Page 14 of Unlikely Omega

Panic. Told you so.

He was a big man once, some said an alpha, a rumor he dispelled quickly when he rose in the ranks of the Temple. Truth is, nothing else about him seemed to scream Fae, so the rumors faded quickly.

I bow from the shoulders. “You asked to see me, Eminence.”

He hums in reply, turns a page—a thin rustling, therefore a thin page. Probably a ledger. “Oh, there you are. Sit down, priest Finnen.”

I remain standing because that is the protocol and I wouldn’t dare break it, even if he asks me to. “Eminence.”

“You come from Iltha, from the municipality of Cheimon, a small town called… Fayun?” He taps the ledger open in front of him. I wonder what else is written in there about me and ignore the cold sweat running down my back.

“That’s correct,” I reply.

“Doubly claimed from a young age. By Nyx and…?”

“Briareus, Eminence.”

“Oh yes, Briareus.” His voice curves around a smirk. Of course he knows that. This is basic information and has to be in the ledger. “Unusual, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Eminence.”

“Your parents said you said so. Said you heard their voices in your head, and of course, someone who hears two gods has to be given to the Temple. It’s the law.”

I nod, find my hands clenching and unclenching at my sides. “It is.”

Here it is. Laid out before me. My past, all caught up with me.

“Sometimes parents give their children to us without much of an explanation,” he goes on. “But your parents made sure we knew why. Knew you’d rise in the ranks. They loved you. Wanted you to have a good life.”

Loved. Wanted.

I glance up, my breath catching. “Eminence—”

“I am sorry, Priest Finnen. Your parents are dead.”

Stabbing pain in my chest. A wrenching twist where my heart might be. I haven’t seen my family in years and yet…

And yet this isn’t as bad as I thought. It’s not about me. The relief I feel leaves me reeling, and right on its heels ride guilt and shame and sorrow like the barking dogs of the underworld.

“I understand,” I say, my voice a rasp. “Thank you for letting me know.”

“Won’t you ask how they died?”

“They are dead. Does it matter how?”

“Doesn’t it?” He leaves the question hanging, and through the guilt and pain, I realize that this isn’t all.

My spine stiffens. “Eminence?”

“I am so sorry to inform you, priest Finnen, that your parents were killed for hiding Fae sympathizers. You wouldn’t be aware of that, having been away from home for so long. Since you were a child, apparently.”

“No,” I say, my voice as stiff as my spine. “No, Eminence, I wasn’t aware.”

“They never mentioned any of this to you?”

“No.” I swallow hard. “Never.”

A pause. “There are no Fae left to save, priest Finnen. You are aware of that, yes? Just because certain people present characteristics reminiscent of the Lost Race, that doesn’t mean that the Fae are ever coming back. Is that clear in your mind?”

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