He grits his teeth, then turns his back to me. “Then we have another deal, Poison.”
“I always knew the gods were monsters,” I say. “Although I had always believed Essentria was good.”
A low growl emanates from his chest. “No, that was Astraea.”
“Is she here as well?”
“They all are. How do you think Essentria could reach you in your dream? She borrowed Astraea’s magic.”
“Why did you trap Astraea, if she’s good?” I ask.
Guilt carves his expression as he remains in silence.
“Why allow this tournament here if you’re afraid of someone awakening the gods?” I continue when he doesn’t speak.
“Because,” he spits, “when they die, their souls join the rest that guard this island, haunt my sea, and stop trespassers. I need more dead, so no one stumbles across my siblings. The sacrifices were too busy trying to kill each other to ever find them.”
“You are revolting. Hundreds have died so you could have some ghost barrier?”
“Yes,” he says simply, and it takes every ounce of self-control I have not to punch him in the face. “The elders wanted this. I only seized an opportunity. Now, let us go before the morning comes.”
I grit my teeth, glaring at him before reluctantly saying, “Drake and Ari are in an abandoned house, up there.”
He tsks. “Such an obvious hiding place.”
“With your help, we won’t have to worry about being attacked.”
“You won’t,” he hisses through his teeth. “I already told you, Poison, I won’t interfere with The Harvest. You are not an active participant. You never made the oath, even when you killed the girl in the boat. You are my only concern and, until I know for certain you are not the prophesied one, I am not leaving your side.”
TWENTY-SIXAzkiel
The creeping sense of Essentria’s power lingers around me, choking the island with life.
I glance at the witch as we walk, my heart palpitating. Essentria spoke to her, which can only mean she is the chosen one, despite what Calista believes.
She’s quiet, lines forming between her brows. Her magic thrums, growing louder and my shadows swirl inside of me in response. She has no idea how haywire her power is, and what it does to me.
I clear my throat, breaking the silence, hoping a distraction will slow her damn mind. “There was a crow searching for you. Is he a pet of yours?”
“Thorn,” she gasps, and I roll my eyes. “Where is he?”
Thorn. What a fucking name. “I’m not sure.”
“He’ll find me.” The spirit of a girl with shoulder length wisps of hair runs in front of us, her body disappearing through a tree’s weathered trunk. Calista’s eyes track her movements, and she slows her pace. “She looked like a walking corpse,” she whispers, then halts. “Yet she passed through a tree.”
My brows furrow as I watch her gaze around, then sigh heavily. “You are not shaken by the dead.”
“Not really. The living are far worse.”
“You’re proof of that, Poison.”
She clears her throat. “I suppose. So, do the dead here have physical bodies?”
“Both,” I explain. “Their forms are malleable.”
She lifts her chin. “So the people I killed tonight are still here.”
“Yes,’’ I state, and we continue walking. “I can feel every soul within my domain.”
Her breath hitches. “Fantastic.”
“They likely won’t hurt you,” I assure her, and her gaze snaps to mine.
“That’s not what concerns me.”
“You feel guilty,” I note. “Don’t. Regret is pointless. You can’t change the past.”
“Is that what you tell yourself?” she asks. “To justify everything you’ve done.”
I shrug. “I don’t have to justify anything. That’s a mortal’s burden.”
She rolls her eyes and matches my pace. “If people find out how awful you are, they won’t worship you.”
“Why not?” I ask. “Mortals are just as bad..”
“You were supposed to be above sin.”
I chuckle darkly. “Is that the fairytale you were taught? Where did you think sin came from?”
