Page 43 of Brimstone

Silence reigned over the library for a time, all of us lost in our thoughts, doing our best to figure out how best to proceed. The quiet was disturbed by the door to the library bursting open and the arrival of Ren and Lorreth in a whirlwind of leather, soot, and war braids.

Fisher rose quickly. “You found them?”

Ren’s face was grave, but he nodded. “The vast majority of them were waiting for us at the rally point. We lost a thousand more warriors, though.”

“More feeders?”

Lorreth shook his head. “The rot. It infected them somehow. The same way it must have infected the feeders. It took them in an hour. Two at most. The other fighters had to put them down. Their friends. Family. It wasn’t good. There’s a trail of bodies from the war camp all the way into the foothills.”

“And where those bodies lay, the rot spreads and multiplies,” Ren said. “It claims any vegetation. Any creature, living or dead. It travels over snow and scorched ground without issue. We’ve yet to figure out a way to stop it.”

The color drained from Fisher’s face. His gaze met mine, clouded with worry, the thin strand of quicksilver banding his right eye flashing bright.We need to tell them, he said into my mind.Do I have your permission?

I gave him a small nod. I had described to him in great detail what had happened when I’d been pulled into the quicksilver back at Gillethrye. I hadn’t left anything out. But Fisher hadwanted to keep the full account to ourselves for a little while so as not to alarm the others unnecessarily. But now it seemed as though alarm was warranted. He took a deep breath and began. “Back in Gillethrye, Saeris wasn’t just pulled into the quicksilver. She was called by the gods.”

Five baffled faces turned toward me. Over the back of the sofa, Carrion’s head popped up out of nowhere, his auburn strands disheveled as if he’d just woken up. “What does that mean,called by the gods? Like, you found religion?”

“No. It means that I was summoned by them. Zareth was the one who yanked me through the—”

“Excuse me.Zareth?” Te Léna squeaked. “TheZareth. God of chaos Zareth?”

“God of chaosandchange,” I said wearily. “He was very adamant about the ‘and change’ part.”

“You met witha god?”

“Yes. Three of them, actually.” I shrugged. “Bal and Mithin were there, too. Kind of.”

Te Léna looked like she might pass out. She pressed her index finger and middle finger to her brow with reverence. “What did Zareth say?”

“He said he was severing us from the tapestry of the universe. That the gods wouldn’t be able to see us anymore.”

“Wait,” Maynir interjected. “So you and Fisher . . . you’renotGod-Bound anymore?”

Fisher shifted, absently rubbing the tattoos across the back of his hand that now matched my own. “We are. If anything, the connection between us is even stronger. The gods are just blind to us now. Zareth felt that it would protect us. Some of the other gods aren’t too optimistic about what’s happening. They’d rather birth a new universe than wait to see what happens with this one, so . . .”

“No. No, no, no.” Iseabail shook her head. “Impossible. The Yvelian gods aren’t real. They’re metaphors.”

Lorreth’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly. “But the Balquhidder gods are real, though, right? Those elemental spirits who whisper in your ears? The ones who tell you whether you should prevent or commit atrocities for‘the greater good’?” He heaped sarcasm onto those last three words.

“Our deities aren’t myths, Lorreth. They’ve always been here, and their will cannot be questioned. If we don’t obey them, the consequences—”

“Enough.”Fisher didn’t raise his voice, but the command echoed around the library. Frown lines etched deep grooves between his brows. “The gods are real. They’re bastards, but they’re real. I’ve met with them myself. We aren’t telling you this now to spark a debate about theology. I’m bringing this up because of what they told Saeris.”

Everyone looked expectantly at me, which was justgreat. Being stared at was my favorite. “Zareth showed me this tree,” I explained. “There were thousands of leaves on its branches. He said that each leaf represented a realm occupied by countless living beings. Some of the leaves withered and fell as we spoke. He said that those realms were infected by a rot spreading throughout the universe. Whole branches of the tree were blackened and dying. Zareth said that it meant the end. Of everything. Of all realms. That the other gods wanted to wipe the slate clean and start over again, rebuilding the universe from scratch. But he had refused.”

“And so,” Iseabail said, “this male who claimed to be a God said that you and Fisher were the only ones who could prevent the end of everything, then? Is that what you’re telling us?” The witch didn’t sound upset, per se. Her tone was measured, but there was a whirlwind of emotion in her blue eyes.

“No. He said that Fisher and I are an axis of some kind. A convergence in the threads of fate. He told me that none of the gods could see around us. He said that wehadto find a way to fix this, otherwise everything was lost. I’m not saying we’re special, Iseabail. I’m just saying that . . .” I fumbled for the right words. “A god rolled the dice on an unlikely outcome, just to see if it would pay off. That’s it. That’s what we are currently working with.”

No one looked happy to hear this.

I was met with tight, grim expressions as I glanced around the room. That is, until my gaze fell on Carrion. With his arms draped over the back of the couch and his chin resting on the cushion, he shot me a roguish wink. “You’ll come up with something, Fane. You always do. You’re very smart for a twenty-five-year-old.”

I choked out a laugh, and the tension sucking up all the air in the room suddenly broke. “If you’re going to mock me for my youth, Swift, you might as well get my age right. I’m twenty-four.”

He angled his head, waggling his eyebrows. “Are you, though?”

“I—” Oh. Huh. I trailed off, frowning as I tried to do the math. How long had I been in Yvelia now? It felt like a long, long time, but . . . gods, I had no clue. I’d been here long enough, though. I’d missed my own birthday. Iwastwenty-five now.