Vanquished Gods (Hallowed Games #2)

Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

L eaving Percival and Maelor behind, I followed Sion down through a tunnel. “Where, exactly, are we going?” I asked.

“This was all sealed up at one point, lost to history. But Bran uncovered a passage to the gods’ ancient temples. After that, he started throwing the most amazing parties down here. Dancing, music, masques, and pageant performances inspired by the gods themselves. He staged a sun, moon, and stars–themed masquerade last year, and one for life and death. He dressed like the goddess of spring and serenaded me with a lute. You’ll see when he returns.”

I swallowed hard. No, I’m afraid I will not see. “Can’t wait.”

“I think the temple of the death god is the best place for you to learn to channel your magic. Maybe it will inspire you. In order for you to be able to slaughter a legion of soldiers, you’ll need to do it without touching all of them. You will need to release the power from your body and unleash your magic over the legions of Luminari like a tidal wave of death, understood?”

I understood I would be fully out of my mind after I used that much magic. “And you think you know how to help me develop this power without letting it consume me?”

“I think I know where to start. It begins with no longer being afraid that your power makes you a monster. In the old days, they’d think you were a goddess. A queen for their death god.” His deep voice echoed off the stone walls. “To them, death wasn’t a curse. It was a transition, the freeing moment when terror goes quiet. The unearthly, sweet release of a tormented mind into the balm of sleep. And without death, the meaning of life can be elusive. Death grants us a purpose, a soul, and an end to it all that forces us to make the most of the moment, to do the things we’d otherwise put off eternally.”

I breathed in, the scent of decay mingling with the smell of bones. Ancient carvings marked the walls, carvings of skulls and hourglasses—and coiled serpents, with emerald eyes.

“The ‘sweet release of a tormented mind’?” I repeated his words. “Have you ever wanted to die?”

“I have my moments. In any case, it’s not about me. I’m just trying to help you accept your powers. You think of your power as a curse, and sometimes it is, but it can be a mercy and a way to save people.”

The tunnel opened to a great cavern with a jagged, rough oculus high above. Silver-tinged moonlight streamed in, washing an ancient altar with ethereal light. A large serpent carving loomed above the altar.

The moonlight also streamed into a large pit in the center of the temple, one that reminded me of the chasm in the temples to the Archon.

Torchlight danced over statues in alcoves carved to look like priestesses, each of them wearing floral crowns, with skulls for faces, snakes coiled tightly around their bodies. In here, the cool, humid air tasted of minerals and salt. For some reason, the fragrant scent of jasmine also floated in the air.

“It looks like a primitive temple to the Archon,” I said.

“I think that’s where the Order got their ideas. I never pegged the Tyrenians as being very creative.”

Words were carved into the walls in a language I couldn't read, and soaring columns stretched high up to the oculus. “What do the walls say?” I asked.

“ Remember death. ”

I cocked my head. “Who could forget?”

“All mortals forget. It’s the only way they can get through one day after the next, pretending their lives will never end. They know logically they will die. They think they accept it. But if they really felt the weight of it, they’d never stop screaming. But these temples and carvings weren’t supposed to terrify people. They were put here to remind people to seize the day, to not waste their lives on petty squabbles and grievances. The memento mori were an exhortation to make the most of your life while you had the chance. Mortals’ time on earth is fleeting, and it should not be wasted.”

I took a deep breath, thinking of Percival. He’d willingly left a life of nobility and luxury and thrown himself into the witch trials, just to find the vampire resistance. He’d been that desperate to give his life meaning while he still had the chance.

I pivoted, turning back to Sion. “Who am I supposed to practice my power on?”

He leaned back against one of the columns and folded his arms. His eyes danced. “Me.”

“Might I remind you that you’re already dead?”

He arched an eyebrow. “You don’t need any practice with killing. That clearly comes naturally to you. You need practice with not killing so you can control your power.”

“And how do I do that?”

“When your skin brushes against mine, I can feel the charged power of your magic flowing into me. It’s frankly a glorious sensation. But you need to learn how to modulate that power, how to be in control of it, so that you are in command of your magic and not the other way around. When your magic streams from your fingertips into someone else, you could slow the flow of that magic. The first step toward mastering your magic is being able to modulate it. And to do that, you need to let the power flow back inside you. You stop yourself from doing that and close yourself off because your power scares you.”

“Do you think I’ll be able to touch someone one day without killing them? Unless I want to, that is.”

“I’m sure of it.” He lifted his hand, and shadows spilled like inky tendrils from his fingertips, then froze and snaked back into his body. His eyelids fluttered. “It's simply a matter of not resisting the power you’re blessed with. And if you loosen the grip on your magic, you will have better control. It’s like when a woman is tied up with rope, waiting to be fucked, and as you tease her into a sexual frenzy, she struggles, and the ropes only grow tighter. Do you know what I mean?”

I stared at him. “Is this supposed to be a relatable anecdote?”

“Right, I did forget how much you hate enjoying things. Anyway, you get the point. Stop resisting and learn to let your power back in.”

I cocked my head, frowning. “Do you tie women up because they’d be otherwise unwilling?”

“Absolutely fucking not, and we’re getting off track here.” He uncrossed his arms and took a step closer. As he towered over me, his eyes gleamed down at me. “Do you know that feeling of ravening hunger that comes after you use your magic, when you crave more and more and more? You’ve had a taste of death, and now your desires cannot be sated, and you can feel yourself turning into something darker, angrier, into death itself?”

My fingers twitched as he spoke, and I could almost feel the hunger rising. “Yes, I very much know that feeling.”

“It’s because you’re fighting your own magic. If you leave yourself open to its return, you won’t crave its loss. You won’t be missing a part of yourself.”

He held out his hand, and I reluctantly put mine in his. Immediately, the cold, deathly charge of my magic ignited in me, vibrating in my chest, down my shoulder, along my arm, through my hand, and into Sion. By Sion’s sharp intake of breath, I knew he was feeling it, too.

His gaze burned as he stared down at me. “I don’t know if the god of death was ever real,” he whispered. “But you’re the closest thing I’ve ever seen to him. You need to understand your own power.”

As I sent my magic into him, a ravenous void opened in my chest, the dark compulsion to spread my power like a blight onto the world of the living. I wanted to breathe plagues across the city. I wanted to stain throats with the bruise of decay, to wither the plants around me…

“Elowen,” he whispered, “you need to let it back in.”

My fingers tightened, stomach clenching. “I—I don't know how.”

He pulled his hand away, and I instantly felt the sharp loss of that charge between us. Gnawing emptiness opened between my ribs.

I turned, taking in the symbols of death around us, and the serpent carvings seemed to writhe on the rock walls. Revulsion rose in my gut, and the eye sockets in the skulls seemed to gape at me accusingly.

My legs shook. “Enough for now, Sion. We can come back to this again tomorrow.”