The God of Wisdom’s laugh stopped abruptly, but the lack of sounds was just as disorienting. But the sound of his name being called seemed to put the world to rights again.
Footsteps pounded across the wooden bridge, and he turned to see his friends racing toward him. The dragon and alligators were gone. Safa had pushed to her hands and knees, her face pale and hair hanging down in front of her eyes, but there was still a look of pure hatred filling her features.
“Good. An audience. I do love sharing my knowledge with others,” Lore whispered.
Caelan glanced over his shoulder, holding out one hand to his companions. “Stop. Just…just stay there.”
“But Safa?” Eno demanded.
“No. Don’t. Just stay, please,” he replied, fighting desperately to keep the tremble out of his voice.
“The godstone…” Rayne choked out.
Caelan could only nod. The fact that Rayne and the other could see its broken pieces meant that it was all real. This wasn’t an illusion.
He needed them to stay where they were. There had been a niggling feeling in the back of his mind for months now, since first meeting Tula, that he was walking into a trap. Now, standing with Lore, Safa, and the broken godstone, he could feel the trap surrounding him. It hadn’t snapped shut yet, but even the smallest breath could trigger it. He didn’t know whether he could get his friends out still, but he could try.
Lowering his hand to his side, Caelan sucked in a steadying breath. It would be okay. They needed to know what happened, to know why they were all there in the first place.
He lifted his gaze to find Lore watching him so very closely. There was something menacing in that stare. He tried to remind himself that none of the gods were warm and fuzzy, but this felt different.
“Will you tell us what happened?”
Lore blinked and some of the coldness thawed from his features. His narrow shoulders relaxed an inch, and his smile even felt a little less threatening. Now that Caelan didn’t feel like he needed to defend himself, he took in the god’s attire. He would have expected something…well, something like what Rayne wore. Neat and proper, as if the man spent his entire existence inside of a library.
But the God of Wisdom’s clothes were worn and a bit dirty. His pants and shirt were made of a durable material in shades of brown and green, but there were patches on the knees and another on one elbow. A leather satchel was hanging across his chest and rested against his right hip. While on his left hip was a long knife with a razor-sharp edge.
“Thousands of years ago, the gods walked freely on Thia. At that time, there was no Ilon, Erya, Caspagir, or any of the kingdoms that you know now. The world was filled with nomadic tribes that followed the passing seasons and the migrating herds.” Lore paused and his head tilted to the side as he narrowed his gaze on Caelan. “There were a few exceptions. A large tribe had gathered to the north and was settling on a bay that would one day become Stormbreak Point.” His eyes lifted past Caelan’s shoulder. “The dragons stayed up in the mountains, but they were already forming their clans.”
Tick. Tock.
Caelan flinched. He glanced toward Safa, but quickly drew his gaze back to Lore. He needed to hear this. Needed to know why his life had been thrown upside down. Why his mother had been killed.
“Few among the humans even realized they encountered gods on a regular basis. We were generally good at blending in,” Lore said with a smirk. “Some of us watched them, trying to learn more about their ways. Others ignored them completely, content to mingle among our own kind. And then there were some that felt the need to play with the humans.” The last sentence was barely more than a growl.
“Tula,” Caelan muttered before he could catch himself.
Lore huffed a laugh. “Not at first. No, she preferred to be worshiped by all. She wanted shrines and altars among all the tribes. She needed to be loved by all.”
“Did that include the gods? Did she need to be loved by all the gods as well?”
The god’s nose wrinkled and his mouth twisted. “Not quite. She would have preferred to have all the other gods adoring her and obeying her every whim, but she was particularly interested in one god, who had no interest in her.”
“Zyros?”
Another harsh bark of laughter left Lore and Caelan quickly covered his ears rather than have the sound slice through his brain. Lore placed a hand on his head and stared up at the ceiling for a moment, seeming lost in a thought while choking out a few more broken laughs.
“Zyros? No. She wasn’t a god,” Lore murmured. He sniffed and shook his head as if knocking his thoughts back in order. “Zyros was human. A huntress. Fierce, brilliant, and loyal. She was the best of her tribe. One day, she would have been the chief of her tribe and led them to greatness.”
Something had changed in Lore’s tone. With each mention of the Goddess of the Hunt’s name, his tone softened. A cold fist closed around Caelan’s heart, and he suddenly didn’t want to know the rest of this story.
“But Zyros had the unlucky fate to meet one of the gods while hunting, and against her will, she fell in love.” Lore looked at Caelan, his smile a twist of bitter sadness. “She fought it for as long as she could, but ultimately lost. And everyone knows nothing good comes from loving a god. It’s even worse when that god loves you in return.”
Caelan swallowed hard. Moreso if that particular god had already caught the eye of Tula.
“Zyros became obsessed with her god. Despite his reassurances that she was everything that he wanted, she worried that she needed to be worthy of his love. She was terrified of growing old and weak.” Lore clenched his teeth, his smooth brow furrowing. “So, she made offering after offering to the Goddess of Life, begging Tula to help her be worthy of the god’s love.”
“Fuck,” Caelan mumbled and scrubbed a hand over his face. This was definitely where things went to shit.