Page 119 of A Kiss From Death
Pulling away, I kiss her forehead and thank her for working her magic on me once again. She tries to fluff my dress for the eighth time, even though it’s already perfect. “Stop fussing over me and go, or you’re not gonna have enough time to get yourself ready for the ceremony.” She looks me up and down, ready to protest, but I shove her towards the door. “I look perfect. Now go before I shove you out the door myself.”
Throwing a playful glare over her shoulder, she disappears out the door and down the hall. As soon as the door shuts, I let out one, long breath as nerves and anticipation take over.
Looking at the clock, I note I have exactly twenty minutes until Hade promised to collect me from my room for the ceremony, which is enough time to conduct my plan. I silently slip out into the hallway, towards the one place I’ve been dying to visit, born from pure curiosity and unease.
It won’t help me now, but I’m still dying to know if it’s still there and what it could be. As I approach the hidden library, my heart threatens to rip from my chest to the floor.
I stop at the door, apparently not thinking this plan through when I realize I’m locked out without Hade. One of the tendrils of Hade’s magic woven into my dress slithers up, wrapping around the handle and pushing it open. The door recognizes his magical signature; it opens with ease, allowing me access.
My lungs deflate as the anxiety buzzing under my skin dissipates a fraction, but not completely. Walking through the door, it closes behind me, and I take in the dark, empty space riddled with old and new books.
Getting onto my hands and knees, I knock on each wooden floorboard, listening to any that sound hollow beneath. After ten minutes of crawling around, I stop dead in my tracks when one knock vibrates with a different tune, as if there’s a pocket beneath it.
Wedging my nails in the crack, I pry the floorboard up, and my eyes widen when I note a single leather bound book placed within.
The birthday gift the journals mentioned.
Carefully, I snatch it out of the cavity and stride over to the worn leather chair Hade favors. Settling into the indent he’s made, I drag my finger across the weathered cover.
“The Tale of Gods,” I whisper, dragging my finger over each letter of the title.
A fable book? Why would a book of fables be so important to hide within the floorboards, only to be found when the time is right? Seeing as it’s covered in dust and cobwebs, I conclude it was never found or retrieved until now.
Why was the mother referenced in the journals so intent on this gift? Did she leave a special note hidden within? Is it a family heirloom passed down through the generations? I try not to be discouraged, but I’m slightly disappointed in my findings.
Even though the Crucible is over, the riddle the Empress gave us has been sitting at the forefront of my brain, nagging me to find the answer. It feels too important to ignore, even now, when it won’t save me from anything except my annoyingly overbearing need to know the answer.
My curiosity gets the best of me, and I open to page one, reading over the table of contents.Family Tree, Creation, Checks and Balances, Legacy, Recorded Powers,and finally,TheCorruption of Dark Magic.
Opening it to the section titledCreation, I start reading.
The creation of a god is set forth long before one is birthed into power. It is a complex and widely unknown system created by Mother Nature herself and is up to her sole discretion. No one knows why she chooses who she does, only the patterns of her maternal giftings.
Every five thousand years, god blood runs true in one person of her choosing. A drop of it runs through their very veins, starting from birth, and grows with them over time. Mother Nature will test her new subject with trials and tribulations, studying their decisions and moral compass.
If they pass each of her trials, in their sixteenth year of life, exactly five thousand years after the previous blessing, she will bless them with the ability to become one of the ruling gods. Their full magical abilities will bloom in that year, granting them immortality and the official knowledge of their new title.
Each god is widely known to be stronger and more powerful than the last, as Mother Nature herself has become pickier over the years, stringent on only turning out perfection. The hierarchy of gods govern in a faraway land called Ouranos that has never been studied due to its classified and unattainable nature. There is no knowledge of where this land sits, or what it entails.
No one is perfect, even Mother Nature herself, and as such, there may be unprecedented times when a faulty god is chosen and starts as something almighty and pure but turns towards evil temptation. While this is rare and few and far between, it is not entirely ruled out.
Gods are born from raw power, and as such, crave the very being that make them up. They are picked to strive and be the best, and being the best means having an abundance of power to manipulate and rule over the mortals.
While Mother Nature creates and molds her gods, she does not govern them. They are to be perfect children, and fall into a hierarchy best fit to mold and support the mortals in their need for endless guidance.
When a new god emerges, they are to mentor under the wing of the current top god and take over as the superior god with their abundance of raw power, as they will always be gifted with more power than the last. The gods are ever evolving, learning from past endeavors and remaining superior above all else.
They are to guide and mold society to success, each god handpicked to support in each role needed to mold society into a working, unbreakable system.
My mind whirls with this new information, an uneasiness settling deep in the pit of my stomach. Is this really a fable, or is there some truth behind the text? Deciding to dig further, I flip to the front of the book, looking over the family tree. My finger drags down each name, all branching to fill the page until I get to the last recorded god.
Airestol Stacardi.
Looking at the date etched next to his name, I do the math and notice he was blessed into an immortal five thousand and four years ago. Under his name is a blank space that should have been filled out four years ago, marking a new god’s emergence. The line sits empty and waiting, as if forgotten over time.
Maybe they forgot to fill it out. Maybe it truly is a fable. Maybe the new god did not pass the tests. Or maybe this text was transcribed and has not been updated in a long time.
I go to flip to the next section, curious to dive into the world of the gods, but then my attention catches on the clock on the wall, and I curse under my breath. I have exactly two minutes before Hade knocks impatiently at my door; if I know anything about him, it’s that he is always punctual andhatesbeing late.
