Page 107 of The Lost Reliquary
It was only when the gods arrived, vivid in their potency, did the Devoted Lands truly understand what had always been there, just beyond knowing, ripe to ascend. The gods are of this land; divinity is its blood.
—FRAGMENT UNEARTHED NEAR THE SHADOWED VALLEY, TITLE AND AUTHOR UNKNOWN (RESTRICTED TEXT)
CREATING GODS.AS IFit were as common as baking a loaf of bread.
“You want tomakenew gods.”
“Hmm.” Rion tips his head pensively. “Make, in this regard, would be one of those words scholars and philosophers would fall over themselves to endlessly debate. But essentially, yes.” His gaze moves up, around. “I sense them, almost always. They are never far. Beyond some veil, in that space between what is and what isn’t… there are more. Given an opportunity for flesh, some will listen. Some will come.”
I flick a finger toward Avery and the other heretics. “Is that what you offer them then? The chance to become an avatar for a newly minted divinity?”
“Absolutely not.” Rion sounds insulted by the suggestion. “Unlike my siblings, I don’t use divinity as a bribe to buy—or force—loyalty, or pluck children like flowers to use them to control the rest of theirdevoted.” He gestures. “Everyone here is present because theywantto be. Ask them, if you like. Over the years we have planned and spied, spread rumors, fanned the smoldering embers of dissent… even infiltrated, as you’ve already learned. We have cultivated beliefs like the return of the old gods because it serves our purpose. And every single one of my followers has contributed in their own way. But not for the promise of reward. Because they believe in a world beyond the fallen, failed divinities.”
Belief.Faith. That whole fucking thing again. Faith that the Whisperer will bring about something better than what is, or what used to be. I don’t have to ask Avery if he agrees. He practically glows with conviction, reminding me of Tempestra-Innara’s most fervent devoted.
Of Nolan.
Oh, to have the slightest clue of how he’d react to this.
“New gods,” I say again. The words taste like madness in my mouth.
“New gods,” Rion echoes. “To serve humanity instead of rule; to help advance, instead of keep intentionally ignorant and subservient. And no more innocents”—he locks eyes with me—“forced or manipulated into the service of faith.”
A promise of unfathomable depth. A promise brimming with choice. My mouth opens to speak, hangs there for several seconds before I know what I want to say. “How do I know you’re not lying? That you don’t want to—I don’t know—enslave the Devoted Lands once the way is clear?”
“Because if I’d wanted to do that, I would have millennia ago, alongside my siblings.” Rion’s answer is simple, unadorned. “Fear is its own kind of devotion, just like love. My siblings understood that, used whichever served them best. But that’s not what I envision.” He shifts in his seat. “Lys, no pantheon is built in an hour, a day, even a century. The process is… draining, to say the least. And when I called out before, I did not take the time to consider who answered. What kind of divinity they might become. I have since shed that youthful ignorance. What I want to do, the world I want to build, will be careful. Meticulous. And measured out over time.”
Which means I won’t be around to see most of it. That’s what Rion’ssaying. That I’ll be rotted away long before his vision comes to full fruition. Freedom in this life, all for the low, low cost of not worrying about any future consequences of my actions.
It’s a deal that sounds better than I want to admit.
Rion stands. “Let’s take a little walk, Lys. Have a private chat. You can see some more of the tunnels.”
I’ve seen enough of them to last a god’s lifetime. But when Rion moves, so do I, following him out of the chamber into another dimly lit passage. And then—
I am alone with the Whisperer. Somehow, this is worse than having the veiled heretics hovering around. The lack of divine sensation—a feeling I am so used to while being in Tempestra-Innara’s presence—is like a void between us. An unnerving dead space opened up by knowledge. How did I never sense this before, in all the hours I spent with Rion? How stupid am I to have completely missed that I was drinking tea and browsing books with agod?
I smirk to hide my thoughts. “Now comes the part where you try to bribe me, right? Offer me power? Riches?”
Rion chuckles. “No power, no riches. I only ever offer anyone what they actually want. You were partially right back there, though—some of my followersdodesire to become an avatar, when and if the time comes. They don’t fully understand what that means, of course, but that is why I must be as careful in choosing them as I am in choosing the power I call into this world. Of course, if any of them were to find the experience disagreeable, we would simply find the divinity another host.”
At first, I’m revolted that Rion would spend his followers lives so callously. Then I understand what he isreallysaying. “Wait… avatars aren’t permanent?”
Rion gives me a patient, knowing smile, one that makes it clear that he purposefully led me into the question. “They don’t have to be. But that bit of truth never served my siblings, most of whom preferred to choose their avatar, tempt or force themselves into the skin of their choice. The Shadow God was an exception; they moved from avatar to avatar quite often, only occasionally settling in one for an extendedperiod. Of course, none of the gods lacked for volunteers, but you’ve read the texts. The allowed ones, at least. Even they speak about how the gods typically went into seclusion after taking a new avatar.”
“The scholars said it was so the deity could commune with their new form. Find balance.”
“More like to confirm it didn’t fade too quickly, and cement their control over it,” says Rion. “Oh, for sure, the divinity will always triumph if it’s a struggle between the two. But for a period of time, it is still possible for the god to separate from the avatar without lasting effects to either.”
An almost giddy shiver races through me at this new information. At the understanding that so much more than I ever imagined has been kept secret. I’m so deep in my thoughts that I don’t realize, at first, that Rion has stopped in front of a massive wall deeply carved with sea creatures. But there’s a difference between it and the others I’ve seen. Here the creatures are only bones, a tangle of ribs and spines.
“Dramatic, isn’t it?” Rion pokes beneath the backbone of some huge fish. There’s a click, and a door opens, expertly disguised within the motif. It seems like a terrible idea to go into some unknown room hidden behind skeletons, but I’m beyond fear at this point. Or even curiosity. I’ve gone so far past any expectations that I doubt I would blink an eye even if I found the Princess of Belspire within the chamber, leading a troupe of performing rats while naked.
But there are no rats or royalty. What there is, is a corpse.
Or parts of one. Old, desiccated limbs stretched out on a stone table within a chamber shaped like a beehive, with a series of niches cut into the wall. A mortar and pestle, knives, and various other implements are scattered across the platform. There’s no head on the body, or pelvis, and only about two-thirds of a rib cage. As far as I can tell.
“Okay, so no bribes.” My mouth suddenly tastes like I’ve been sucking iron. “Threats, instead?”
