Page 9 of The Blood of Gods and Monsters

I will release her from the shackles that bind her to the Underworld and I will slaughter anyone who stands in my way.

Caedmon sits back, reclining against the cushions of the lounge as he veers his gaze from me to Kiera and Theos and then over our shoulders, no doubt, to our final brother. Kalix, to my surprise, remains silent as he stands like a shadow against the wall. He hasn’t made a sound since this conversation started, and I expect he’s watching both Caedmon and Ophelia with more than his eyes. Of the three of us, he sees just as much beyond the realm one can perceive with their eyes. I hope he sees something we can use.

“The Gods are not Gods at all,” Caedmon says, repeating what Kiera had said earlier. “We came here from another world, one in which we were not the most powerful.”

“Why?” Theos bites out. “Why did you come here?”

I remain silent, curious about the answer.

“There was a war,” Caedmon says quietly. “Our Kingdom … it was falling. Different beings far greater than us, that could control more than we could—more than the weather, but the very structure of the world itself, ripped through the ocean in which our people built our society. Our cities collapsed. Our people drowned, burned, died.”

The more he speaks, the more faraway his eyes grow, the life in them fading as if he’s looking deep into his past and finding only darkness and horror. I’d seen that kind of look before—recognized it in myself the first time I looked into a mirror after Azai had slaughtered my mother. I cut that thought off before it can bloom into the memory.

“That still doesn’t explain how you came to be here, in this world,” Kiera says quietly.

“I could not say how or why the two worlds were connected, but as the last of our people gathered upon the final city—survivors pouring in and our own magic burning bright with the fear and hope of thousands—the fabric of our original world split open and a rift opened between the two spaces. Back then, Tryphone was a new King. His father had been killed amidst the battles with the other creatures. He led us—those who had survived into the tear. He assumed that any place would be better than where we were, pushed to the brink of extinction.”

Tryphone had been right then. Because now they were here in this world and they were no longer a species being slaughtered, but the predators at the top of the food chain, ruling over everyone else. I keep my thoughts to myself, though, waiting for Caedmon to finish even as my blood heats with rage. The Gods had come into this world and overtaken it, lied to the populace of their greatness, and for what? The answer, I suspect, is obvious.

Why would a people persecuted and driven to the edge by beings more powerful than they come to a new world and overtake it? Because they feared repeating the past, and what better way to prevent themselves from becoming oppressed than by becoming the oppressors themselves.

“The stone that you know as brimstone—the original mountain of it—was shattered open and from it, we crawled into this new place,” Caedmon continues. “The first days were … horrific. The people here were far less advanced and they feared us. Their language was different from our own and communication between our two peoples was a struggle at best. As a whole, we were traumatized. We feared that our pursuers would chase us here and when they didn’t, we were too scared to hope. The brimstone mountain could not be destroyed, and for some reason—that which I do not know, perhaps something to do with the rift that was created within the stone—our magic was rejected by the stone and it became something that could harm us.

“As our days grew longer here and we acclimated to the society of this world, we came to understand that this land was devoid of magic. It had life, but the humans living in this world had no concept of controlling elements or the like. The first people who came across us labeled us as Gods, and after a while, we saw no reason to correct them.”

“What’s changed?” I ask. “If the … Gods,” I hesitate on the word, but as I have no other title for them, I simply settle on what I know, “have acclimated to this world, what has altered? What have they taken too far?”

Caedmon closes his eyes and shakes his head as if ridding himself of the memories he shared with us. When they reopen and settle on me, they are shadowed. I squash the sympathy I feel rising. Liars and deceivers don’t deserve my sympathy. A sudden reminder that I am also both stabs at the back of my mind, but I ignore it.

“Our people were never meant to be immortal,” he admits. “We are long-lived, yes. Hundreds of years long, but we are not infallible. Because of that and because we are Gods to the people of Anatol, Tryphone feared what would happen if it was found out that our people died naturally. Therefore, he has…” Caedmon swallows roughly and looks to the tabletop before him before continuing. “There is a way for our kind to extend our lifespans and to remain youthful.”

A wave of ice washes over me. Palpable and familiar. Fear. To my utter surprise, Kiera leans forward as if she doesn’t feel it. “What is it?” she demands. “What do they do to extend their lifespans?”

Caedmon’s voice drops low and the room fills with a tension so thick that it wraps ugly tendrils around my throat, squeezing the breath from my lungs. I wait, my gaze burning into the being before me—the man that I once trusted more than any other God. No, false Gods.

“Magic,” Caedmon answers so quietly that I must strain my ears to hear him clearly despite the choking of air in my throat. “Divinity as you know it.”

“That doesn’t tell me anything,” Kiera snaps, her voice almost hoarse with frustration.

Caedmon’s face pinches tight, his brows creasing together and his lips curling down to form lines bracketing either corner. He opens his mouth and then closes it again, grinding his jaw. I watch him carefully, confused by what I see. It’s as if some geas, a vow of silence, is keeping him from revealing too much no matter how much he wishes to speak.

With long drawn-out breath, Caedmon unclenches his jaw and then lifts his gaze—first to hers and then to mine, where he holds. His stillness is unnatural. Disturbing. “Tryphone refuses to lose any more of his own people. The decisions he has made to protect the Upper Gods and the God Council are immoral. They are cruel and they are … wrong.”

When Caedmon closes his eyes after that statement, he looks years—decades—older than he’s ever seemed before. He reopens them and fixes them on Kiera. “A sacred taboo has been broken by us—the Gods as you know us—and the time has long since passed for it to be stopped. It should have never begun in the first place.” Shadows dance beneath the God of Prophecy’s eyes. They whisper of horrors and dread and death and carnage. Still, he doesn’t tell us what it is that they do or what taboo they have broken.

“What is it that you’ve done?” Kiera’s question, I’m sure, echoes all of our thoughts.

Silence is her only answer.

She curses under her breath and then shoots a glare at the man. “How can we do anything if you don’t tell us?”

“Regardless of whether I reveal the act that must not be performed,” Caedmon says, lifting a hand to his brow as if his temples are aching. His fingers tremble with the effort. A sick feeling rises in my gut. “You will be the one to stop it.”

My head reels from what he’s already said and as Kiera curses again, her voice an angry wave of annoyance and, yes, a little bit of fear, I consider the questions that permeate my mind. The Gods are not Gods? Their immortality is a façade? Does that mean that we, as their children, are no different? No, perhaps they are still Gods—after all, the definition is of a worshipped icon, and in this world, that is what they are. They may call themselves whatever they wish, but in this world where we were all birthed, they are the cruel Divine Beings that have ruled for centuries.

Tension builds as Caedmon slowly lowers his hand and when his gaze connects with mine once more, over Kiera’s shoulder. Words fail me. My mind empties of all thought. My muscles sag and I have to reach out, clasping my hand over the top of Kiera’s chair as I meet his eyes with understanding.

I’m right. I don’t know how I know it, but I do. It is not that Caedmon won’t say the truth, it’s that he cannot. Dear … realm of the Divine. What is the taboo?

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