Endless Knight (Darkling Mage 9)

Hecate smiled, her face blurring in and out of existence as her features shifted. “You are certainly not ‘some people,’ fleshling. That is indeed correct. We must commend you for accomplishing so much in so little time. Three swords already: Vanitas, Durandal, and Duskfang. Whenever Belphegor deems it time to present the hell-blade to you, of course.”

“Yeah,” I said, dragging my feet over to the couch and slumping back into it again. Hecate stayed by the sink, trailing her finger through the dishes. She really had a thing about water. “But now we’ve attracted Zeus’s attention, and it looks like Agatha has done something horrible. What, exactly, I couldn’t tell you, but I’m sure you know about the ritual murders in France.”

Hecate nodded. “This is only more reason for you to expedite the Apotheosis, fleshling. The sooner you can gather the five blades and execute the ritual, the sooner you will have the power to destroy Agatha Black, to stop the gods themselves from harming you.”

I shivered again at the promise of so much power, but I definitely noted her use of the word execute. “That’s one thing I’m not sure of, Hecate. Everything we’ve discussed about the ritual points to me – well, it sounds like I’m meant to die as a result. Is that what it takes to ascend?”

She clasped her hands together, nodding again. “Yes. Yes, Dustin, that is certainly one way to put it. The Apotheosis does involve your death, in a sense. But surely you understand. It is the same as burning upon a ceremonial bonfire, the same as a sword being smithed out of crude metal.” She chuckled. “If you like, it might even be compared to baking a cake. The fire cleanses as it destroys, but it also recreates, offers a pyre for your resurrection. You will be shattered, in order that you may be reforged from the ruined pieces once more. Better. Stronger.”

My fingers threaded through each other as I wrung my hands. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”

“It is simply the way of things. You will be annihilated.”

I gulped.

“Then what remains of you must spend time in your new domicile in order to survive, and to stabilize its energies.”

I gaped at her. “My own domicile? Then this isn’t just some tiny thing. You’re talking about actual, deific ascension.”

“Have we not fully explained this to you over and again, fleshling? Godhood. That is the point of the Apotheosis.”

“But all the other rites of power demand something. Carver and his lichdom, Agatha and the Coven of One, they all had to kill.” My fingers dug deep into the couch, my lips curling back.

Hecate shook her head. “And kill you shall, fleshling. Agatha Black must die. Is that not your deepest desire? The Apotheosis will give you the might to do so. But you must make a sacrifice.”

The question hung thick in the air. “And what is that sacrifice?”

“For you to linger within your domicile, and only in your domicile, for as long as it takes for your new body to reform. For as long as it takes to truly achieve godhood.”

I bit my lip, dreading the answer. “How long must I linger?”

“For a new god? One fueled by the belief and willpower of so many humans? Several months. Perhaps some years. But those days are gone. There are no more temples, no more oracles and zealots. Mankind no longer believes in gods, least of all you, sweet fleshling. Your time? It will be decades.”

My heart fell to the floor, my limbs going loose. I stared at the palms of my hands, seeing them as empty as how I felt on the inside. “Decades?” I mumbled.

I hadn’t noticed her moving towards me, but suddenly, Hecate’s hand was on my shoulder, her fingers resting there lightly. “That is the sacrifice. You will shed what little is left of you that is human. And you will stand guard at the door, always waiting to seal it when the Old Ones come knocking. And I assure you: they will come.”

My fingers clenched and unclenched, and I looked up into Hecate’s face, more frustrated and terrified than ever of the wavering mirage of her face. I needed something human to connect to, someone to tell me I was still doing the right thing.

“I can’t do that, Hecate. Not to the people I love.”

A different voice cut through the room, cold and icy. “Actually, it sounds like you’re perfectly capable of doing just that.”

My head whipped around to find Herald standing at the doorway. His face was even, unemotional, which only made things so much worse. I knew he was angry, absolutely furious. That he refused to show it told me volumes of its intensity.

“Herald,” I croaked. “How much did you hear?”

“Everything,” he said coolly. “Or at least enough to tell me that you’re doing the dumbest thing you’ve ever done in your life.”

I flinched, turning just long enough to check on Hecate, already aware that she was gone. “You know why I have to do this,” I told him. “You know the consequences if I don’t.”

He said nothing. He could have shouted at me, punched me, thrown me out of his apartment, but the silence was so much worse.

“Look,” I said. “You know how much I care for you. But I have to weigh everything against what will happen to the rest of the world. If I have to go away for – ”

My voice trailed off, because even I wasn’t stupid enough to ask Herald to wait for me, to ask any of my loved ones to wait for me. By the time I reformed in my domicile, whatever the hell that meant, they would be long gone. Dead. Once, ages ago, Sterling told me that all his loved ones died out before him. The weight of his words finally came crashing back down on me in that moment.

“I wish you would have told me,” Herald said. “I wish we could have had a discussion about this. How many more things are you hiding from me?”