by Nazri Noor
“Yeah,” I said, dragging my feet over to the couch and slumping back into it again. Hecate stayed by the sink, trailing her finger through the dishes. She really had a thing about water. “But now we’ve attracted Zeus’s attention, and it looks like Agatha has done something horrible. What, exactly, I couldn’t tell you, but I’m sure you know about the ritual murders in France.”
Hecate nodded. “This is only more reason for you to expedite the Apotheosis, fleshling. The sooner you can gather the five blades and execute the ritual, the sooner you will have the power to destroy Agatha Black, to stop the gods themselves from harming you.”
I shivered again at the promise of so much power, but I definitely noted her use of the word execute. “That’s one thing I’m not sure of, Hecate. Everything we’ve discussed about the ritual points to me – well, it sounds like I’m meant to die as a result. Is that what it takes to ascend?”
She clasped her hands together, nodding again. “Yes. Yes, Dustin, that is certainly one way to put it. The Apotheosis does involve your death, in a sense. But surely you understand. It is the same as burning upon a ceremonial bonfire, the same as a sword being smithed out of crude metal.” She chuckled. “If you like, it might even be compared to baking a cake. The fire cleanses as it destroys, but it also recreates, offers a pyre for your resurrection. You will be shattered, in order that you may be reforged from the ruined pieces once more. Better. Stronger.”
My fingers threaded through each other as I wrung my hands. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”
“It is simply the way of things. You will be annihilated.”
I gulped.
“Then what remains of you must spend time in your new domicile in order to survive, and to stabilize its energies.”
I gaped at her. “My own domicile? Then this isn’t just some tiny thing. You’re talking about actual, deific ascension.”
“Have we not fully explained this to you over and again, fleshling? Godhood. That is the point of the Apotheosis.”
“But all the other rites of power demand something. Carver and his lichdom, Agatha and the Coven of One, they all had to kill.” My fingers dug deep into the couch, my lips curling back.
Hecate shook her head. “And kill you shall, fleshling. Agatha Black must die. Is that not your deepest desire? The Apotheosis will give you the might to do so. But you must make a sacrifice.”
The question hung thick in the air. “And what is that sacrifice?”
“For you to linger within your domicile, and only in your domicile, for as long as it takes for your new body to reform. For as long as it takes to truly achieve godhood.”
I bit my lip, dreading the answer. “How long must I linger?”
“For a new god? One fueled by the belief and willpower of so many humans? Several months. Perhaps some years. But those days are gone. There are no more temples, no more oracles and zealots. Mankind no longer believes in gods, least of all you, sweet fleshling. Your time? It will be decades.”
My heart fell to the floor, my limbs going loose. I stared at the palms of my hands, seeing them as empty as how I felt on the inside. “Decades?” I mumbled.
I hadn’t noticed her moving towards me, but suddenly, Hecate’s hand was on my shoulder, her fingers resting there lightly. “That is the sacrifice. You will shed what little is left of you that is human. And you will stand guard at the door, always waiting to seal it when the Old Ones come knocking. And I assure you: they will come.”
My fingers clenched and unclenched, and I looked up into Hecate’s face, more frustrated and terrified than ever of the wavering mirage of her face. I needed something human to connect to, someone to tell me I was still doing the right thing.
“I can’t do that, Hecate. Not to the people I love.”
A different voice cut through the room, cold and icy. “Actually, it sounds like you’re perfectly capable of doing just that.”
My head whipped around to find Herald standing at the doorway. His face was even, unemotional, which only made things so much worse. I knew he was angry, absolutely furious. That he refused to show it told me volumes of its intensity.
“Herald,” I croaked. “How much did you hear?”
“Everything,” he said coolly. “Or at least enough to tell me that you’re doing the dumbest thing you’ve ever done in your life.”
I flinched, turning just long enough to check on Hecate, already aware that she was gone. “You know why I have to do this,” I told him. “You know the consequences if I don’t.”
He said nothing. He could have shouted at me, punched me, thrown me out of his apartment, but the silence was so much worse.
“Look,” I said. “You know how much I care for you. But I have to weigh everything against what will happen to the rest of the world. If I have to go away for – ”
My voice trailed off, because even I wasn’t stupid enough to ask Herald to wait for me, to ask any of my loved ones to wait for me. By the time I reformed in my domicile, whatever the hell that meant, they would be long gone. Dead. Once, ages ago, Sterling told me that all his loved ones died out before him. The weight of his words finally came crashing back down on me in that moment.
“I wish you would have told me,” Herald said. “I wish we could have had a discussion about this. How many more things are you hiding from me?”
“Nothing,” I said, leaping off the couch, desperately wanting to close the gap between us. “I swear. There’s nothing else.”
I hadn’t even stepped any closer and Herald had already backed away. He wanted so badly to physically distance himself from me, and it hurt that much more.
“You know that I would kill for you,” he said. “Do anything to protect you. I would freeze the world if it meant that you would be safe from harm. Instead I helped you find one of the swords that were meant to take you away from me all along.”
My hand lifted, and my lips parted, like my body was struggling for something to do, or to say, but nothing came. My arms fell to my sides. “I’m sorry,” I said.
The soft, yellow light of Herald’s apartment glinted against his glasses, making it difficult to see his eyes just then, but instinctively, I knew he wasn’t angry anymore. My heart clenched yet again. I’d never seen him cry. I’d never meant to make him cry.
“I think you should go,” he said quietly, his voice harder than it should be.
“Herald, please, we should talk this – ”
“You want to talk this out now?” He hadn’t raised his voice at all, but the words sliced me like a knife. “After I’ve already helped you take another step towards your own doom? No. No more talking. This isn’t the time. Not like this. Please. Just go.”
I picked up my things, the bottom of my backpack dragging against the floor. I felt like my heart was there, too, smearing blood as it limped along beside me. Herald stood at the doorway to his apartment, waiting for me to leave. I almost bent in to touch him – to kiss him, to stroke his hair, I don’t know, to do anything – but every inch I moved towards him, he moved away farther.
“I’m sorry,” I said, because there was nothing else left to say.
As Herald slowly shut the door, I saw the first tear fall. “I’m sorry, too.”
Chapter 20
We didn’t talk after that. Herald didn’t answer any of the five text messages I’d sent him, but neither did I expect him to. I’d done too much, asked too much. All that time I was worried about something as stupid as finding Bastion attractive, when it turned out I was hiding far worse things from him.
On purpose? I suppose it was. How do you tell someone that your entire existence has been funneled towards one horrific, ultimate act? That there’s no other choice but to sacrifice yourself in the most literal sense of the word? That was where my road began with the Eldest, with Thea, with the Dark Room. And sacrifice was where it was going to end, where everything was going to end.
But it was selfish to keep Herald out of it, to keep my father
and all the others in the dark. I understood more than ever why Sterling was so angry with me. Herald would freeze the world for me, he said. I knew that my friends would have done the same.
Yet this wasn’t their burden. This was mine. And as days passed, things only got worse. The spontaneous combustion in France was only one of the many incidents worldwide that happened within the same span of minutes. I didn’t think it was ever reported in the media, that actual coincidence of so many people dying, so many accidents occurring within five crucial minutes, but it was how the human mind worked.
We look for patterns everywhere, to make sense of a universe built on numbers and random occurrences. But knowing that hundreds died at the same time on the same night, all over the world? That pattern was too much to bear. Couldn’t have happened. A freak coincidence. But happen it did. Humanity has created so many weapons, so many armaments, but denial has always been among its strongest.
The news reports had come in thick and fast, human disasters that were clustered too close together to be mere coincidence. Twenty children gone missing from a rural Thai village, their beds discovered empty. A mine in Japan collapsed in on itself, a sinkhole that swallowed a tiny community in Africa. All signs of Agatha’s killings.
Several more incidents must have been left out of the news. Places too remote for the media to pick up, maybe. Gil had made it his personal goal to track down all the stories he could find, all of them corresponding to that same night, that same hour. Now we knew what those thirteen crimson stars meant. They were all part of the same ritual. But a ritual for what? Astronomers took note of them, too, “anomalous curiosities,” they called the stars, not a warning, or an ominous threat. If only they knew. But denial is our strongest weapon.
We alerted the Lorica, and we would have to assume that the Lorica informed the Hooded Council and their global counterparts in turn. But that was the worst thing. Nothing had been heard of Agatha Black since that night. The Lorica had injured enough of its Eyes trying to track her movements, but suddenly, radio silence. We had to move, and fast.
We gathered again, those same friends and I, in the silent corridors of the Boneyard, specifically in Carver’s office. He’d decided on our next target. We still needed to acquire a sword from one of the gods, and based on Carver’s deduction, there was no sense arguing with him about it. The plan seemed perfect.
“I’ve identified the ideal candidate,” Carver said. “And according to our little god-detector here, that candidate is somewhere in Southeast Asia. Somewhere among the rainforests of Sabah, in Malaysian Borneo.”
Gil cracked his knuckles. “Wow, a rainforest? Count me in.”
“A mountain, to be exact,” Carver said, raising one finger. “The deity in question is currently airborne, so we’ll need to ascend to higher peaks to access them.”
I raised my hand. “Quick question. You did say god-detector, didn’t you?”
“You are not mistaken.” Carver squatted and held his hands out, and Banjo came running out from under his desk, leaping straight into his arms. “Banjo here will help us track our quarry.”
I groaned. “We’re looking for Odin again? Isn’t he locked in some kind of battle to the death with Loki?”
“It is precisely what we are hoping for.”
Asher raised his hand. “Other question. Last time we saw Odin, he did something to Banjo, removed the rune from his forehead. Do you mean to say that it didn’t actually erase any of Banjo’s powers?”
Carver nodded. “That is correct. It only deleted Odin’s ownership, signifying that Daddy’s Little Murderer now does indeed belong to Daddy and Daddy alone. The gods are very particular about matters of ownership and possession.” He sniffed, throwing a casual glance at the katana strapped to Sterling’s hip. “It is why we cannot use Susanoo’s blade for Dustin’s ritual.”
So Carver agreed with Herald’s assessment, then. I threw a a quick look at Susanoo’s sword, then caught a glimpse of Sterling’s face by accident. He grimaced at me disapprovingly, then huffed as he look away. Great. Like I needed to be reminded that both Sterling and Herald hated me.
“Now,” Carver said. “If everyone is prepared, I’d like for all of us to be in attendance this time. The Boneyard is as sufficiently warded as it will ever be. We must be properly equipped to defend ourselves in case Zeus or Poseidon decide to show their faces once more.”
Sterling rolled his neck, the joints in his shoulders popping. “We’ll be ready for them.”
Mason stepped closer to our huddle, preparing himself for the sending spell. “We’ll deal with whatever comes our way.”
From Carver’s arms, Banjo pitched in as well. “Arf.”
“Then if we’re all prepared.”
Carver waved his hands, his fingers leaving traces of pale amber fire in the air. Then he gestured at the ground. Beneath us, flames erupted from the cracks in the stone floor of the Boneyard, a place that I’d called home for so, so long. As we vanished, I asked myself if I was ready to say goodbye to it, the way I would need to say goodbye to everyone I loved.
I wondered if I truly was so ready to go.
Chapter 21
I blinked as we reappeared in reality, clearing the haze of teleportation magic out of my eyes as I did my routine package check. What I should have checked for was my lungs.
It wasn’t just the atmosphere, either, though it was certainly thin, and cold. All the breath had truly left my body. I’d never been on a mountain before – I never had reason to go, let’s be honest. But something about this place was so ancient, so primal, the land surrounding it silver and green under the light of an enormous moon. Being so high up, seeing nothing but rainforest and fields for so far around, palpably knowing that you’re just a speck in the grand scheme of things – it was genuinely humbling. The mountain itself was a peak of blue and gray and brown, stalwart, majestic. It felt as though I could touch the clouds.
“Oh my God,” Asher muttered.
“I mean, I guess it’s okay,” Sterling said. Asher glared at him. Good old bad Sterling.
“Now,” Carver said. “Once all of you have collected your respective jaws from the ground, remember, we need to stay on our best behavior. Mount Kinabalu is a protected site, but it’s also a tourist spot.” He ran his finger up and down the mountain. “There are rest stops at various intervals, where climbers pause to sleep for the night. Try your best not to cause a ruckus.”
I threw my hands up. “But we’re here looking for gods in the middle of a death match. What are the chances of us keeping everything quiet?”
Carver examined his nails. “Slim to minimal, if I am to be perfectly honest. But we will do our best. If Odin and Loki draw attention to themselves, so be it. All we need is the sword, and we will be fine. Now, follow me.”
We followed Banjo, rather, his eyes glowing a faint blue as we ascended what was left of the mountain. He was taking us to some plateau, one we could see from below. Carver gestured beyond me as we walked past one of the rock formations. I did a double take when I caught sight of it, because it looked very much like a human face.
“There is a story here,” Carver said solemnly. “That once, a wealthy Chinese prince found himself stranded right here in Sabah, on the island of Borneo. He fell in love with a girl, and was treated as well as one of the locals, but part of him knew that his destiny was not to remain on these shores. He needed to go far, far away, to return where he belonged.”
Carver’s eyes flitted pointedly towards me as he said that. He had, as always, no way of knowing that Herald and I were having a spat – if you could even call it just a spat – but as always, Carver got it in one.
“So the prince set sail for China, promising his bride that he would return to see her and Sabahan soil once he had settled his affairs. But his father, a great king, refused his request to return. He was a prince. He needed to marry someone of his status, not some common village girl.”
Carver gestured at the stone face aga
in, bowing his head with reverence. “And so the girl waited, and waited, climbing each day to this part of the mountain, looking far across the forests and the hills, hoping to catch a glimpse of her lost lover’s triumphant return.”
The stone face turned a faint, ghostly blue as Banjo looked at it, as he gave a small, somber whine. Carver knelt to rub him on the back of his head.
“Each day she climbed, hoping, wanting, waiting. And we all know how this ends. The prince never returned, remaining in China, as was his noble duty. And the girl, now a woman grown, an old crone, died on this very mountain, still looking across fields and forests and oceans, awaiting her beloved. And in their infinite compassion, the spirits of the mountain turned her to stone, so she may watch and wait forever.”
Carver didn’t look at me as he finished his story, but I felt it stab into me all the same. I wondered if Herald would wait for me. It wasn’t fair, I knew, and it was selfish to expect it. I gave the petrified woman one last, lingering look, bowing my head respectfully as we pressed on. I couldn’t ask that of Herald, of anyone I loved.
We moved onwards in silence, following the little blue searchlights emanating from Banjo’s eyes. My mind was still distant when Mason brushed up against me, nudging me with his elbow.
“Hey,” he said softly.
“Hi.”
“Listen,” he said. “It’s going to be okay.”
I gave him a puzzled look. “Huh?”
“I was already awake when you came in this morning. You normally stay over at Herald’s, but not last night, and even if you do come home in the morning, it’s just before he goes to work.”
I frowned as I stared at him in silence, trying my hardest not to look so impressed.
“And you looked bummed as hell when you walked in. Shit, you look bummed as hell right now, even worse when Carver finished his story.”
I cocked an eyebrow, incredulous. “You spying on me, Mason?”