Page 23 of The Deathless One
“I know that witches show themselves early in life. Nothing unexpected has ever happened around me. I have never levitated a candle. I have never spoken with animals or created a spell through cooking.” Jessamine’s hands shook as she curled them in her lap, trying her best to control the fear that suddenly made her heart race and sweat trail down her temples. “I know about witches. I have researched your kind my entire life, and I have prayed that I would find the answer to my kingdom’s sickness in your books, but I am not one of you.”
Perhaps it was the loss in her voice that had Sybil’s shoulders curving in on themselves. Jessamine liked to think maybe there was some ounce of pity in the witch, who had so far been nothing but a hard-edged fanatic disappointed in what she had found on the beach.
Sighing, Sybil settled on the pile of rags with her. “Not all witches are the same.”
“That’s not what the books say.”
“I’m not listening to anything from books written about our kind. Witches have been here for centuries, longer than anyone who has read or written books. Trust me, any book worth its salt was burned by your ancestors years ago. Or even longer before that.”
At least that settled some of her churning stomach. Sybil was right. No one would leave books like that lying around. No one wanted the witches to become powerful again.
“No one talks about what happened to you all,” she murmured. “Just that it was necessary for the good of the kingdom and that it happened right after all the gods died. Do you know the truth of it?”
“Ach, it’s a sad story. You just woke up from talking with the ancestors and you want to know that? You’re going to go right back into a nightmare.”
She didn’t want to think about those ink-covered creatures who hadbegged her to steal from a god. She didn’t want to even consider that they really had been in her mind, so yes, she wanted the distraction.
“Please?” she asked. “I have read so much about witches and witchcraft, and I know your people could help the kingdom if you wanted to. And I don’t believe you caused the plague, no matter what my ancestors claimed. I suppose that’s always been something that has confused me. Why won’t any of you help the kingdom now with this plague?”
Sybil took a deep breath. Her dark eyes searched Jessamine’s, and there was a moment of recognition there. A moment where the witch saw straight through her and into what she had seen in that dream.
Or maybe it wasn’t a dream, and that terrified Jessamine more than a nightmare ever could.
Sybil grunted. “Fine. You know the gods died?”
“On a spring day, according to the legends.”
“They didn’t want to die, according to legend. The gods used to be like us. Just people. But eventually they discovered that our worship turned them into something more, and they were so powerful compared to mere mortals, if we were foolhardy enough to give them that power. It was a family of them, or perhaps people who just called themselves family. The Warrior Son. The Heartless Maiden. The Deathless One. The God King. The names go on and on, for creatures more powerful than our minds could ever dream of.
“They eventually gained their own followings. The Heartless Maiden and her huntresses. The Warrior Son and his band of reckless soldiers, who prayed for strength and turned berserker. The Deathless One and his witches.” Sybil tapped a finger to her chin, her brows furrowing. “There was also the Wizened Crone. Priestesses worshipped her. Glorified witches, but they always held themselves to a higher standard. All the gods gave power in return for sacrifice. It was a loop, you see. We sacrificed to them, they grew stronger, and they shared an increment of that power with us.”
Jessamine snorted at the sarcasm in Sybil’s tone. “You speak of them like you were there.”
“I was.”
She blinked at the witch for a few moments, her jaw dropping open in shock. “What do you mean, you were?”
“Magic gives more than just power.” A soft movement, one of Sybil tucking her hands into her sleeves, before she continued. “Anyway, it was hard to worship so many gods without some people thinking theirs was more powerful than the others. Every faction seemed to hate another. Every sect of powerful magic users claimed to be more useful than the next. Magic boiled over from so many people using it and so many gods giving it, and then the plague appeared. We didn’t know where it came from, only that it was spreading rapidly. Everyone had their own opinions on how to fix it. Scholars, healers, none of them could touch the disaster that followed.
“The witches were the ones with the most power. The Deathless One has always been the most powerful conduit. He gave us more of himself than any of the others.”
Words whispered through Jessamine’s mind, a ghost of those dark creatures.Take from him. Rip from him.Tear her future out of his flesh and become something she had never dreamed of being.
Jessamine shook off those thoughts. “So the followers attacked each other because they wanted to be the ones to fix the plague? We’ve always been told that the plague happened after the gods died.”
“It is the lie we created. The plague happened first, and still no one knows where it came from. Everyone wanted to be the hero, and they focused more on each other than actually fixing the problem. My coven saw what was coming. The witches did what we had to do, what we had always done. We sacrificed our god and all our gravesingers combined to be given the most amount of magic this realm has ever seen, and the Deathless One has been trapped ever since.” Her frown deepened. “After we couldn’t cure the plague, everyone wanted someone to blame. They called our arts black magic, darkness incarnate. They claimed we were the reason for all the evils in the kingdom, and they hunted us. We were destroyed as so many other powerful sects banded together. A few of us survived, hiding as we always did.”
“What happened to the others?”
Sybil shrugged. “The gods died. No one knows how or when thathappened, perhaps only the Deathless One knows the truth. Their followers used up all the magic that their patrons had given them, and then there was nothing left. The berserkers became mere men. Priestesses lost their value when blessings no longer came true. Scholars lost the knowledge gifted them by the God King. Without the gods, we are nothing. What remained of those who worshipped attacked each other, and then almost all magic disappeared. We were left with what you see now.”
“A shell of what once was,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“It is like living in the skeleton of a leviathan you once knew well. There is still fear of its jaws and teeth that I walk through every day.” Sybil patted her knee and then stood. “But it is just a skeleton, my dear. All the things for you to fear are dead.”
An icy touch traveled her spine. “I think I might be dead, too. Should I fear myself?”
The words made Sybil shiver. Jessamine noticed the flick of Sybil’s fingers, the start of the same motion those men in the sewers had made. A motion that was meant to summon the Deathless One’s favor in times of need.
