Page 6 of The Heartless One
An image appeared in her mind. A place she recognized, although had not been in many years. The connection in the scrying bowl severed until all she saw was their own reflection in the water.
“Where are we going, Jessamine?” Elric rested his chin on her shoulder, his arms snaking around her waist.
“The Pleasure District,” she replied. “The gods have looked kindly on us, Deathless One. That is where we needed to go to find Fortuna.”
“Indeed, it seems luck is on our side.” But the kiss he pressed to her shoulder felt bitter. As if it wasn’t luck at all, but a wheel turning that neither of them could stop.
Elric wasn’t certain he wanted to leave the manor again. The last time they’d left, he’d found himself having to save Jessamine’s life. Again. And he grew tired of saving her from death itself. The Pleasure District had its dangers, but his memories of the place were old.
Long ago, he had visited the Pleasure District many times with his brothers, the women there ready and waiting to service a god. They’d always disappointed him, though. While there were plenty of powdered and perfumed women to tempt him, none of them had power.
He’d always sought women with some form of magic. He liked to feel their energy in his veins when he kissed them. He enjoyed the sparks that literally flew when they both indulged in each other. Perhaps that had always been his downfall.
As he stood before the crumbling statues of his family, he stared into what had once been his brother’s visage. The God King was known throughout the realm as the supreme warrior, worshipped by soldiers. He gifted people the ability to fight through any pain, endure more than any other in this realm, and still continue forward in the name of their god.
“What would you do?” he murmured, even though he knew his brother could not respond.
The answer had always been simple when it came to the God King. When something scared him, his brother simply killed it. He’d remove it from the world and then he didn’t have to fear it anymore. But that had turned him into a creature who existed solely on destruction and terror.
All these people thought they were being guided by benevolent and wise creatures. Instead, the gods had brought their own people to ruin, and suffered for it in turn.
“It is odd to see a god in this room,” Sybil’s voice echoed.
“Why is that?”
“It’s hard to imagine that a god worships.” She walked into the room with her hands tucked behind her back, her eyes on the floor and not on him.
“Is it worship if I’m speaking to family?” He contemplated the statue in front of him before sighing. “I suppose some might say it is. That’s what you do, after all. You walk into this room and you speak to us.”
“That is my understanding of worship, yes. We beg for answers or help, and a god sometimes answers. Sometimes they don’t.”
“I remember a time when we were all together. When the gods walked the earth and I had no questions or difficulties. I was still young, compared to the others. They were my guides. More than just family, they made certain I didn’t lose my mind to the pressure and the responsibility of the coven of witches who followed me.”
“Do you have all of your memories back, then?”
Most of them. Some were still hazy; perhaps they always would be. He remembered being created. Born out of a witch’s blade and so much raw magic that it had splintered him into the creature he was now.
Elric feared what that meant. Touching the memory proved futile as it hovered just out of his reach. His origin was still not something he could see clearly. But he knew with certainty that at some point, each of the gods had been made.
They stood for a while in silence, both of them surveying the monolith of a god who had once lived. This depiction of his brother had him in full armor. There was a helm on his head with only a small cross to see out of, and the black gems that formed his eyes still gleamed in that hidden space. Eyes that saw straight into a person’s soul and could sear their flesh from bone.
He heard Sybil’s sharp swallow before she spoke. “I forget that youhad a relatively small following, compared to the other gods. You had a coven of witches, but they had…”
“Thousands,” he filled in for her. “Thousands of followers who prayed to them every single day. So often I thanked my luck and the magic of the realm that I did not have as many. There is no way to exist without disappointing all who need you. I know it plagued him.”
“You rarely disappointed us, if it makes you feel better.”
It didn’t.
Because not disappointing them had required sacrificing so much of himself. He’d let them carve into his flesh time and time again in their pursuit of power and seen only the rare handful who even felt a modicum of guilt for it.
Then Jessamine walked into his life, and she had a different mindset. There was no pain with her. No sacrificing. She needed his power, true. But she had refused to use him the way others had.
His voice was low, the question barely audible. “If I hadn’t let them scorch my bones with curses or shape their runes with my organs, would they ever have made me a god?”
Sybil’s tiny intake of breath was all he needed to hear. Elric knew the truth. They had seen him as a weapon then, and nothing had changed in the many years since. They hadn’t seen a being with thoughts or feelings when they had stolen his magic. All they saw was a tool.
And once he had performed his job, they threw him to the side.
