What do I say? "We've kissed." I clear my throat. "He's an ass most of the time."
Delilah laughs. "After we left you, Luciara wondered how much you bickered."
"Quite a bit." I answer.
"Chronomir said that it might be difficult to find Athanasius," Rose sighs, crossing her legs. "He says most are lax to enter into contract with death."
"Well," Caspian shrugs, leaning back in his chair with the charm of a man who knows he gets pussy. "Think about what humans think of death. Usually cults arise from that. Worship, fear, obsession—it’s all very dramatic.”
They trade thoughts like philosophers dissecting a myth, teachers explaining a theme, but they're talking about someone I've touched. Kissed. Who holds me at night like I'm something precious to him. Someone whose presence doesn’t make me tremble, just roll my eyes. I shift uncomfortably in my seat as their words grow heavier. They aren’t insulting him. They aren’t even wrong. But there’s something strange about how they speak of him—like Athanasius is a shadow in the room they’ve waited to see grow knowing what comes along with that.
To me, he’s… different. "I've never..." My voice comes slow and unsure. "Athanasius has never been like that to me."
"Really?" Caspian lifts a brow, intrigued. "Moireth tells tales of Athanasius like he's… well, death incarnate." He chuckles. “Incinerate folks with a look. Real Wrath-of-God stuff.”
Delilah, lounging near the edge of the counter, pulls one of her curly strands around her finger and nods. “Cuts heads off for fun. Did it once over a hymnal.”
I open my mouth to respond, but the sound of footsteps silences me.
The air shifts.
The siblings are back.
Athanasius enters the room. Luciara, Moireth, and Chronomir follow behind, quiet, as if letting him reclaim the gravity of the room.
“Same stories,” Athanasius says, his tone deceptively casual. “Different versions.” His eyes cut toward his siblings avatars. “All of them true.”
His voice sends a chill down my spine—not because it’s frightening, but because of the weight it carries. Where it stops I'm not going to talk about because that's inappropriate for right now. It's my lady parts. How does he do that?
Athy doesn’t deny the things they’ve said. “I am death. To some, that’s a horror. To others, a release. Perspective defines the fear.” He walks around the counter to stand next to me. “And if those mage cowards think they can meddle in fate—pull strings where they have no fingers—I’ll carve their spines out and weave them into garlands for their altar. Let’s see what their gods or holy books say then.”
There's something wrong with me why do I find the morally gray so attractive?
Caspian lets out a low whistle. “And there’s the Death and Darkness we all know and love.”
Moireth sighs, rubbing their temple. “Please don’t actually make garlands. The last time you did that—”
Chronomir slumps slightly in his seat. “It was a dark month.”
Athanasius ignores the commentary and turns toward me, he's smiling, and taps my nose attempting to be cute. “Now is the time to discuss our approach. If he's planning what I suspect—he'll expect interference. They just won’t expectyou.” His gaze lingers on me longer than necessary. "Caspian is an accomplished archer and fighter, we have a shifter and a werewolf, and then my unassuming human." He's not being possessive, which is odd for him—but like he’s measuring the inevitability of me.
“Let’s begin."
Chapter sixteen
Stay Still, Rabbit
Ione
"Wait,everyonehereisaccomplished at some fighting capability, or can turn into animals. I'm a human," I stutter. "Not remarkable in any way."
Luciara smiles. "You are, trust me, you'll be fine."
"Once we have his location, we can move." Athanasius continues, ignoring my nervous plight. "The others will take care of any obstacles in our way," Looking down at me, he continues. "You and I, rabbit, will make our way to him."
Chronomir takes a deep breath and speaks. "Every mage has a staff, destroy the staff and the mages power wanes." His soft eyes stare at me. "You can touch the staff, you can destroy it, we cannot."
"By doing what?" I scoff. "Slamming it on the ground?"
