Page 51 of Flame and Sparrow

“Well, it’s Ramoth, actually,” the Ice God continued. “After some sacred mountain in some human kingdom, I think. But most of us just call the annoying, fluttery little thingMoth.”

It was fitting, I decided after watching the creature bounce about in the air for another moment; he did seem to flutter aimlessly—much like a moth unsure of how to get closer to a light it had glimpsed through a window. His coloring was similar to a common look of that insect, too; a mixture of different browns, with the palest shades featuring on his wings, his head, and the ruff of fur around his neck.

“And don’t feel too bad about the whole spontaneous combustion thing,” the God of Ice drawled on. “He just does that sometimes…particularly when he’s experiencing strong emotions—whether his or otherwise. An unfortunate design flaw caused by an unskilled creator.”

“An unskilled creator?” The God of Fire, he must have meant. What other deity would be responsible for a creature prone to bursting into flame? “Dravyn?” I questioned, making certain to use the expected, human moniker for him.

A corner of Valas’s mouth lifted. “Yes, he would be the one I was referring to. And you can tell him I said he was unskilled.”

The griffin let out a hiss, looking ready to fight on his creator’s behalf. I grabbed him as I got to my feet, lifting his light body so our eyes were level with one another’s.

“I’m sorry,” I told him. “Moth is a lovely name, and you’re a stunning creature. You know that, right?”

He puffed his fluffy chest out, flexing his wings to their full span and giving them a little shimmy.

Yes,I thought with a bemused smile.He certainly knows it.

He slipped free of my hold but didn’t go far, bobbing up and down beside me, occasionally turning lazy somersaults in the air.

I’d dropped the candle I’d been using for light, but even with both it and the tapestry’s fire extinguished, the room was full of more light than before; the orb outside seemed to have brightened as if bolstered by the presence of a Marr, its pale blue glow stretching even to the shadowy edges of the space.

I bent and picked up the ripped piece of tapestry once more, studying it closer in the new light before I turned to Valas and asked, “You said this was a sacred Tower of Creation, didn’t you? What does that mean?”

He didn’t look at me or answer right away, focused on summoning and swirling crystals of ice around his hand. The soft purple shade of his eyes seemed darker as it reflected the sharp, cold crystals. “The upper-goddess of Creation, Solatis—”

“The Sun Goddess?”

“Yes, and don’t interrupt me.” He gave his hand a shake, scattering the crystals to the ground. Wherever the ice shards hit, more ice sprung up, some of it taking on intricate shapes that reminded me of flowers.

Show-off.

“Anyway,” he continued, “yes. Her. She brought forth all life in all the realms, divine and otherwise, at the Creation. And the towers in this realm are full of her life-creating energy. Her gift to all the Marr, in addition to our respective magic: we’re able to draw on some of the energy to create creatures of our own design and persuasion—simple beasts and the like. Moth was created of energy gathered from within this tower, along with many other experimental creatures. There are multiple such towers, one in all three of the middle-heavens, and also a fourth in—”

“All three? So there are three separate divine spaces at this level, one for each of the three Courts of the Marr?” This was a theory I’d read in a book once; I could still clearly picture the diagram that had gone with it: A map divided into multiple layers, both vertically and horizontally, each section intricately decorated with the symbols of the beings that inhabited the respective levels. It was one of the most complicated and interesting maps I’d ever seen—so, naturally, I’d hardly been able to take my eyes off it.

“Yes,” Valas replied, “and you’re interrupting me again.”

“Sorry, I…my thoughts outrun my mouth sometimes.”

“I’m noticing that.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but shut it again as he arched a brow.

“This tower is called Eyrindor,” he said after a pause. He circled the space as he spoke, studying the stone walls and all the charts and paintings as though it had been a long time since he’d seen any of it up close. “There are two more nearly identical towers among each of the other Marr’s divine dwelling places, and also another in the center of all the court’s territories in this realm, known as Amalith: The Tower of Ascension. The energy of that center tower is more complex; it’s where chosen beings are sent when fully marked for divine status—the final step to becoming a middle-god or a Miratar spirit. If they survive the last round of horrors within Amalith itself, of course.”

Those last words caused a numbness to sting from my skull down my spine…a reaction he seemed to have been going for, judging by the smirk that crossed his face.

That smirk didn’t bother me; I had no plans to truly ascend as I’d told Dravyn I would, after all.

Ididhave a sudden desire to visit this Tower of Ascension, however—only so I could study it and find a way to bring it crashing down.

If I could cut off this source of creation…

The possibility excited me so much I could hardly keep still. I did my best not to fidget, quietly filing the new information alongside all the other things I’d learned since arriving in this realm.

There were at least a hundred other questions I wanted to ask after everything that had just happened, but I hesitated, cautious about seeming too eager about mining for information. I didn’t trust this god before me—or any of them—and maybe it was too soon to press for more than they were willing to give.

The Winter God seemed eager to show off his knowledge, though. And I couldn’t help myself; after weeks spent in the dark, I was desperate for all the enlightenment I could get. So I risked handing over the singed piece of tapestry, lifting a questioning gaze to the God of Ice, and said, “So this beast depicted on the tapestry…it was another creature born in this tower, like Moth?”

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