Page 5 of A War of Embers

I’m pretty sure one of the two homeless men camped out in the corner with bottles of bourbon are his favorites.

“What are you doing here, Keres? You don’t tend to show up unless it’s someone’s unfortunate time for demise.” Franklin presses a thick, scarred hand to his chest. “Has my time come?”

I roll my eyes at his theatrics. “No, it’s not. I have some questions I’m hoping you’ll be able to answer for me.” Questions that began rolling around in my mind last week after the killing of a family. Unfortunately for me, Justin’s words seem to have struck some chord inside of me about how people roll over their debts onto others and if Hallsman knows anything about the Blood Witch’s bargain.

Franklin’s white, bushy eyebrows collide together as he takes me in. He turns after a moment, pours my pint, before turning back around to hand it to me and give his undivided attention. “Thinking about dying?”

“Always.”

He nods his head. “There are two types of people in this world: the ones scared to die and the ones who have made peace with it. When you outlive your lifespan, you tend to make peace faster. I chose to be cunning in how I canceled my debt, but that was my decision. You don’t have to be like that.” Most likely because he knows I’m nothing like him in that regard.

“Then I stay immortal,” I wryly retort. “You got your soul back so you can cross to the Cliffs of Embers when it’s your time. You’ll pay your wage across the Blood Sea with your flesh. I’ll have no such luck.”

“You have two choices, then. Either accept your fate or let someone collect your debt.”

A third option toys around in my mind, Justin’s haughty voice trampling in my thoughts. “I’ve heard rumors I could ask the Blood Witch.”

Franklin reels back slightly. “No. She doesn’t create deals with immortals.”

“How are you so sure? Have you met her? There’s a man up in the Obsidian District who claims otherwise.” I sound desperate even to my own ears, but he doesn’t comment on it.

Franklin shakes his head. “You’re older than you look, yet still so young at the same time. You don’t remember the Province Wars, so that’s probably why you believe some nutter from Obsidian.” He turns and grabs a dishrag, scrubbing at the bar top with even strokes as I sip my pint.

I have no idea what he’s talking about. “Tell me about the wars then.”

He sighs. “A bit of a history lesson for you. Something you won’t find in any text here. But the man who made me immortal spoke of it before slitting his own throat once he was free. Before the Districts were created, many gods and goddesses lived in the same areas. Tellus and Aïdes weren’t segregated the way they are today. But the gods, they fought for control constantly of the lands. Those with more power ruled, those without died quickly and severely. Those who didn’t wish to divide into Districts were on one side while those who did want them were on the other. You ever wonder what the wasteland we can barely make out across the sea holds? Golden cities.”

Shock ripples through my body at his words. He’s implying that there used to be something over there. Something we, the living, could see. Something far more glamorous than anything existing here. Still, I want to know about the wars, about why the nutter from Obsidian couldn’t have made a bargain with the Blood Witch to cross her sea. I don't want to wait until the story is over to ask. “Were the wars fought over there?”

“They were fought everywhere,” Franklin scoffs. “Even within the Blood Sea itself, gods rest the souls of those fools. The ones on this side of the world combined together to overthrow those hiding in Aïdes. But you know what lurks there that people often forget about?” Franklin doesn’t give me a chance to respond before he narrows his eyes, jabbing a meaty finger in front of me on the bar, “The Lord of Monsters. The Lord of Shadows. Two of the most ruthless gods in our world were those twins. The gods here could only manage to kill one. They took the heart shard containing a piece of the soul from the other. No one knew then that a soul could be fractured into pieces.” Franklin shakes his head. “The heart shard,” he repeats with a curl of his lip in disgust. “They took his conscience but left his brain. To keep the monsters away from this side of the sea, the District gods stole part of the Lord of Shadows, a shard of his soul taken from his heart believing it would kill him but it didn’t; still it ensured he could never cross the Blood Sea or leave his realm.”

Absolutely none of this story is common knowledge among the masses. We’re essentially taught that the Districts here are the way things always were and always will be by how they are now. That Tellus is for the land of the living and Aïdes is the land of death. Nothing about wars, nothing about those who died during it, nothing about what doesn’t fit the narrative of the gods who apparently won the war.

“The District gods decided to create immortals using fallen soldier souls they refused to let pass on to the Cliff of Embers for eternal rest. Instead they used those souls to replace mortal souls with them. People like us were tools in their armies, a way to never die and continue the mission without any thoughts or voices, just the drive to complete what we were ordered to. By creating an army, we're still in service to be used while the Lords and Ladies wait for the dead across the sea to rise and revolt. Much like the Lord of Shadows, he’s who supposedly is the one left alive, when you take the soul out of your heart, it leaves you with nothing but a singular focus on your task. He’ll always want revenge, I imagine, for killing his brother in battle.”

This doesn’t make any sense. If they were able to kill off one twin, why not continue to fight? Did they not go after the Lord of Shadows? Why choose them out of all the gods who were rioting against the idea of splitting into Districts? Another thought strikes me at his words. There's always been a rumor that the storms that chip away at the cliffs are killing the soil used for crops by whatever magic has been leaking into the Blood Sea. “You believe our land is dying.” I shake my head in disbelief. “Why didn’t they kill them both? Why go after them at all?”

Franklin frowns as if considering his words. “Yes, I believe someone is killing our land, though most believe it’s horseshit. But the peoples from Aïdes are monsters. Monsters are not to be trifled with. Those twins held powers unlike any of the other gods. The Blood Witch is their mother, but it’s been said she called upon something dark to impregnate her. The Lord of Monsters was a vicious god. If the gods here wanted any chance at winning the war then they needed to kill him, so they did. But still, the gods wanting Districts needed to retreat fast since all the monsters in the realm no longer had anyone to answer to. Those monsters would now be free to go after whatever prey they saw fit, having no one to control their movements. The District gods activated a barrier between worlds to contain the beasts, but it also allowed them to claim triumph in the war. That’s why we can no longer see where the dead reside. The Blood Witch demanded to have her waters left alone during the war. It’s why there’s a price to pay to be sent across in discarded flesh. She doesn’t allow anyone to cross so the war may not continue as she holds the divided lines at bay.”

A few long seconds tick by as his words sink in. “That’s quite the story.”

Franklin shakes his head slowly, a dark chuckle falling from his mouth. “That’s the story of the gods from here. Who knows what really happened during the war? What they’re omitting and forgetting about altogether. But either way, we don’t see the golden cities shining on the horizon anymore, so I suppose the part about the veil of magic is true if you believe they stole a piece of the Lord of Shadows.”

“And the immortals?” We were pawns for both sides of this war.

“We’re interchangeable, aren’t we?” He shrugs. “When they took our souls, we are no longer mortal. We have a dead soul inside of us, and you can’t kill the dead, thus making us the inferior ones walking around. But it makes us mindless when activated, a ghost of ourselves. I traded souls with a mortal to die, to have a choice left in this life. I didn’t want to be a pawn anymore. But I don’t mind conning someone out of their soul to meet my end game,” Franklin says with no emotion in his voice.

I don’t bother stating what we both know. Unlike most, I want the cycle to end with me. For these souls to be laid to rest along with myself. Lady Gwenyth will never allow it. It's a foolish dream maybe, but it’s my end game. Instead of speaking any of that aloud, I change the topic. “It’s odd that the Blood Witch even works with the mortals who die after going through the war and one of her sons being killed.”

“Why? Because they were forced to fight? Aïdes did the same to the mortals living there. It wasn’t secluded to just the dead back then as far as I know. Even the gods who now live in the dark used mortals as weapons, creating immortals of their own with a never ending supply of souls to do it with. Besides, the gods south of the sea still allow for mortal souls to enter the Cliff of Embers. It’s not like they’re forsaking everyone because of a war the gods chose.”

“Do you think she’d bargain with me?”

“The Blood Witch?” Franklin’s eyes widen dramatically. “Do I need to take back your pint? What kind of reckless thinking are you doing? I already told you why that was a bad route.”

“It’s part of what I mentioned earlier. About the fellow from Obsidian who made a bargain.”

“You mean the nutter? He’s probably wishing he’d never bothered. Probably living in the digestive system of one of the monsters under the Blood Sea.”

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