Page 200 of Children of Fallen Gods

Max let out a puff of air through his teeth and shook his head, his body language declaring his rejection before his words did:No. Absolutely fucking not.

And yet, a small part of me that felt the terrible silence in my magic where there had once been such power… and would be willing to do anything to bring that back.

But then, the memory flooded over me. The sensation of that pallid flesh against my fingers. That box of horrific, meaningless death. Those agonized screams.

I felt sick.

I couldn’t do this — couldn’t become a savior for another people when I still could not save my own.

“No. I have done this already. I have already traded myself away for someone else’s war. But where does that leave the people who need me? Do you expect me to abandon them so I can becomeyourweapon, instead?”

Ishqa gave me a sympathetic stare. “This is not someone else’s war. This will be your war, whether you like it or not.”

“Then why are you the one here?” Max demanded. “You’re here to save human civilization out of… what, benevolence?”

Ishqa’s mouth thinned. “Do I need a reason?”

Max looked at him as if that was an insultingly stupid response. And it was. All it told us was that Ishqa didn’t want to give us the real answer, which didn’t do much to inspire trust.

Frustration simmered beneath Ishqa’s pristine features. “I am telling you the truth. This is coming, even if you choose to ignore it. So what will you do, then? Nothing?”

Max’s mouth opened, then closed. He glanced at me, a silent conversation playing out between us.

“We cannot do anything here, right now,” I said. “We need…”

A minute. A minute to think. A minute to consider. Because right now, all of this feels like a twisted dream.

And that was answer enough for Max. He turned to Ishqa, jaw set.

“Send us back. I don’t know where the hell we are, so I can’t.”

Ishqa did not move for a long moment, then approached us, a folded piece of parchment between his fingers. His eyes searched our faces.

“If you want to leave, I will not stop you. But…take this, too.”

There, with the paper, he placed a silver-gold feather.

“Burn that when you have made a decision,” he said, “and I will come to you.”

Max unfolded the parchment, revealing a delicate Stratagram. And Ishqa stood there, still until the very last second, when he lurched forward.

“My son,” he said, his voice rough. “My son is among the Fey that are missing. I feel the same anger my king does, the same desire to burn down this world that has taken him from me. To see your people destroyed for their part in it. But I have seen where that hatred leads. I’m coming to you as an ally and not an avenger.”

He stepped back, and the world was already starting to dissolve as he said, “Think about what I have said. Please.”

Chapter Seventy

Max

Nura threw open the door and just stood there, eyes wide, as if she was looking at a pair of ghosts.

Her jacket wasn’t white anymore. Half of it was soaked through with spatters of crimson, and the rest was covered in strange stains that bloomed the color of withering flowers.

We all looked at each other in bewildered silence.

Tisaanah and I had barely made it to the Towers. And I wasn’t even completely surewhywe came here, of all places — perhaps it was only because now, we literally had nowhere else to go. Ishqa’s Stratagram got us to Ara, and I managed to get us to the Towers after that, though my magic was so weak it was a struggle. We made quite a stir when we landed. Of course. We were half dressed, covered in blood, and generally looked insane.

Well, I was willing to embrace that image. Ifeltinsane. I had grabbed the nearest person wearing an Orders sigil and demanded to see Nura.

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