Page 13 of Of Vows and War: Special Edition
“The gods? Yes, actually. I spent quite a long time with my nose buried in texts within the walls of the Temple of Gods,” he answered, his tone nonchalant. Before I could say anything else, I heard the prince shuffle and his voice ring out once more. “Though, I spent far more time with my cock buried in faithfuls.”
His laughter rang through the dungeons as I scoffed, my own chuckles impossible to hide. Especially as pain from the movement made them sound strangled and weak.
“Will you tell…me about them?” My question came out strained and slow, the words feeling as if they would break through my clenched teeth. Eternity spare me, my leg hurt. So badly. “I know so little.”
“Well, the first thing is that gods were blessed, not born. Their magic came from the Above, where they would transcend mortality and become ever-living. It is said that the only way for a god to die is by the hands of another god, in which they must remove their magic.” Interesting. So it was not only Padon who could not die. “There are ten gods other than Asta, your prince’s goddess and late queen. Stella, Goddess of Sun and Moon. Achari, God of Time and Void. Padon, God of Death and Creation. Karys, Goddess of Love and Hate. Jonah, God of Peace and War. Druj, Goddess of Deception and Candor. Kyoufu, God of Fear and Bravery. Iniko, God of Chaos and Order. Venturae, Goddess of Fate and Chance. And, last but not least, Anastasia, Goddess of Sin and Virtue.”
“How do you know of their names?” I asked in surprise, flinching at the sting in my chest from straightening my back.
“The Temple of Gods has one of Asta’s journals,” Sterling stated casually, as if that was not something rather impressive. “Faithfuls believe that it was a gift from the goddess herself, but I think it was a demon who gave them the text. It is the sole scenario that makes sense to me. Our history dates back only the last two hundred years, as if nothing existed before then. Odd that all knowledge of demons disappeared with it. And for the demon queen to have gifted it to us? Stranger yet. But alas, the text is how I know. She names them.”
“Does she…say anything else…about the gods?” Eagerness and curiosity were evident in my tone, but I was unwilling to hide my interest. I was unsure why, but knowing more about Padon and Asta felt important, as if it would somehow help me get out of this situation.
“Well, we learned from her that the holder of Sun and Moon was always the one who ruled over the Above. However, something miraculous happened. A goddess wasborn. Gods and goddesses never mated, but Stella and Achari were in love. More than that, they were soul bonded. It is said that soul bonds are the strongest love a being can experience. Something greater than chance or choice. More like destiny.” A smile lifted one corner of Sterling’s mouth, a sort of awe seeping from his voice. Stirring within me was my magic, begging for freedom. I could taste the prince’s love for knowledge, the faintest tingle upon my tongue. Never before had my magic remained through a blocker, and I found myself trying to reach for it as Sterling continued. “And when the two mated, they conceived a child born glowing silver, whom they would name Asta. She possessed immense magic, more than any other god in existence. Stella and Achari would make the choice to afford Solana, Stella’s elder daughter, the seed of Sun and Moon when the time was right, but Asta would inherit the throne. Some objected, but most bowed down to the Goddess of Souls.”
“Souls?” I inquired, my surprise momentarily distracting me from both my magic and the excruciating agony.
“Yes. Asta could steal souls,” Sterling answered with a nod, his eyes slightly glazed over as he spoke. “Along with that, the sound of her voice could sway any being to her will.”
“Oh, yes…a Honey Tongue. That I knew.”
“A honey what?”
“Nothing, go on.”
“Okay, well, um. Where were we?”
“They bowed down…to Asta.”
“Yes, they bowed to her willingly. All was well, honestly. The Goddess of Souls and the God of Death and Creation were to rule over all. Many guessed at what god they might conceive, and all thought them such a lovely pair. But the future hasa funny way of beating fate, and Asta would one day sit an entirely different throne. Some believe her change of heart was due to black magic, that being born instead of blessed with such gifts darkened her soul. In fact, many rumors suggest that Asta crafted the Underworld, where she would eventually damn souls that she no longer cared for. Perhaps that was where the idea that demons were hideously disfigured creatures from the fiery depths of below came about.”
With a shrug, Sterling reached over and grabbed a piece of stale bread from the golden plate near his thigh. Apparently, the royals had not budgeted for ugly plates to feed prisoners. Shame. It would be nice to not have to look at the offensive color.
“Did Stella not…care that her daughter’s…husband was murdered?” I pressed, desperate for more information.
“Oh, she cared. According to Asta’s journal, Stella sought vengeance against Padon, but he turned the other gods against her. Together, they usurped her, banishing their empress. Asta suggested that neither of them would ever see their home world again, and that they would both remain in the land where they had poured their magic.”
Their home. I had seen it, had I not? The palace where their portraits still rested, hidden in a room that looked like more of a shrine than an office. Did Padon regret his choice? Was there space for remorse in a creature so absorbed in their own selfishness?
“So then, what…happened to Asta?”
“No one in my realm knows that. Does your prince not have those answers?”
None of my injuries could have come close to the pain with which the termmy princebrought me. The assault upon my chest felt like daggers slicing into me, breaking through bones and flesh, puncturing my heart and lungs. What a visceralfeeling, to know how little you have after possessing so very much.
“I never asked…I cared for nothing but…the prevention of war.” After a beat of silence, I quietly added with a broken voice, “I did not love him…the way he deserved.”
“Hey, that cannot be true.” There was sincerity in his words, but all I could do was hear my own inner voice reminding me of the awful partner I had been, and how I would never get the chance to be better for Bellamy. What was he doing? Were they any closer to ending all of this? Without a word, I wrapped my arms around my chest, the aches and pain unable to reach me when so many thoughts pierced my every nerve. Maybe Bell would kill me and all of this would finally be over.
Tish walked in then, her face wan and her demeanor that of an overused horse. She looked as exhausted as I felt. At no point during my painful healing session did she speak, opting to remain silent and leave immediately after.
The second her footsteps faded, Sterling spoke. “Tell me about him.”
Startled, I looked towards the prince, his vibrant curls as wild as his sister’s. He had leaned towards me, his eyes wide and encouraging. Despite his handsome features, he looked so young sitting there, eagerly waiting to hear stories of love and loss. Like a curious child preparing for a bedtime story. Wholesome was the only word I could think to describe how beautifully inquisitive he was.
A smile split my face despite the morose turn of my mood. How did one explain Bellamy? He was so much more than a hair color or a hobby or a single word. He was…everything.
“He is easily one of the most ridiculous beings alive. He is cocky and obnoxious and self-serving.” Sterling scoffed, and I turned to find him gaping at me in horror. With a laugh, I continued. “He is also funny and brilliant. He is determined andfierce. His favorite color is black, but red is special to him. Of all the seasons, he prefers winter, because he enjoys the crisp air and the beauty of death—ever the tortured painter. He likes chocolate and potatoes—not together, though I would not put it past him to try such a thing. He has fought through so much pain and come out of it stronger each time. He never discriminates, and he believes in dreaming even when the nightmares invade your every sense. I can still picture the little freckles across his cheeks and how annoyingly perfect they looked when he would console me after a panic attack. How he would rub my back and tell me about the stars. He loves deeper than anyone I have met, and he is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
