Page 26 of Cloak of Night
“Aha.” A smile spread across Liga’s face. “I understand now. You would like to hear a story, correct? Because telling stories is how humans process a world that is otherwise too vast for you to comprehend.” It sounded like an insult, but he said it matter-of-factly.
Sora knew that he was probably right. Liga didn’t seem mean; he simply didn’t know how to interact with humans, which made his speech a bit awkward and, sometimes, too blunt. So she pushed away the indignation that had flared at Liga’s condescension and said, “Yes. We’d like to hear thestory of what happened to Daemon.”
“As you wish.” Liga looked up toward the sky, and the air above their chestnut grove turned hazy, as if a purple cloud had descended. As he began to speak, moving images appeared in the violet fog, like a vivid, realistic miniature of everything that had transpired.
Celestae was a paradise, an island in the heavens that looked as if it were made of honey, translucently golden and crystalline. Sweet peaches and plums bowed the tree branches, and the air smelled of their nectar. There were lakes of such stunning turquoise, no color on earth could compete, and mountains topped with thick snow as fine as powdered sugar. Each god lived in a grand palace of their own making, with every luxury they could ever desire, and they entertained themselves with contests of strength and speed, celebrations full of music and dancing, and bountiful feasts with endless fountains of rice wine.
But there was one denizen of the heavens who grew tired of his idle life. The constellation wolf did not know how long he had lived here—time did not exist in Celestae, and so a day could be years, or a millennium could be a minute—but he did know he was bored. He craved, for better or for worse, hardship and challenge.
So he went to his father, Vespre, the god of night, who stood on the balcony of his palace, watching the sky below as it turned to the purplish-gray of gloaming. Vespre was seven feet tall with skin the color of midnight, broad shoulders, and muscles bulging across his chest. His eyes flickered like nebulas, bright and dark and multicolored at the same time, and his cheekbones and jawline were sharp and edged in white light, like the lines of a constellation. A trail of orange fire like a comet’s tail followed his feet.
“Father,” the wolf said, “I want to leave the heavens.”
“Are you unhappy?” Vespre asked. “Is Celestae not enough?”
“On the contrary, Celestae is too much.”
The god of night’s eyes swirled in confusion. “Too much? You would desire less?”
The wolf tried to explain. Perhaps it was the humanity in him—his mother had been mortal—that needed a purpose in order to be happy. But Vespre did not understand.
“You are one of my favorite children,” Vespre said. “I know I promised my human lovers that I would never deny their offspring’s requests to visit earth, but that was to be temporary, if they wanted to see their mothers. But your mother is gone. She died in childbirth. There is nothing for you among the mortals.”
“You would keep me prisoner here against my will?” the wolf said.
Vespre grew angry then, the color in his eyes suddenly gone and replaced with darkness, like black holes. “You are half god, and you belong in Celestae. I will not discuss this further.” With that, the god vanished, leaving the wolf standing alone on the cusp of twilight.
But another god had overheard their argument, and she landed on the balcony beside the wolf. It was Luna, goddess of the moon and the constellation wolf’s grandmother.
“If you wish to leave the sky, I can help you,” Luna said. “But you must be sure, for if you do, there is no return. Once your father finds out, he will banish you forever from Celestae.”
The blue wolf nodded. “I am sure.”
“Then come with me on the next full moon.”
When Luna again brightened the night sky with her glorious light, the wolf slipped away from his brothers and sisters andfollowed Luna’s downward climb. They touched down on the soft Kichonan dirt just outside a cave in Takish Gorge.
“You would not like being a mere mortal,” Luna said to him. “After a lifetime with magic, being an ordinary human would be torture. But I can make you a taiga. And you can, in turn, serve me in return for the favor of releasing you from the sky.”
The wolf bowed his blue-furred head to the ground.
Above, the clouds cracked open, pouring forth rain and lightning. The god of night had awoken to find his son gone.
The wolf’s mane shone like the stars one last time. Then Luna cast a spell, and he was a constellation no more. His spirit, however, curled into the form of an infant and, reincarnated, began a life anew.
“I name you Daemon,” she whispered, because the bellowing storm sounded like demons marching from the hells. “It will take you some time to find your way, but when you’re ready, you shall be a light when others attempt to bring darkness.” Luna marked her triplicate whorls on the baby’s back.
A pack of wolves emerged from the cave. The alpha and his mate bowed low to the goddess.
“Care for this child as if he were your own,” Luna said. “And one day, his people will come for him.”
Sora tried to catch Daemon as his legs gave way beneath him, but she wasn’t fast enough, and they both fell to the ground. The earth smacked against their knees, but he seemed to hardly feel it. Their gemina bond was a daze, Daemon completely bewildered by Liga’s story.
“I—I don’t remember any of that,” he said.
“Because Father was angry after you left,” Liga said ashe waved away the purple haze hanging over them. “He did, in fact, banish you from ever entering Celestae again, and he buried your memories of it where you could not find them. If you didn’t want to be there, he didn’t think you deserved to remember it either.”
“That’s horrible,” Fairy said.
