Davius observed the slightest hint of color blushing his friend’s hollow cheeks.
“I can will the element of fire at my command,” he continued, “while Davius seems to have dominion over the wind.”
She nodded, turning towards Davius with adoring appraisal. “Aye, Daghda has always been the master of weather.”
“Ah, yes,” Lucius cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable. “So, to answer your question, we do have our select godly powers, but are bound by a few earthly restrictions.”
Morrigan shifted in her seat, the raven at her shoulder suddenly flying off to survey their new perch. “You were quite brazen to turn one of ours, Lucius,” she remarked, gesturing with her eyes towards Davius. “You are lucky Lugh knows nothing of this.”
“He was given to me by one of your shamans, Morrigan. The boy’s father.”
“But still,” she sighed. “And you, Daghda, do you ever speak?”
Davius, who had been perfectly content remaining silent as he observed their exchange, cleared his own throat. “I do.”
“Then what do you have to say about what is being proposed?”
“Years ago, I was a mortal man, happily in love,” he began. “However, my lover and I were both bound to slavery, and when our affair was discovered by our master, he nearly murdered me and sold my lover to a vile human being with a lustful penchant for torture. It was in his home that my love met her demise. I swore a blood oath over her grave that I would one day have my revenge. As you can probably guess, much has transpired since that night.”
She nodded as she listened, her lovely eyes swimming with empathy.
“I regret having called upon you for something so trivial. An immortal soul should not feel lingering human emotion, but I still do. I fear I will never be whole, never able to fully embrace this new life unless I honor the oath I made.”
She gave him a gentle smile. “You do not have to apologize to me for matters of the heart, sweet Daghda. I understand these things much more than is known.” She turned to face Lucius. “What made you this way, what turned you into earthbound immortals?”
Lucius perked up, grateful to have the focus back on him. “It was a very dear friend of mine, the most powerful spellcaster on earth, long ago in a land that they now call Dacia. She summoned me with her sorcery and I rose to earth in the guise of a dragon. It took formidable manifestation on her behalf to deliver me out of that form into one that was human, but she was able. Well, something like a human, anyway.”
“And how did she accomplish it?” Morrigan pressed.
Lucius stole a glance at Davius, mindful of his words. “She lured a man into the cave where she kept me hidden, ridding him of his human soul so that mine could enter. And here I am.” He made a gesture of satisfaction.
Morrigan looked thoughtful, linking her fingers together at her knee as she weighed her decision. “I will honor your request,” she said, finally. “Yet, after it is done, and your vengeance is satisfied, I want to be made into one of you.”
Lucius let out a sound of surprise. “Why would you want such a thing?” he asked, incredulously. “You are a perfect goddess, adored by your followers.”
Suddenly her face hardened, the slight clench of her jaw increasing the severity of her angular features. “I am summoned to war, yet I am never a part of it. I soar above the battlefields, inhaling the carrion soured air and blood-soaked earth, but never can I touch it. I long to walk amongst them, to feel the true exertion of a violent campaign.”
“My dear, you sound very much as I once did,” Lucius said adoringly.
“Then you will honor my request.”
“We shall,” Davius replied firmly for him.
Morrigan’s eyes flickered in his direction.
“But we do not have the means to do so,” Lucius objected. “My friend has long since passed, and it would take time to trace her bloodline. And even so, it is a gamble whether any of her children developed into a sorceress as powerful as she.”
“I will do it,” Davius declared. “I can easily work magic, as a human or as an immortal, and if I truly am the reincarnation of a god, then I am far more powerful than any common spellcaster. We will honor the Morrigan’s request.”
Lucius stared at him, speechless.
Morrigan grinned and rose to her feet, beckoning her crow with a shrill caw. It swooped down to her, landing gracefully on her extended arm. It arched up its wings obediently, allowing her to gently remove two long feathers from its slender shape. She handed them to Lucius, who had been sitting in silence, an expression of defeat painted across his face.
“Upon the night of your vengeance, you will each hold one of my feathers close,” she instructed them. “Envision the raven, feel the air pummeling your face as you soar the vast and empty skies. Your body will transform and you will maintain your new appearance for as long as you wish. But do not lose this feather, for if you do, you will not be able to evoke the magic again to bring you back home.”
Davius took one of her hands, her skin still warm, but slippery as it began to lose its tangibility. “Thank you.”
Morrigan smiled as she slowly pulled away. Her apparition was fading, the foliage of the courtyard now visible through her form. “Our lands call to me, Daghda, and I must listen. Remember your promise to me. It is a great honor that I have just gifted you.”
“You have my eternal gratitude,” he replied earnestly.
The wind picked up around them and she stepped backwards, letting it lift and twirl her skirts and hair until it created a swirling shroud of black around her. Her companion crow shrieked and was joined by the rest of its murder, their piercing calls resounding throughout the courtyard. She left the two creatures with one final smile before her figure dissolved into dozens of tiny black bodies, joining the rest to disappear seamlessly into the night.
“And she is gone once more,” Davius commented softly, watching the night sky absorb the corvidian cloud. He turned to look at Lucius.
His expression startled him, his handsome features distorted into a menacing grimace. “You promised her what we cannot give,” he admonished scornfully.
“I will work the magic,” Davius assured him, surprised at his venom.
“You may be powerful, Davius, but your hubris has blinded you. You cannot create immortals as I can. I have told you, they must be human first or terrible things can occur. We cannot just go about making other gods corporeal—it is madness!”
Davius was silent. The events of his dream danced in his mind, creating a tarantella along with the recollection of Libraean’s words. Ah, dear brother, but I can create others as you, he thought.
Lucius rose to his feet, angrily sweeping the trails of his robes behind him. His eyes burned a ferocious gold as he glared at him. “This is your mistake. This will be yours to resolve. You can invoke the wrath of the Morrigan by disappointing her all by yourself. I want no part of it.” He stormed into the house, slamming the door shut behind him.
Davius sighed. He looked up, noticing the brilliance of the stars had peaked, signaling the approach of dawn. His body was tired, the power that had risen in him earlier now dissipated entirely. He found himself unsettled that Libraean’s unsolicited presaging had come true. Although he had no distinct memories of it, if he was a reincarnated god, that meant he was an equal counterpart to Lucius, with the same abilities and power. Lucius was blatantly lying to him. Perhaps the notion of impartiality threatened him, provoking his visceral, furious response. He sighed again, rising to his feet. Daylight approached and his body called for rest. LONDON, 1857
Rain hammered on the rooftops, running in streams down the ashen windows of the parlor. Thunder grumbled in the distance, the occasional crack of lightning flashing ominously over the plot of gravestones below. David moved back from the window, crossing over the room to where she sat.
