Page 85 of Court of Heathens

CHAPTER 44

Death is not what greets me when my eyes flutter open. Instead, I see the gods sitting on thrones, eyeing me with disgust.

I look down, realising I’m alive.

My hands are still shackled with glowing chains, but I am whole.

How am I alive?

Phrixius turns to me, and I blink, not realising he was there. He seems to slump when he notices I’m awake. Relief fills his eyes before he turns them back to the gods.

“If you will let me explain?—”

“Silence!” one of them roars, but my eyes are only for him, memorising the way he stands against his own people for me. “You may have forsaken your duty, but we have not, Phrixius.”

“She is capable of control. The fact that she has lived this long proves it,” he argues.

“Or that she is good at hiding, the vile creature,” one hisses.

“Hmm, it is interesting.” I know that voice. I glance at Mors to find him looking at me with interest.

“Please, give her a chance,” Phrixius begs.

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” one sneers. “You have forsaken everything we are. Do you feel no obligation or shame for your actions?”

“No, not if it keeps her alive. I will forsake all dignity.” He drops to his knees, and I freeze as the god of magic kneels to save me. “Give her one chance to regain control.”

I can’t. They stole my control.

It is only now that I see my life was all about balance. Sha and Adder helped without realising it. The gods stole them and it away. My soul is torn into pieces, scattered to the winds, and it leaves me unbalanced and alone, but they do not care. Whatever control I could have had before is now gone. I am only able to hold my power back because of the shackles, but even as I think that, I feel my shadows wind around them, working through the locks.

Anger fuels me, but there has been too much death, and I am so tired.

“Enough!” one barks. “This is not a negotiation. You will destroy the necromancer and atone for your lapse in judgement.”

Oh gods, they are going to make him kill me.

I know that will destroy something in him. Whether they want to know it or not, Phrixius loves me, and asking him to kill the one he loves, even if it’s to save the world, would fracture him.

I stare at his back as he shakes, and I realise he’s crying. When his face turns to me, it’s pale and glowing tears track down his cheeks. “Do not ask this of me, please. Let me save her. I can save her.”

“No. End her now. Do your duty to this world and the magic that created us. These are our laws. This is our duty. This is our purpose.”

They repeat it, all apart from Mors, but I stare at Phrixius as his eyes close, his duty warring with his love. Phrixius is a good man and a lawful god. He believes in his duty and the laws to keep this world safe, and I ruined that. I have made him falter. I have made him question his morals, and if I didn’t already hate what I am right now, then that would do it.

I caused the god of magic to falter in his duty, and now he’s fighting a battle I cannot help with.

Or can I?

I made the choice before, so I can make it again.

I cannot let Phrixius do this. I can’t let him destroy himself. He deserves better. It is my fault he is here, and it’s time I took the blame.

I should have died many years ago. I’m only alive because of Adder, and now he’s gone.

Death and I are old friends, and when I look at Mors, I see the knowledge there—I am living on borrowed time, and he knows.

He knows what I will do.

---