnian managed to escape, albeit with half of his flesh marred off from Cassian’s dreadful divine power that caused decay. The High God had come alarmingly close to cursing him that day. It was by pure luck Finnian had teleported before Cassian could get his hands on him.
Thisis how he remembered the memory, but the images invading in his mind of who he assumed was Everett, strolling alongside him, were foreign. A completely different form of reality he had no reminiscence of.
Finnian refocused on the specks, still convinced they were mimicking fireflies.
Why were they plastered across Cassian’s ceiling?
Do you see?
Finnian climbed to his feet on the mattress and stretched his arm towards them.
He siphoned the energy from the pinpricks, stripping away the magic shaping the shimmering particles. One by one, they vanished until it was an all-black, solid backdrop tenting over him.
Finnian’s face paled as the energy flowed into his veins—energy attached to a spell.
They’d been created with magic.Hismagic. He recognized his energy, the droplets of water living within the river of his own body. He’d been in this room before.
Do you recall that night in Augustus?
Another memory flashed in the forefront of his mind: the late-1800s interior of his townhome; the smoky aroma of singed herbs and the chilled air of the basement that he’d turned into an alchemy station; hundreds of brilliant sparkles surrounding him and…
I recall it every day.
This voice was different, one he was well acquainted with—low-pitched, smooth, somber. A glimpse of ivory-blond strands and a broad smile stood beside him, encompassed by a sea of jewels.
Is his soul here in the Land?
Finnian’s blood went frigid as a demand pinched in his gut. An insistence that dropped in his legs, begging him to move.
Yes.
Deities could shape-shift their appearances entirely. Why hadn’t he thought about the possibility before?
Finnian dropped his chin to assess the bed he stood on, as if the satin would peel back its threads and show him the memories it held.
He was your lover.
Finnian lifted his sharp gaze to the door with what felt like venom prickling in his veins.
He hopped off the mattress and started across the room.
He shuthis mind off and followed the feel of the invisible thread binding him to Cassian—an intuitive pull in his gut leading him down empty corridors and a wide stairwell. His fingers brushed the engravings of the spindles along the railing with each step. The black stone walls of the hall were etched with small streaks of dancing gold. Black, gold, black, gold—Finnian’s vexation grew from how plain and predictable Cassian’s palace was.
He was your lover.
Finnian’s eyes held onto the large glass door across the foyer.
Everett was your lover.
