Page 12 of The Arcane God

There were so many unknowns, and though Ty didn’t seem too worried, she soon caught him stroking his beard in apprehension as he, too, watched the snow fall, and fall, and fall. It almost reminded her of…

The distant memory came back to her, like a bubble of air pushing to the surface of the Sacred Pool. She remembered a story—the one Greya used to tell her as children whenever there was a bad storm. A story of mortals…from the other side of the Chasm Mountains. They’d been trapped in a snowstorm just like this, with the Aquilo seer.

She’d always dismissed the story as myth, especially as she’d gotten older and realized how rare it was to actually meet a mortal from the other side of the Chasm Mountains. Then, of course, she’d met Ty and thought he was one, until she’d learned that daemons simply posed as mortals from the other side of the Chasm Mountains. But now, after everything she had learned…maybe that story did hold a nugget of truth somehow. She knew there actually were people on the other side of the Chasm Mountains, so maybe the other parts were true too. She dug through her memory, trying to remember the story…

She remembered that the Aquilo seer had gone to save them, and that the mortals in the story were in danger and looking for help. And, given the way this storm seemed to be never-ending, maybe the storms that had supposedly plagued them had been real too.

“What are you thinking about?” Ty asked, reaching over to affectionately grab her thigh.

“Just…this story Greya used to tell me,” Ena said, trying to brush off the eerie déjà vu of it all.

“What story?” Ty asked.

“Yeah, tell us, Ena,” Turner chimed in enthusiastically, scooching closer to her like an excited child. “Not like we have anything better to do,” he added, gesturing at the storm.

Ena smiled despite their circumstances. “I don’t really remember it all, but it was about mortals from the other side of the Chasm Mountains. Ones who were caught in a bad snowstorm for days with a seer from Aquilo who had seen them and come to save them, and then…she fell in love with one of them.”

“Really?” Ty asked. “Is it a true story?”

“I didn’t think so,” Ena said. “But now I’m wondering the same thing. If it is, maybe they weren’t mortals at all. Maybe they were Omnis worshippers. But the storm in the story…it lasted for days.”

Ena swallowed, and the three of them went quiet. The prospect of the storm lasting that long had them all a bit on edge, but if the story were true, then it was possible.

Ty pulled Ena tighter to him. “Tell us the story, viper. It’ll pass the time.”

“Okay,” she said, trying to shake off the sense of discomfort that had descended over them. If nothing else, it would be a good distraction from their current situation.

Ena began the story, trying to remember all the details she could, but it came back to her in bits and pieces, and a few times she had to go back, filling in some gaps that she hadn’t mentioned. Ty and Turner listened raptly as she spoke, until eventually, the sun started to go down, and darkness shrouded their hideout.

All the while, the storm raged on.

They ate a little bit more before cozying up together around their fire and preparing for sleep. As she nestled into Ty as the little spoon, she realized that while telling the story had made her a bit nervous, it had also somehow…comforted her. It brought thoughts of Greya and her childhood—thoughts of home. Even though it wasn’t really her home anymore, and with the baby on the way, she wasn’t sure if it ever would be again. She hoped that Greya could convince the rest of the Coven to believe all they’d learned about the binding spell and be more accepting of daemons, or half-daemons, but there was no guarantee they’d allow her, Ty, and their baby to live there together.

Right now…there was nowhere for them to go but onwards, deeper into the mountains.

Her mind turned to Greya and Perse anyway, though, and she began to wonder how they were doing after everything that had happened—Heran’s death, Greya’s Ascension as matriarch…how were they holding up after all that? She wanted desperately to talk to them, to cling to that last small piece of home-that-was-no-longer-home. She missed them, and part of her longed to use the vial of water from the Sacred Pool that Greya had given her to talk to them, but she knew she had to save it in case of an emergency.

Ty reached out with his arm, putting it around her wordlessly as if sensing her thoughts, pulling her deeper into him. It comforted her, and she leaned into him, smelling his familiar scent around her.

She closed her eyes and soon began to drift asleep, and as she did, she thought of being warm in her bed, in Heran’s house, with Ty next to her, and Greya and Perse in the next room. And her baby, that mysterious entity inside of her, sleeping soundly in its crib, its beating heart echoing strongly around the room, as a storm raged outside.

Chapter Six

Greya

The candle on the table burned low, dripping into the nearly full wax pan. Greya’s eyes were starting to blur as she sorted through more of Heran’s journals and record books. She’d been methodically going through them over the last few weeks since the old matriarch had passed—making sure she was up to date on any of Heran’s outstanding trades with the surrounding villages and catching up on all the Coven history and knowledge that had been recorded in the matriarch’s journals. Not to mention giving away her clothes, her furniture, and in general dealing with all the tedium that was inextricable from the grief of loss.

The Coven had naturally been shocked and saddened to hear of Heran’s passing—ostensibly occurring in her sleep. But the reality of it—the truth that they didn’t know—ate at Greya.

Because instead of passing peacefully in her sleep, her mentor—her caretaker, her matriarch—had died confused and afraid in the middle of the Sacred Grove, terrified by the daemons that had descended upon her Coven.

Of course, there was much Heran hadn’t understood—or maybe hadn’t wanted to understand—but still…it didn’t erase the fact that her death had not been a peaceful one. It had been shocking and traumatic, and Greya still heard Heran’s final words echoing in her head almost daily.

His Power destroys.

Greya didn’t regret her part in the breaking of the bond, despite the guilt that dogged her. She Knew what she, Ena, and the other witches had done was the right thing for everyone—that it was what Gaia demanded. But getting the rest of her Coven to understand that…well, that was her challenge. She was not sure how they would receive the information, even if it came from her, their soon-to-be matriarch.

And, if she were being honest, sometimes, given her part in it all and the secrets she kept, she questioned if she was worthy of the role. She had broken their trust when she had gone rogue to help Ena and the daemons. Her actions, justified or not, had led to Heran’s unexpected death.