Wed to the Wild God (Aspect and Anchor)

As we journey on, the cities and small towns and farms grow sparse and we head into the mountains. Here, it's unblemished and just as remote as the place we first arrived, and I can sense Kassam's happiness. I think he might be crushed if his entire world looked like mine when he'd awoken. He was able to handle the strangeness of modern Earth well, able to cope with finding the wild in downtown Chicago. I'm not sure he'd be able to cope with it on his doorstep.

Even if this world isn't quite as wild as it used to be, there's still plenty of room for a wild god.

This end of the world might be a little too extreme for me, though. I eye Kassam. "Is it supposed to look like this?"

He inhales deeply, that pleased look remaining on his face. "Indeed. Can you not smell it?"

"I don't smell anything."

"Exactly!" Kassam's eyes glitter with delight. "No farms, no mortals, no crops, no cities. It is untouched by humanity."

It's also untouched by a single blade of grass, but I don't point that out. Kassam looks thrilled, and so I try to appreciate our surroundings through his eyes. The mountains are nothing but bare rock on this side, and the slopes are pebbled with loose shale and other equally gray rocks. There's a tiny path winding its way through the mountains toward the water's edge, but the water itself looks hellishly oppressive. It doesn't even look like real water, despite the fact that the lake covers the entire horizon. It's so flat and gray it looks like just one gigantic puddle. Most bodies of water seem to have some sort of life to them—they ripple when the wind touches the surface. They shimmer when the sunlight hits the water. This is just…a void. A big, gray, unpleasant-looking void in the middle of the craggy, equally gray mountains.

Away in the distance, at the far side of the lake, a thin, lone needle points at the sky. Our destination. "That's the Tower of the Spidae?" I ask Kassam, even though we've talked about it a hundred times. It's the only building on this side of the Godspine Mountains. Nothing and no one lives here except the Spidae, who dwell upon the edge of the world. Even our steady griffin who's been with us since the beginning of this journey is unsettled. He prances in place, looking as if he'd like nothing more than to fly away and leave us behind.

Only Kassam looks thrilled to be here. But then again, it never takes much to thrill Kassam—a firefly, a blow job, a full moon, it all works for him. I love that about him. I watch his smile as he breathes in the crisp mountain air, and my heart aches.

I don't have much longer in this world, I think. I haven't seen Death again, but with every day that passes, I feel a little more floaty and disconnected from my body. At some point, I know I won't be able to stay in it any longer. It's just a hunch I have. Whatever life-force tethers me to my flesh has been severed, and I remember what Death said about my thread becoming frayed. I suspect that thread has come completely undone, and it's sheer will alone that keeps me at Kassam's side instead of heading to the afterlife.

I'm trying not to think about it. I certainly haven't told Kassam about how I feel. He'll blame himself, and I don't want him to lose that happy sense of purpose that has been enveloping him since we left Seth's side. He's seeing his world again, he's seeing people rejoice at his return, and I want him to feel nothing but relief and happiness.

Either the Spidae will be able to fix this, or they won't. I absently touch the stitches on my chest, just below the collar of my tunic. Whichever way it heads, I want Kassam to know that I love him and that I did this for him. I don't want him to feel guilt. I just want him to think of our time together with happiness. So I smile affectionately at him and ignore the floaty, drifting feeling in my head. "You think they're expecting you?"

Kassam laughs with delight. "If they are not, we have bigger problems."

"I guess that was a silly question, huh?" Fate should absolutely know what's going on. I think of Lachesis, her world-weary attitude and constant cigarette smoking, and try to picture that in a spider god. Nope. Try as I might, I mentally can't make the pieces fit together.

Kassam looks over at me. "Are you ready to do this, little light?"

Am I? Part of me thinks I won't ever be ready. I move over to take his hand in mine. His fingers are warm compared to my cold ones, and his palm callused and raspy, but pleasant. I lean against his arm and gaze out at the unsettling gray water and that sliver of a tower far on the horizon. Even though this landscape is hideous, I wouldn't mind staying here forever, with Kassam right next to me.