“You stupid boy. They are beneath us. You want to give them more? Like your little witches who run around and cause problems for the rest of us? Is that what you want? You spoil the gifts that you were given, handing them over to unworthy creatures who should be groveling at your feet. We are too powerful to ever give them what they want. Do you hear me?”
And still, Elric argued for them. “They deserve more than to grovel.”
“They deserve to tremble at my feet and thank me when I spit on them,” the Warrior King snarled. His eyes glowed red beneath that helmet. “We fought for this power. We earned it. They never would have survived the spell that gave us this. Never forget, Deathless One, that you were created by desperate women while the rest of us were worshipped from the beginning. We were born from the desires and dreams of thousands.”
With the barest of movements, the Warrior King snapped Elric’s neck.
Jessamine cried out. She even lunged forward, the brave and stupid woman that she was. She tried to grab for him, but the memory fellthrough her hands as he lay there on the floor, his neck at an odd angle while he gasped for breath. He watched himself claw at his throat, his hands turning into darkened claws that rent tears through his flesh as he tried and failed to stop himself from dying.
The Warrior King tilted his head back and breathed in the scent of fear that permeated the room. “Ah.” The old god drew out the sound of pleasure. “I do so love killing him.”
He strode back to his throne as Elric’s younger self stopped moving entirely. He just… died. Right there on the floor in front of them. Without even a whisper of a fight.
Jessamine fell onto her hands and knees beside the memory of him, shock stilling her tongue until she finally stammered. “Why? Why would you let them do this to you?”
He knelt on the other side of his body, tilting his head as he looked down at himself. “Because that was who I was. The Deathless One. They killed me hundreds of times, Jessamine. But I always came back.”
She seemed to struggle with something, some inner argument, until she finally blurted out, “Why would you show me any of this? What is this secret of the gods that you want me to know?”
“That we did not care for humans,” he replied, staring down at his own body. “And that I fear my destiny is to become them.”
Jessamine stared down at the dead version of Elric and held her breath with him. Why would he want her to see how horrible the gods were?
She twisted her shaking hands in the wrap that failed to keep her warm. “What?”
“Humanity viewed the gods as wonderful creatures who came down to help everyone. Not a single god here, not even me, really looked at humans as though they were worth helping. You were all tools. A means to an end. Even those who worshipped without question, and some who still worship my family even though there are many who shun them, those people would do anything for gods who did not care for them.”
He wasn’t looking at her, though. It was like he was saying the words to himself. To the broken man on the floor whose own family continued to talk while he died in front of them, frozen as he was.
And then the younger version of Elric gasped. His neck gave a sick crack, twisting back into place as his back arched and his eyes flew open. She recognized the pain there. The fear. The sudden realization that he wasn’t dead at all and the thunderous ache in his heart that said he had to run for no reason at all.
She remembered it. Because it was the same way she had felt when he’d raised her from the dead.
“But why?”
“Because they were shit gods,” he muttered, but then shook himself. “No, not just that. Because I wanted you to know that fighting for the godshas always been a fool’s errand. If anyone should know that, it was you. Losing them was the best thing that could have happened to humanity. It’s just… a lot of people don’t realize that yet.”
She frowned. “And that’s why you don’t want people to worship you? Is that why you’re so hesitant to grow the coven?”
She watched the words stick in his mouth. For a moment, he seemed terrified by his own thoughts until he finally relented. “No one deserves to be a god, Jessamine. Not even me.”
The memory faded around them, slowly but surely. And she looked at all the gods one more time. Who else would have the chance to see them like this? All of them still alive, still looking at the world with a shrewd gaze for what it could give them. Every single one of them made her uncomfortable, though. Each one of them was wrong in some way. Twisted and corrupted so much that it bled through their very pores.
Her bedroom came back into view. Elric still sat on her bed, staring down at his now-empty hands. She hated seeing him like this. Because she knew that there was still a part of him that was good.
But she was still so mad at him. So angry that he hadn’t told her how he’d stolen her very soul. Whodidthat? What kind of a person could do that to the person they loved?
“Thank you for sharing that with me,” she finally said, but then pointed to the door. “Now you can get out.”
A shaky, long breath expelled from his lungs. “If that’s what you want.” But then he paused at the door, looking back at her. “Do you miss us at all?”
“Desperately,” she replied. “But I am so angry at you that I cannot even think through the anger.”
He nodded once, twice, and then left.
Life without him was boring. She went to bed, she talked with the other witches, she learned what she could, all while feeling like she was in a fog. The worst part was that she did miss him. Terribly. She wanted nothing more than to be at his side, knowing what he was thinking about, what he was going through. She wanted to talk to him about every step shewas thinking of taking, and it frustrated her to no end to realize that she didn’t want to make big decisions without his approval.
Because she adored him. Because she genuinely believed that he had good opinions and he was, regularly, her voice of reason.
