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This isn’t the first time he’s given up his axe. But the first time I knew where it was and who possessed it.

To this day, I think he believes that I took his heart out of spite. But the truth is, Glinda asked me to. Back then, he loved that axe more than he loved anything else. At the time, I wasn’t sure what our mother’s reasons were. I thought maybe it was jealousy and truth be told, I was more than happy to be the dutiful son.

I was her star child, the one bristling with power, but Silas and Gabriel still won her attention. Over and over again, for no reason at all.

Maybe I am wrong—maybe I did take his heart for my own selfish gains. Maybe I wanted to steal his love from everyone else who had it.

Once his heart was gone, the axe no longer mattered, and Glinda took it upon herself to “protect it.”

But not long after, a Cardinal God was dead. And not long after that, the gods were gone.

I never had the nerve to confront her about it.

What I wanted to believe was that the God of the South was my father and she killed him for abandoning her and me.

“I came to give you a gift,” I tell Silas.

“I don’t want whatever it is you have.”

I snap my fingers and a bright red light ignites with a rush of air.

Silas looks up where I hold the fire of his heart in the palm of my hand.

He goes still. “After all this time?”

I’m trying not to feel anything at all, and yet I am overwhelmed with enough emotion for a thousand lifetimes and I fear I may be crushed beneath it.

“Do you want it back?” I ask him.

The bartender sets a glass down and disappears into the back, the doors swinging hastily with his retreat.

“No,” Silas answers, but there is an edge to this word that sounds an awful lot like hesitation.

“I will gladly give it back.”

He sniffs. “You’re alone in your grief, and your selfishness has brought you here.” He stands up, kicks the chair back, and walks around the table to me. We are not too dissimilar in height, but he is twice my size in weight. If he means to fight me, I am useless against the might of his brawn. I always had to rely on my power when we tussled as boys. But I feel empty tonight. Drained of anything that could be mighty.

“I never should have taken it from you,” I tell him.

“She’s using you, just like she used me.”

Glinda. What does he know? How much?

Deep down I know what he says is true. I’ve known it a long time. But I’m so deeply entwined in her machinations that I worry I will never get out.

I am my mother’s son. For better or worse.

“Take it,” I tell him.

“I don’t want it.”

“Take it!”

He grinds his molars together and stares at me, unmoving.

If he will not take it from me, then I will give it.

I snap my fingers again and the red flames gust and a ribbon rises up like smoke.