Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 125422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Man, I need to work on my conversational skills, because they are lacking big time right now.
“You saved mine,” he replies simply. “It’s mutual.”
But…do you really have a life to save? You’re not mortal, I think.
What are you?
My gaze drifts to the sides of the path, to the twisted trunks and the moss that hangs in curtains from branches. Something about the silence of this forest puts me on edge, but at least we’re moving, pressing forward.
“Your powers… Do you know where they come from?” I ask, deciding it’s a nicer question than what are you? I mean, I know he’s “the universe,” but even as a Goddess, I just can’t wrap my head around what that means.
He’s silent for a few steps, considering. “My powers are a tapestry woven from many threads,” he says. “Some come from the primordial essence of the Underworld, some from deals made long ago, with forces beyond Gods and mortals. Some come direct from the Creator themself. You’ve noticed I see things others can’t.”
“You do more than see,” I say. “I think you can manipulate reality, just enough to tilt the odds. That’s unusual. Most Gods have direct dominion over something natural—seasons, elements, life, death—but you? You’re different.”
Really different.
A soft laugh escapes him, a sound like distant bells. “I’m not a God,” he says. “And obviously, I’m no mortal. Think of me as a…traveling scholar of arcane arts. When I say I know things, it’s because I’ve studied countless scrolls, spoken to ancient spirits that existed before even the Old Gods, wandered realms where time folds on itself. The galaxy you see is…a byproduct, a reflection of how I perceive the world. Sometimes, I reflect how you perceive the world.”
I stare at him for a moment before laughing, feeling a slight flush on my cheeks. “Now my mind is really blown.”
“There’s so much more out there that you don’t understand, Lovia,” he says. “And it’s not an insult to your intelligence. It’s that even Gods have limits. Even Gods can’t comprehend how the universe really works. They aren’t meant to.”
“Well, I’m definitely not a philosopher,” I admit, growing quieter. “Until recently, I don’t think I had much interest in anything, really. Definitely nothing in Tuonela. Did you know I’ve been sneaking out to the Upper World for years now? I even talked to Hanna about maybe leaving my duty here behind and going away for a while.”
He’s silent for a moment before he nods. “I did know that.”
“Oh. No secrets, then.”
“You can have your secrets, Lovia,” he says. “I don’t have to know everything. I can choose not to. But somewhere along the way, you’ve caught my attention.”
My cheeks grow warmer. “Is that so? You mean to tell me, as you’ve sat outside the City of Death and dealt cards for each incoming mortal, you’ve managed to find the time to think about little old me?”
I’m half-teasing him, but even so, my heart is starting to pound at the thought. Which, really, is ridiculous. With everything happening around us, the absolute last thing I need is to be flirting with an ancient, mysterious deity like the Magician, the universe itself, whatever that means.
And yet…
Here I am, fumbling through it.
“I haven’t sought you out,” he says, to which my chest deflates. “Rather, your life has infiltrated my vision from time to time. You more than anyone else.”
I swallow hard, daring to ask. “And what do you think that means?”
“I think,” he begins, pausing as a comet shoots across his face, lighting up the darkness in front of us, “it means that the two of us have some purpose here. Together.”
That idea makes my heart flutter, but it might just be from the anxiety of knowing he knows more than he’s letting on.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here. I’m not good at relying on others,” I admit softly. “Maybe you’re here to give me strength.”
He turns his head toward me. I can’t see his eyes, but I feel them, a gentle pressure. “Maybe it’s more than that, Loviatar.”
My name on his lips sends a shiver through me. Gods, what is this feeling? It’s a straight shot of warmth when all around is damp and gloom.
“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” I admit quietly, feeling like I’m breaking open my ribs, my heart exposed. “This war, this upheaval… I always thought I knew who I was. I’m the daughter of Death. I carry out my duties. I sometimes cross into the Upper World and play with mortals. I never expected to care about anyone from here. It’s easier to keep it distant. But now, I think about losing you or my father or even Hanna, and it terrifies me. I’m not used to fear either.” I snort softly at my own admission. “Fear, caring, worry—I’m ticking all the boxes of mortal vulnerability.”