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Arachessen were not supposed to mourn the things we gave up in the name of our goddess—Acaeja, the Weaver of Fates, the Keeper of the Unknown, the Mother of Sorcery. We could not mourn the eyesight, the autonomy, the pieces of our flesh carved away in sacrifice. And no, we could not mourn the sex, either.
All that, all at once, severed. The dead did not have threads. Raeth’s color was purple.
His hair was long and reflected the moonlight, soaked in salty tendrils around his shoulders. And of course, there were the horns. Black as night, protruding from his upper forehead and curling back.
I knew I had a punishment waiting for me at the Keep, but I didn’t care. It was punishment enough. That moment. The moment I let him go.
It was not a sacrifice. It was an exchange: Close your eyes, child, and you will see an entire world.
It was worth it, though. They told me later I was the only recruit that didn’t make a sound.
His actions moved our world away from its course. That is the measure of an enemy of the Arachessen. Acaeja’s will. Balance. Not evil or righteousness.
Acaeja was the only exception—the only god who tolerated Nyaxia and the vampire society she had created. It was not up to us to judge our conqueror.
“We need fire, child,” the Sightmother said, simply. “You have it. But if you don’t want the task—” “I do want it.” I spoke too fast. Too eagerly.
All gifts that I gave her freely, and it was an honor to allow my reverence for Acaeja to mark my flesh so permanently.
And the horns, I could see in the threads, were not the only part of him that had been tampered with, even if he did his best to hide the other darknesses.
“I prefer to meet death standing up.”
A little funny, actually, that he wasn’t afraid of taking on the Pythora King, but the idea of tangling with the Arachessen scared him.
“Is it really a sacrifice if it’s taken instead of offered?”
“I don’t lie.” “Everyone lies.” “Not me.”
“You’re lucky,” he said, “that I have a soft spot for caged birds.”
No, it never stopped hurting, but pain grew inconsequential as it simply became another bodily constant.
“Those are facts. That’s not the same as seeing it.” “In what way?” “When you see the moon rise, some might say there’s something more to it than coordinates in the sky.”
Oh yes
“I don’t like forcing people to do things,” he said. “Bad way to earn loyalty. And I do require your loyalty, and your services. I can take them permanently, or you can offer them temporarily. I can get them by your fear or your choice. I’d rather the latter, but I’ll do either.”
but steady truth. He believed it.
My goddess Acaeja, Weaver of Fates, Keeper of the Unknown, I silently incanted. I give you this gift of life. Open your doors to me.
Show me something more, Weaver, I asked the goddess. You are not looking in the right direction, she whispered. I stopped short.
In the distance, Atrius’s companion was nothing but black blood in the snow, and Atrius was on his knees beside him, bowed and broken. Despite the distance, I still heard his voice so clearly, cracking with desperation: Wake up, my prince, he begged.
Backstory vision
Atrius did not raise his voice. But that was only because he was not the type of man who needed to. The quiet carried his threat, and his rage. Enough to shiver up your spine like the tip of a blade. “Never do that again,” he repeated. “Do you understand?”
Me too
Erekkus, I’d come to learn quickly, had a very big mouth. That would be useful to me, especially given that Atrius was about as transparent as a rock.
“Beautiful. Mysterious. Dangerous. And an obvious, clear-as-the-fucking-moon mistake.”
“We fight for what it is Right. What is Right goes beyond good or evil.”
“I’ll ask, but I’m telling you, he’s not going to see you. He’s got better things to do.” * * * Atrius saw me.
“about having another vision. But I confess I lied about the nature of it.” “I’m shocked,” Atrius said blandly. “I saw a vision about… myself.
NO CORRECTING THE ATTACK THEN?!
“You have no idea the things I’ve seen. The things I’ve done. I’m a killer too, Atrius. Don’t underestimate me.”
Atrius was tall, but not so tall I couldn’t position my blade against his throat, my other arm wrapped around his body. “I win,” I said.
Still, it wasn’t lost on me that, despite his complaining, Erekkus still remained close to me. I didn’t need saving, and he’d see that soon enough, but it was still touching. Apparently he’d gotten a little protective over his ward.
It was as if he didn’t anticipate anything at all—didn’t even try. He simply responded. To do that while sparring with me was one thing. It was another to do it here, in battle. It was incredible.
“They aren’t warriors,” I choked out. “They’re innocent. They’re civilians.”
Yeah blood moon dum.bass
Neither Atrius nor his men killed a single person.
“I’m sure vampire kings are very kind to their subjects.” His lips thinned. “Maybe kings are the problem,” he remarked.
My vision had specified the crescent moon. I had taken us during the full. And Aaves had just driven us into the deepest tunnels of Alka. The ones that really belonged to the sea.
My body flew across the hall, fighting against the tide, and suddenly my head was above the water and a body was pressed to mine with a firm arm wrapped around my waist— —And Atrius’s very, very unhappy face was a few inches away from mine.
“You’re the witch,” he said. “Don’t your kind have their ways?”
forced myself to steady just long enough to look at the gap in the rocks, at Atrius on his hands and knees looking back at me— Draw the thread. Step through.
There. I felt him. Not just my target—not just the stone, but him. Atrius. A presence so unusual I felt it from even this far. It was him I anchored myself to. I drew the thread tight, strong.
“Stop fighting,” he snapped. “You’re wounded. I’m stopping the bleeding.”
“The castle? Many.” “Too many?” I paused, realizing what he was asking: Too many for us?
But we didn’t wait. We fought our way through the castle. I would barely remember any of it later, because I was lost in the tumultuous seas I had so often been told to avoid—lost, and unashamed at how much I loved it.
The Arachessen taught me that my emotions should always be a calm sea. But sometimes, those storms snuck up on me. And once the waves swallowed me, it was hard to find the surface.
“But—” “That little thing will probably put him in better spirits,” Erekkus said breezily, turning away. “We can dream.”
I had trained in the method, as all Arachessen did, but it had never been a strength.
The all-magikal-cult
“Thank you,” he rasped, finally. And then he let himself fall.
“Told you,” Erekkus grumbled. “Just his type. Beautiful trouble.”
And then, in the secret silence, where no one could see me, I trailed my fingertips up my own arm. Just out of curiosity. Just to remember how it felt. A meaningless touch. Strange thing to crave.
