Page 108 of Torn

They need time. They need allies.

And so they begin to forge a plan. Or, at the very least, a springboard.

A few millennia are long enough for more than a handful to get banished. Whatever they think of fate and free will, of immortals versus mortals, plenty of exiles have a unified wish: to vindicate themselves and validate their places in the Peaks. If they’re approached with tact and thusly inspired, they might help.

As for the Peaks, there are certain residents who might like the sound of revolution. Many had ridiculed Anger for what he’d done in defense of Love. Others had been on his side, protesting his punishment, and were dismayed to see him go.

For instance, Anger and his peers will never be able to recruit Pride or Spite. But they might sway Confusion. Definitely, Guilt.

Their group goes through a list of plausible allies, extending from the Peaks to the Celestial City, the exiles who might be mobilized. Should they prevail, it’s also necessary to gauge which outcasts will rally against them, and who will have the stamina to tackle whom.

Knowing that lot best, Merry provides an overview of the likely scenarios.

Pity and Kindness can deal with Cruelty. Confidence can be on Shame duty. Courage will have dibs on Fear. Trust will take down Suspicion. Surprise can handle Shock.

Sorrow reconsiders candidates from the Peaks. “I’ll deal with Grief, so long as Hope and Joy back me up.”

Envy adjusts his shirt collar, a smarmy grin on his face. “I’ve got Pride and Spite.”

“As backup, I’ve got everyone covered,” Wonder finishes.

Andrew clears his throat. “I’m not an expert on deities, but I’m guessing the only one qualified to say that is Love.”

The group titters. Love gives Wonder a conciliatory wink, because her beau is correct. As the most malleable of emotions, Love is the only one equipped to go head-to-head with everyone.

“Fine,” Wonder concedes with a prim sigh. “Who’s left?”

Silence. Uncomfortable, murky silence.

Presently, Malice remains imprisoned in the library vault. He can’t do any harm. The erudite underworld bars his deviance from them, but whether he stays confined is another matter. Someone needs to keep an eye on him, to thwart him from plotting his way out of their grasp.

Wonder stiffens. Like a cane, her spine snaps into a rigid, upright posture.

Sorrow’s nose scrunches, crimping the bandage patched over her bridge. “Anger’s a more efficient warhorse against Malice. They’re both rage gods.”

“No,” Wonder says, her face blank, her intonation as hollow as a chasm. “Malice is mine.”

No one objects. But based on the cohesive looks, no one approves, either. And no one misses the shift in Wonder’s attitude, the decline in buoyancy. The petals of her corsage curl morosely.

In the meantime, being banished means she has suffered a reduction of power. This includes Envy and Sorrow, who have likewise been exiled as penance for their classmate’s rebellion.

Envy shrugs. “I’ve never liked the food in the Peaks.”

“I’ve never liked much,” Sorrow grunts.

“Shall we see what we can still do?” Envy asks.

Love is the first to hop from the grass like a pogo stick. “Is that a challenge?”

“Rubbish. You’re too rusty to challenge—”

A nocked arrow taps his nose before he finishes the sentence. “You were saying?” Love asks sweetly.

“Now we’re talking. How I’ve missed you.”

“How you’ll regret it.”

A whirlwind begins, a synchronization of movement from centuries of training. The five archers of their original class brandish bows and set forth. Somersaulting, tumbling, twisting.

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