21. Sibling Re

The Present

Theon and Naia dropped into a large, dimly lit room.

"What do you think?" Theon asked. "Does this look like Finnian's home?"

Beneath her feet was a stone floor. Portraits hung on the brick walls of gloomy floral arrangements and decomposing animals with mushrooms and nature sprouting from their bellies. Surrounding them above were several stories, each level high rise, built like a compound.An entire floor dedicated to bookshelves, from what little she could see in the distance. Grimoires and novels Finnian had collected over the centuries.

"Finnian!" she shouted out. "Come face me!"

She wanted to see the state of his kitchen, if he ever bothered to eat, or if he had a fireplace. All the things she had dreamed about while stuck in her bedchamber, a place that was a never-ending abyss of solitude and desolation.

Seconds passed, and Finnian did not show himself.

Theon's elbow nudged her side. "Why don't you insist on talking first? You are siblings. He might?—"

Luckily, Naia knew how to draw her brother out.She pulled her fist back, prepared to bring the structure they stood within to shambles.

"Or not," Theon mumbled when she brought her arm down to punch a crater into the glossy stone.

A hand caught her by the crook of her elbow. "Don't you dare."

She brought her head up to meet her brother's stern glare.

His long black hair was pulled back behind his shoulders. The sight of his profile, with his angular face shape and sunken cheekbones, reminded her of their father. Pain ruptured behind her ribcage, and she glared at the flawless patch of skin above his right jawline. He had hidden his scar with glamor.

Ghouls surrounded them in all forms—men, women, children, animals. All brought back from the dead. Finnian never knew when to leave things alone.

Theon's arms came up to attack, but all it took was a strategic cut of Finnian's eyes onto the middle god for him to be forced aside like a feather caught in a windstorm.

Theon landed across the room and the ghouls moved like a pack of lions, throwing themselves onto him.

Naia screamed, "No!"

Finnian wrenched her arm, drawing her closer to him. "You don't want to play with me, Sister."

Naia glowered up at him. "Be careful, Brother. Mother's arrogance is showing in you."

Before he could get out another word, Naia snatched her arm, freeing it from his grasp, and threw her leg out to land a kick on his ribcage. There was a satisfying crunch against the sole of her feet as his bones fractured.

With a grunt, Finnian disappeared into a haze of smoke, the particles glittering like tiny crimson stars.

The satisfaction of one hit was exactly what Naia needed. Never mind his cold acknowledgement and failure to apologize. She'd lied before to Theon. She had absolutely no desire to engage in any type of conversation with Finnian. All she wanted was an opportunity to vent her anger; to let Finnian know firsthand the immense damage he had inflicted upon her. Perhaps, then, the weight of his actions would finally settle in his conscience.

A frigid air cut across her cheeks. She whipped her head towards it to find Theon, arms extended and palms together. The translucent spears of ice shimmered and sparkled under the warm amber lights as they struck the ghouls.

Theon was a middle god of winter.

Across the room, a blinding silver orb collected above Finnian's open palm and arranged into the form of an ethereal skull. With a frightening force of magic, it shot towards her.

The skull's mouth stretched open. Her pulse hammered in her throat. The intensity of the roar was so strong, a burst of wind rushed across Naia's face and through her hair.

With unwavering focus, she tracked the magic's path, the anticipation building as it neared closer and closer to her, before swiftly dodging it at the last possible moment.

Its intense energy surged past her, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

Inches below the ceiling, smoky globes of power rotated, casting an otherworldly glow. Finnian's open palm lifted in the air, and he clenched it into a fist. The globes spit out magical projectiles like rain.

Naia dove to dodge them, feeling their gust as they whizzed past her. One gouged into her bicep. Another into her left thigh. The wispy, ghostlike droplets moved through her.

Naia growled out in response to the pain.

She hated sorcery.

Gritting her teeth, she lifted herself up from her crouched position and charged Finnian.

He met her halfway.

She launched her fist forward, aimed at his face, but he swerved his head and his firm grip constricted around her neck. She drove her elbow up and connected with his cheekbone. The impact threw his head back.

He released her throat, and his nostrils flared, catching her fist in his palm before she could destroy his face with a punch. She raised her other arm up, and his other hand seized her by the wrist. Currents of his magic pulsed in the places he held onto her, a subtle warning of what he could do.

He was holding back.

They were at a draw.

Naia couldn't speak. Words didn't seem to be enough to express the torrent of heartbreak he'd inflicted.

She stared deeply into her brother's eyes, yearning to find even the slightest traces of love he had for her.

His brow furrowed slightly, and a faint frown appeared on his face.

A fleeting image of the young boy she had known, concealed beneath the layers he had enveloped himself in—tender and fervent, a person who loved with all his heart and experienced agony immeasurably. It was why he turned to necromancy. Finnian could never bear the ache of losing those he held dear. She had no doubt if Father had died, he would be a ghoul, too.

"After all these years"—Finnian's eyes followed the tear trailing down the crevice of her nose to her lips—"you still cry so easily."

She spit on him.

His jaws clenched, and a hardness devoured the softness in his eyes.

The glob of her spit sank over his brow and into his eyelashes. He averted his gaze, as if he could not stomach to witness the hurt flooding her face.

She took advantage of the moment and yanked her hand free to snatch the magical device from his right ear.

Finnian's reflexes were swift, as he chased Naia's hand with his own.

She took a step back, fisting his most prized possession. Still holding onto her by the wrist, he jerked her forward. Hisgrip tightened around her bone, causing a jolt of pain to shoot down her arm.

Naia acted on instinct and swiftly delivered a knee to his groin.

His grip around her gave way, and he doubled over, holding himself up on his knees."Naia!"

She took off running, not entirely sure where she was going as she hopped over the bodies of ghouls frozen like humanoid popsicles on the floor. Some were sliced into pieces, their bodies gradually regenerating.

Battered brains squished between her toes, reminding her of how she'd kicked off her heels in Alke Hall after Finnian had summoned the triplets.

She lost her balance and her legs twisted out from underneath her.The heels of her palms and knees hit the stone floor.

Wincing, she raised her chin. In her periphery, she spotted Theon's arms coming up over his head. The ghouls crawling out of the shadows met a barrage of icy disks, decapitating them with a bone-chilling crack.

Finnian flicked his fingers, binding Theon's hands together with quick, precise stitches.

"Fuck off, winter god." Finnian sauntered towards Naia without haste, as if he knew she had nowhere to run to.

Theon rushed for Naia, but a powerful sweep of her brother's arm caused him to lose his balance and collide with the unyielding stone wall.

If the god needed a reason to dislike her, this would be it. They'd met an hour ago, and this was the mess she'd forced upon him.

Naia squeezed her little brother's hearing aid in her palm, tempted to shatter the device. There was no telling how many centuries it took him to find the rare crystal embedded in it.

She couldn't, though. It was her dearest brother's, a person she loved more than anyone in the world.

Her anger dissipated.

Revenge had not brought her here. Finnian was the only source of home she knew, and it was a hard pill to swallow that he no longer wished to be that for her.

Finnian marched towards her in enraged, swift strides, and she braced herself for whatever form of sorcery he would throw at her next.

His power accumulated, crackling the particles in the air. Naia finally looked up to see what it was. The sight was mesmerizing—a murky, swirling blue substance splitting into separate shards, all hanging suspended. The ends pointed straight at her, daggers awaiting Finnian's signal.

She would accept whatever consequences came with her actions.

Ronin was right. If she knew what was best, she would have remained on that couch wrapped in his jacket and awaited his return.

Sitting on his balcony with a plate of cake in her lap and a beer beside her, with him an arm's length away, the two of them laughing at some ridiculous conversation was the only place she wanted to be right now.

A steady click of Finnian's eyes was all it took to send the daggers flying. A true testimony to his title as a High God.

I am not afraid of pain.

Her body stiffened.

They sailed closer and closer?—

Naia slammed her eyes shut and raised her arms to protect herself.

The fragments collided with a solid surface, like bullets striking metal.Each piece shattered.

"You gods have a terrible way of handling disputes. You're family, for fuck's sake."

Ronin.

Naia's eyes shot open. Relief swept over her, slowing down the frantic beating of her heart.

As she gaped up at his backside before her, she couldn't deny the colorful rays of warmth streaking through her. She was irrevocably happy to see him. Ronin had crossed over into Finnian's territory for her, and she wanted to scold him and hug him for it all at once.

She rotated her head in search of Theon.

A pack of ghouls constrained the god onto the ground, their hands full of chunks of his intestines as they shoved the pink, worm-looking organ into their mouths.

Naia's stomach heaved at the gory sight.

While Theon was a god capable of healing, it did nothing to dull the suffering he endured.

Ronin turned his head and grimaced at the scene. He lowered his hand to his side, allowing the stream of blood from the cut of his palm to flow freely onto the floor. Same as the one he'd made on his palm back in Alke Hall, this cut was inches deep and oozing.

Naia's breath went short. Tingles pricked her cheeks, down her neck at the sight of the red liquid slithering across the stone, like a web of arteries.

Ronin's fingers twitched, and the blood heeded his command. It lifted itself, creating a dense thicket of jagged briars that skewered the ghouls feeding on Theon.

Naia looked straight up at the back of Ronin's head, and fixated her attention on each strand of his dark hair, disheveled and half tied back, the bottom layer hugging his nape. Sweat beaded in her palms, down her spine to the stench of copper invading the air. She swallowed. Squeezed her fingers into her palms. Breathed.

How did he find me if it wasn't Theon's doing?

As if her body knew before she did, her hand instantly found the bracelet he'd placed on her wrist.

She looked down at it, noticing the crystal in its center shining brightly.

"Twice in one day you enter my territory," Finnian responded coolly. "I'll have to be more creative on what I send to wreak havoc across Tempest this time around."

Naia was astounded by her brother's talent in adjusting the volume of his voice, even though he couldn't hear out of one ear.

"Send whatever the hell you want," Ronin said, his voice hard. "They won't cross over into my side."

Finnian slightly angled his head to open the range of hearing for his left ear. The movement was barely there, but Naia did not miss it.

"Coming into my hall was one thing, but into my home? We've rivaled for years. Since you were a child. Yet, you've not once stepped foot into my lane. You are many things, Mr. Kahale, but disrespectful is not one of them. No matter how much you loathe me."

"You're right," Ronin said. "But I know you just as well, and something told me you'd lead your own flesh and blood into a lion's den."

A smirk crossed Finnian's face, like scissors cutting across a sheet of paper."I know the look of affection when I see it. You have it for my sister. I simply took advantage of the opportunity. Our siblings are vile, and I had a hunch you would expose your power at the expense of Naia's well-being. My wishful thinking was that the triplets would die."

Naia climbed up and stood beside Ronin, sensing the fleeting touch of his gaze on her cheek.

"You are tenacious, I'll give you that." Finnian sauntered closer to them. "Moving into my city at eighteen, killing those I sent to steal vials of your blood, and creating your precious following to stand against me." He came to a stop a few feet in front of Ronin, head cocking. "Never mind that, but then you have the audacity to sell your crates of beer, spiked with your blood, in my black market and with a Charm of Resistance refusing me or my organizations from using it for my gain."

Naia knew extremely little about spells, but a Charm of Resistance was a lock set by the mage who cast it. If someone attempted to open it with intentions Ronin did not approve of, it would be impossible.

A bitter sound huffed from Naia's mouth. Of course, the brewery was a ruse. Ronin was using it to create poisonous beer for deities.

And why was Finnian after Ronin's blood?

She wanted to laugh at how na?ve she'd been.

Perhaps foolishness was her greatest talent, after all.

A goddess of foolishness.

Such a deity did not exist, but perhaps she was the first.

"I cannot kill a deity," Ronin said. "Your siblings still live, just temporarily paralyzed. Does that answer the great question you've spent your entire life trying to figure out?"

"Wouldn't it have been easier for you to come out and confess this to me early on?"

"Becausewe do so much fucking chatting when we're face-to-face," Ronin drawled.

"Are you serious?" Naia said, her voice thick from the lump swelling in her throat. "You threw me to Malik when you know how twisted he is. Astrid and Vex and the snakes they are! All to force Ronin into a situation where you could test to see if he'd use his blood to kill them?"

"That wasn't the only reason." Finnian's tone softened towards her, and she resented him for it. For regarding her in that familiar way only he, as her brother, ever could; for speaking in a damn riddle. What did it mean?

"You wanted a way to kill a god out of petty vendettas!" She scowled. "The triplets wronged you centuries ago, and yet, you are still out to make them suffer!"

"They slaughtered Arran!" he snarled at her, as if she'd forgotten.

"You are powerful enough to take on those who have wronged you without tormenting a mortal for your twisted revenge scheme!"

"I may be capable of raising the dead, Sister, but I cannot kill what is immortal."

"All you care about is yourself! You are just as cruel as Mother."

A heavy weight settled between them as she watched the sting of her words travel across his expression.

A humorless sound huffed out of him. "You forget, I am the one who stood by your side and witnessed her cruelty firsthand—forcing Solaris onto you, making you scrub the kitchens. The first time you escaped, everyone heard the news as it made its way through the lands how Mira, High Goddess of the Sea, beat her daughter with a Thousand Strikes?—"

"Stop," Naia demanded.

"After Marina slaughtered the mortal you were so fond of."

"Stop talking," she repeated, though it came out barely above a whisper.

She'd provoked him, and now she regretted it. Ronin was right beside her, listening.

"And then how Marina dragged you back down and Mother strapped you in Cassian's chains." Finnian's lip curled in disgust, enunciating the animosity he felt towards the High God. "A curse she proposed to bind you to Kaimana, at the expense of collecting and feeding souls to Cassian as a repayment for all the souls I harbored from him with my necromancy."

Over time, she had always wondered what had convinced Cassian to curse her, and now she finally knew.

"Ever curious what happened to your precious Gianna or all our other childhood servants in the palace? Or what Malik did in his spare time to achieve the title of High God of Slaughter?"

"Finnian, I don't want to hear this." Naia lost control of her breath. The weight of her traumatic past threatened to crash into her once again, and she brought her hands up to her ears, desperate to block out the haunting memories.

"Slaughtering souls to feed Cassian's hunger, at the expense of your curse to keep you chained to her like a dog?—"

"I said stop!" Naia screamed, her eyes tightly closed, and her knuckles trembling against her cheeks.

"Just like Father?—"

"Finnian." This time, it was Ronin who spoke. "Enough."

Naia's emotions were in her throat, like she'd swallowed a bomb and it had detonated in her chest, exposing far too much of what was inside of her.

The horrendous memories she fought hard to keep contained, buried away, resurfaced. Behind her closed eyes, Kaleo's face appeared, vivid and fleeting, evoking a profound ache to twist in her heart.

No.

She lowered her arms with a shaky breath and straightened to lock eyes with her brother. Every twinkling, boyish look he'd ever given her, every growth spurt, every lecture, every delicate, affectionate moment they had shared—what was the purpose of them, of her love, when this was what they had become?

She tossed the hearing aid back to Finnian and turned away from him. "I never wish to see you again."

This, she understood, was the most heartbreaking place to wander to in life. In front of another who she loved more than herself, but that did not love her the same.