Page 94 of Beyond the Shadowed Earth

The god of the mountain, on his knees, was taller than Eda. His hair was white as snowy peaks, his skin speckled gray like stone. His eyes were a startling, vibrant green.

“All the sorrows of the world are my fault,” said the god. “And so I sit here, and watch them, so I will understand the gravity of what I have done. So I will feel every wound and every tear. The One did not see fit to punish me. And so I punish myself.”

Eda stared at him, the old anger rushing back. “You did this toyourself? Locked the Circles? Trapped the Dead? The world is tearing itself apart because of you!”

“I bound myself to the world’s sorrow—those are the chains that keep me here. I cannot be free of them, even if I wished to be. Locking the Circles happened by accident. I never meant to trap the Dead, never meant to poison the world.”

“The world isdying! Spirits are breaking through the cracks, escaping from the void where they were banished. Your Shadow—Rudion—is leading them. They’re murdering people. Devouring life.”

“Soon they will swallow the sun.”

Eda followed Tuer’s gaze to one of the mirrors, which showed a score of the winged spirits attacking a village by the sea. Bodies were strewn like rag dolls on the beach; the spirits’ bone swords dripped crimson. She had to shut her ears against the screaming. “THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!”

“Yes, it is.” Tuer crouched back on his heels, watching her sadly. Knowingly.

Eda paced around him, itching to draw the knife and be done with it, but she didn’t have her answers yet, and she forced her hand to be still. “Why did you make Rudion call me here? Why did you take Niren and the Empire from me?Why,when I did everything you asked? I built you a temple. I began the priesthood again. I would have reinstated religion across the Empire if you’d given me a chance. Instead—instead, you ripped everything away. My husband, my home, my country, my—mysister—”

“You did not do everything I asked,” said Tuer quietly.

Eda wheeled on him. “Yes. I did.”

He shook his great head, a strange light of humor in his eyes. “It was never about the Empire. It was never really about Niren. It was always about you, Eda Mairin-Draive. All the sorrows of the world play endlessly before me, and sometimes, they allow me to see the future. And so I knew you would make a bargain with me. I knew that, in your mind, I would fail you. And I knew that it would make you so angry you would be compelled to journey all this way. To find me. To have your revenge.”

“So you could make me the next Bearer of Souls,” Eda snapped. “I know.”

“The Bearer of Souls?” Tuer frowned. “You are not the Bearer of Souls.”

Something wrenched inside of her, and Eda grew suddenly still. “Then who is?”

“Niren, of course. The gods chose her as the Bearer long ago. I thought you had figured that out by now. I allowed you to think you were sacrificing Niren, when you promised her to me as earnest, but the gods would have taken her without regard to any deal you did or did not make. Niren’s life was never yours. It was never hers. It always belonged to the gods.”

Eda’s world shifted sideways. “She deserved a choice.”

“And she was given one, but that does not concern you, little one.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not a child anymore.”

“Dearest, you are all children to me.”

She scowled at him, her nails digging hard into the hilt of the godkiller.

“When I came here, centuries ago, I did not realize what my self-punishment would inflict on Endahr. I did not know that with every strand of sorrow I drew from the world and bound to myself I chipped away at the doors I had made, until they shut and locked and could not be opened again, not even by the Bearer of Souls. They’ve been sealed twenty years, now. But Raiva made a plan, as Raiva always does.”

Pain creased the god’s forehead, but Eda’s anger only grew.

“Did you know she’s tried to free you countless times? Did you know she’s come here, sat with you, knelt with you, wept with you? That she couldn’t find a way to free you?”

“I know,” said Tuer heavily. “Of course I know. I can see her light, always. It gives me strength. But there is only one way to free me, and I would never ask it of her, so I pretend I cannot see her. I pretend I do not know she is there, because if she knew—if she knew, she would sacrifice herself for me in an instant. There are many sorrows I can endure, many pains I could bear, but I could not bear that.”

Eda hated the pity that twisted through her, almost as much as she hated him. “Why isyoursorrow,yoursuffering, more important than anyone else’s? Why would you not allow her to free you, when it could unlock the doors and heal the cracks in the world and stop the spirits from leaking out? How can you be so SELFISH?”

“What will you do, little one, when you have killed me?”

Eda realized she’d drawn the godkiller by accident. It wavered before her, its light flashing white-hot. She gritted her teeth. “When you are dead, I will journey back the way I came. I will return to Enduena, and raise an army, and take back my Empire. I will pull your temple down stone by stone and burn whatever is left to ashes. Because the people do not need the gods. They only need themselves and their Empress. I will lead them into a golden age. I will conquer all the world, and it will bow to me.”

“And that will make you happy?”

The god’s quiet voice echoed oddly in the vast chamber. Eda stared at him, biting her lip so hard she tasted blood. “Why did you call me? WHY DID YOU CALL ME?”

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