Elian stared at the bangle for long seconds, his aura read a mash of shaded sapphire and darkened crimson. She hoped he wouldn’t press any further. “Now, don’t go cockin’ up any more jobs. Wouldn’t want my brother to cry over some dead girl with snowfall eyes.”
With that, Elian disappeared into the back of the tavern, Quick Fingers and Red Tulio behind him.
Sliding up to the bar, she called out to the barkeep. “The strong stuff.” Olaf, with a grin, plopped down a shooter glass and yanked off the cork of a darkened bottle. Ashe reached across and took the whole thing.
The liquor washed away the unease building inside. First killing a man, the vicars, Solanine and shadow, and now Elian’s unsaid knowledge of her past. It all left her lost.
She spotted Wren cleaning a table across the tavern. The thief girl looked up, found Ashe watching her and smiled. The mist at her feet softly prodded her again.
Until today.
So, she tipped the bottle back and headed over.
X
Evander
“SHE WILL BE YOURS, EVANDER.”
There it was, in Evander’s mind, the ever-present voice. There was no image to accompany the voice, there never was. A shadowed man, that’s how Evander envisioned the speaker. Tall and cloaked, using the figurative shadows as His mantle. Unbent but strong. The voice of a god.
A Divine.
From the second floor of The Colosseum, Evander nodded to the Divine’s promise as he watched the girl he called Snow Eyes. That baleful Wren stood nearby, fluttering eyelashes at the object of his obsession as she toyed with her hair. Sometimes they touched each other in a dance of intimacy, teasing each other with soft kisses, coming ever closer to the levels of desire that filled him.
Ever since the girl had come with that smuggler looking like a half-starved refugee, he had been enthralled. Ensnared a more accurate description. It was her eyes that had ensnared him. Those glacial irises of the likes he’d never seen before.
And she would be his.
“When?” he asked of the voice.
“SOON.” The ethereal voice of the Divine grated like bone on bone. Flickers of obsidian flashed like eyelids blinking in his mind.
“You tease, you punish me. I’ve done all you’ve asked. I’ve served! She’s to be mine. You promised!”
“CONTINUE TO SERVE.” The sound echoed in his skull, pressing down in a demanding way. Devoid of warmth, only the pressure. “SERVE AND YOU SHALL BE REWARDED WHEN THE TIME OF MY RETURN DRAWS NIGH.”
Evander’s fists curled into a ball, fingernails digging into the flesh of his palms. “How much longer?”
There was silence, and his head cocked to the side as he sought the voice belonging to his Divine. It had left him, always leaving him. Commanding he serve but never giving the power he craved. The power promised. The power of aetheurgy.
“You give me nothing!”
A crushing force descended upon him in a rush, driving him to his knees. Clutching the railing, his head exploded in torment, sawing at his very soul. His muscles tightened, frayed apart in a single instance, splitting.
“YOU DARE QUESTION ME, MORTAL! YOUR IMPUDENCE WILL BE YOUR UNDOING!”
A presence formed within Evander’s mind, blinded by the shadows from whence it came. The shadowed form appeared, surrounded by a presence dark as the void. Crystaline. The sheer force of power bore through Evander’s soul as if he were nothing but parchment. His body crumbled under the seismic compression, head touching the wooden planks of The Colosseum’s balcony, sweat beaded his forehead and drenched his curls.
Then it was over.
He sagged; chest pulled in breath after breath. His mind cleared; the bite of acid drove upward.
“SOON. BIDE YOUR TIME. THE GIRL’S SOUL WILL BE YOURS TO FOREVER PLAY WITH IN THE COMING NIGHT WHEN I RETURN.”
“Yes, master. Command me.”
“PATIENCE. MY DISCIPLE WILL GIVE YOU WHAT YOU WANT. GIVE YOU THE POWER YOU DESIRE. SHE WILL SHOW YOU TRUE VOID FORM AND MAKE YOU THE RIGHT HAND OF MY FALLEN.”
The voice wavered as it always did, faded and was gone. The image of the cloaked figure disappeared. Evander struggled to his feet, using the railing to steady himself. Bodily fluid poured down his face, a mixture of blood and perspiration, his jaw sore from clenching so tight.
He looked toward the girl who would be his, her head nestled upon the shoulder of the serving wench. “You will be mine, Snow Eyes. Forever.”
Boots clapped on the tavern’s floorboards. It was Elian.
“Brother, come,” Elian commanded. Evander knew his brother was still livid over the girl’s killing of the servant in the Guilder’s villa. “We have a summons.”
“SOLANINE CALLS. OBEY.”
Yes, master. Obey I shall.
An hour later, Evander glided down a hallway aboard the fortress of Gargantua.
Elian walked by his side, as were a pair of Imperium soldiers. The guards stopped a solitary portal at the end of the hall where two additional guards stood rigid. One rapped a knuckle upon the door, which opened before the guard could knock a second time.
