Page 18 of Torn

It’s not a forgery. It’s from the Peaks. It proves the legend is true.

How had Malice obtained this legendary loophole?

The rage god flashes his canines. “I like knowing things as much as I like hurting things. Before I was exiled, I prowled the Archives, particularly the Hollow Chamber. For a dumping ground of outdated and useless publications, have you ever puzzled over why it’s got a restricted section?”

No, because Anger already knows the reason.

“Not a bad place to stash inconspicuous secrets, eh? With its reputation for worthless subjects?” Malice continues. “Who would suspect anything of value in the Chamber, even in a barred area? Trespassing into a banned domain is excellent for rooting out information that the Fate Court doesn’t want advertised. Consider this scroll a consolation prize for my troubles. In other words, I stole it. Why? Because I could.”

“I’d wager you craved a talisman,” Anger disputes. “And it’s the only proof you have that there’s a way to restore yourself.”

“Sure. Give or take.”

“What’s your age?”

“One-hundred and fifty-five. Why do you ask?”

Five decades younger than Anger and his classmates. Deities come of age at fifty, so he and his peers had just been sent to the mortal realm when Malice was born. During his upbringing, they would have seen him only upon return visits home every ten years. In those brief intermissions, any member of his class could have gotten a glimpse of Malice. If they’d been in the right place, at the right time.

Anger knows another goddess who frequents the Archives. “Have you ever crossed paths with Wonder?”

“The voluptuous wildflower?” Malice contemplates. “I saw her once or twice. She was too busy being an elite goddess and doing her own research in the Archives to notice me. Again, why do you ask?”

“No reason.”

Every reason. While growing up in the Peaks, Anger’s bygone peer had uncovered a controversial scroll of her own in the Chamber. To their class—exclusivelyto their class—Wonder had later exposed the restricted section as a deception, a melting pot of unobtrusive secrets.

Malice is too young to have somehow unmasked her actions. And if he’s telling the truth, he never bothered to shadow her.

He saw through the Chamber’s camouflage on his own.

Malice visibly dissects Anger’s response and then disregards it. He reiterates that he was banished when he came of age, never getting to serve the human realm. “I was a consistent miscreant and often called solitary confinement my home. That demoted me quite a bit until the Court stopped finding it funny. I’ve been an exile for just over a century. Not enough time to rot, but plenty of time to brood.”

“You’re so generous, you’d offer me this chance to reclaim my place, with no benefit of your own.”

“There you go again, putting words into my mouth.”

“Again, I was being sarcastic.”

“Again, I wasn’t. My price is elementary, maybe a little mutinous,” the delinquent says. “Once you’ve restored yourself in the Peaks, do what’s needed to reinstate me. Why would you do that?” Malice uses two fingers to make a clipping scissor motion. “Two reasons. Empathy, of course. In banishment, we’ve both had our choices taken away, one rage god to another. Secondly, once you have me reinstated, I’ll make it worth the stress. How, you ponder?” He licks his lips. “Picture Love seeing you once more, even if it’s just for a moment. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Anger’s ribcage clenches, but he doesn’t care. The quiver knocks against him, but he doesn’t care. He would maim this demon god, but he doesn’t care.

He can’t move. Is what Malice says possible?

The misfit breaks down the rest of his proposition. His time in the Hollow Chamber has yielded more than one star-written legend. Because of that, he knows a way to remove the veil from Love, if only for a short spell, so that if Anger makes an appearance, she’ll be able to see him. Not in perfect detail but enough to feel her eyes on him once more. Remaining marginally concealed means it won’t be a threat to the Fates. No harm done.

Love won’t recognize Anger, but she will catch glimmers of him. He’ll feel the weight of her eyes, the press of her gaze on his skin. And perhaps he’ll be familiar to her. A little familiar.

All he has to do is break a heart.

A heart that’s already hopping like a bunny in his direction, that’s already begun to want him. Merry will recover, won’t she? Deities aren’t fragile like humans. He can do this without the effect being permanent.

And once Anger recoups himself in the Peaks, he’ll have the opportunity to reestablish Malice. And if he does that, Malice will lavish him with a gratuity.

A moment with Love. Just a moment.

True, deities aren’t capable of feeling love. Yet Anger has experienced something close to it, has known its preciousness, has despised its poisonous effect. It’s a pitiful condition, which needs to stop.

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