Page 128 of The Lost Reliquary
“It was a bad idea, making us work together. Always was. Should have kept us at each other’s throat.” I reach through the bars, fingertips just able to brush the back of his hand. I’m not sure why I do it; any past contact was out of necessity. Or maybe that’s exactly why. Outside of the Cathedral, the people in your life come with pats on the back, an arm around a shoulder, a hand on yours when the world has gone dark. Not that we’d know. Nolan looks down at the touch. He doesn’t engage with it. But he doesn’t pull away either. “Nolan, if I mean anything to you…” I suck in a breath. “No, fuck that. Mercy—that’s what I’m after. The kind I need, not the kind the Goddess wants to give. And that mercy is sharp.”
Nolan stares at me. The air around us stretches, goes taut.
“Please…”
His hand twitches, moving closer to his belt.
Then freezes.
Horror spreads on his face as my weak hope shatters. He starts shaking his head. I don’t even know if he realizes it at first, but the motion increases.
“No,” he says. “I won’t. I’m not going to help you hurt yourself.” He leans closer. “Lys, you have to live.”
I pull my hand back, grip the bars again. “What’s going to happen to me isn’t living.”
“Yes, it is!” The words are strained. “Why must you be so damn stubborn? You will be alive, together with the Goddess, part of the greatest thing left in this world. And…” He falters. “And you’ll still be here…” His voice fades, going so quiet I can barely hear. Then, his hands find mine, wrapping around them. “Please, Lys.” The words plead.Beg. “Let me serve youboth.”
His fingers tighten. Mine grip cold iron. I stare at him, the weak spots in my resistance becoming clear, threatening to give way the way his almost did moments ago. I can almost imagine it—it’s not really losing, for either of us, if I become the avatar. The bond we’ve formed remains, after a fashion. And maybe I won’t lose myself to the Goddess too quickly. Maybe there is some way to trade on my knowledge of Osiron, bargain some kind of peace between the two deities. There’s an undeniable appeal to the fantasy of it.
But that’s all it is, one more fantasy.
Osiron wants the last of their siblings gone. I won’t be a skin worn by Tempestra. And Nolan… there’s no changing him. There never was. For whatever grew between us, the soil is the same as it was when we started this misadventure. Always the same obedient, devout,loyalNolan. No matter what edge I ended up on, he was always going to push me over.
I extract my fingers from Nolan’s, gut aching as his touch falls away, the hope in his eyes fading to disappointment.
“It’s a nice thought,” I say simply, and turn away.
I focus on the hollow thump of my heart until he speaks again.
“They’ll come for you no matter what. Youwillbe the next avatar.”
“Then it won’t be much different from when we were kids. Except this time, I know I have a choice. And this time I choose to not be part of my own corruption.”
I close my eyes, saying nothing more as a hot frustration builds in them. And keep them closed until, eventually, Nolan stands, makes his way over to the door.
And leaves me behind.
Fifty
The hour grows near. The devoted gather. There is no greater hour in their lives than that which will be witnessed here, today.
—WRITINGS OF PRIOR RAOLF, FROM THE FINAL HOURS OF THE ERA OF TEMPESTRA-ENOCH
IAM WATCHED.ALL DAY,all hours. Two Cathedral Guard and a Prior keep an eye on little old me while I eat, sleep, pace, piss—all to make sure I don’t try to do anything drastic. Maybe Nolan ratted me out to Tempestra-Innara. Maybe they were simply smart enough to know that I’d find any escape I could. I still give it a go, spending hours scheming, picking apart my surroundings as I search for some way to end it all before the Goddess gets to see the last card up my sleeve. Starvation or refusing water is out; can’t wait that long. Which leaves scouring the meager contents of my cell instead, for anything that might choke or puncture or cut.
But I’ve got nothing. Where’s a giant bottomless hole in the ground when you need one?
Three days later I am irritatingly still alive. But well rested. Which is a strange sensation when mixed with hopelessness. On this morning, I decide to pray. Pointless, but Tempestra-Innara’s followers believe they hear their devotions, or at least get the gist of them. Maybe it’s trueand Osiron is the same. Maybe if I pray hard enough, they’ll be tipped off and get as far away as possible before Tempestra-Inna—before Tempestra-Mestarts hunting them and their followers down. I do it soundlessly, lying in my prison bed, without clasped hands or lowered head or anything else that might draw attention.
But I do pray.
You probably can’t hear this…I try to picture Osiron as the divine being they are, but in my thoughts, they shift to Rion, with an easy smile and a dirty book.But I’m sorry for what’s about to happen. To me, and then to you. To Avery. I hope you all got out of the city okay. I hope that you’ve gotten somewhere safe. And I hope—this is the part I wish for more than anything else—that I won’t have to look into your eyes as the Goddess uses my muscle and bone to kill you.
It’s a shit prayer. But I’m a shit devotee, so it is what it is.
On the fourth morning, I hear the sound of footsteps. More than the normal shift change, at least half a dozen people approaching. But when the door opens, only Caius enters. He is wearing an Arbiter’s formal cassock, extra clean and pressed, not a speck of dust marring the stark white. He dismisses the Prior and guards on duty but doesn’t close the door after them.
I go cold, mustering a lazy smile regardless. “Time already?” He’d clearly rather gut me than escort me anywhere. Which would be preferable for the both of us, but I don’t bother to point it out. “I don’t get a fancy outfit or anything?”
