Page 26 of When Death Called Life Home (When Deities Awaken #1)

Chapter 26

The Twin Brother

ALORA

T here wasn’t a manual for awakening a deity, and that grew rather obvious as Alora searched the restricted section shelves over the entire day. Ascian helped, while also taking breaks in between to get them food and water. She certainly didn’t mind him leaving her to do the reading. Not if it meant she didn’t have to walk up and down the many steps multiple times in a day. The solitude while he was gone also allowed her to process what they’d assumed to be true.

She was a deity of Life. Or would be, if they could figure out how to wake the power of it within her. However, Alora also considered the idea that her brother could very much have the deity within him, though she didn’t raise this concern with Ascian. Gods knew what he’d do if she mentioned the possibility. That also meant Maelo could have Death’s power within her, but something about it didn’t sit right with Alora. It didn’t fit Maelo. There was no other way to describe it other than a feeling that Alora had.

When the likelihood of a manual not existing became apparent, Alora followed Ascian back down the stairs and locked the gate to the restricted section. Riven sat beside Zillah at the large desk, his gaze sweeping upwards when Alora dropped the key in front of him.

“Find anything of use?” Riven asked curiously.

Ascian shrugged. “Yes, and no. We found confirmation of Tallulah’s thoughts, but nothing to gauge how exactly to prove the theory.”

Zillah glanced up from her paperwork. Alora would’ve seen her ears perk forward if she were a dog. “Perhaps you should try utilising your energy.”

Ascian took the female in, studying every part of her that he could see from in front of the desk. His brows furrowed slightly as he paused on her colour- leeched hair. His lips pursed slightly before he hummed in thought. “Care to explain that line of thought?”

Alora caught sight of a twinkle of mischief in Zillah’s gaze.

“Not really, but if you must know, Death is always told in stories to worship sacrifices. Life is always told to worship creation.” Zillah shrugged, returning to her paperwork. “Only seems fitting that they’d return on the same bounds.”

“Those are stories, though,” Alora murmured.

Ascian appeared to ponder the suggestion, glancing at Alora. “Yes, but a lot of stories tend to hold some truth to them. It wouldn’t hurt to explore the possibility she’s right.”

“You’re going to try a sacrifice?” Alora deadpanned.

Ascian paused and cringed slightly. “I’ll figure something out. In the meantime, you need to explore the well of your energy.”

Alora sighed. “And let me guess, what better way than with a scholar right here in the Academy?”

Rivens head snapped up from whatever book he read and he lifted his hand. “That would be me.”

Alora’s nose scrunched. Not that she disliked the guy, he seemed nice, but she hadn’t missed the tension in Ascian when he finally followed her up after speaking with Riven. Until she knew what had happened, she wasn’t about to let herself grow close to someone else.

“Do we really need to be the ones to stop the war?” Alora asked. She turned her attention back to Ascian who offered her a sullen smile. A topic he’d talk to her about when they were alone next, if he could keep his composure when he was finally allowed to touch her again.

“Don’t worry about the war right now. Just focus on playing around with your energy, okay? Have fun with it.”

“Have fun with it,” Alora mumbled beneath her breath while nodding. “I can try.”

Riven stood when Alora’s gaze landed on him, motioning to the exit and leading her into the hallways. They walked in silence. Their footsteps echoed, only disappearing as they took another staircase to the next floor and passed what Alora assumed to be classrooms. Strange to think there were any in a land where deities had lived, but she supposed everyone was a child once. Everyone needed to learn how to do even basic things.

“How many people study here?” She asked as they passed another room with a small group in it.

“It depends on the year,” Riven started. “But we generally have, at most, a hundred per year. The Academy may appear large on the outside, but only one floor has bedrooms on it, and tutoring too many novices at a time often means a few wouldn’t get the attention they might need.”

“I assume they aren’t all studying the same thing?”

Riven flashed her a grin and shook his head. “Not at all. Reapers come here to get proficient enough for field work, then leave once the Elders receive notice of such proficiency. Vitarce are here less often, but the ones who attend wish to master their energy rather than fight in the war.”

Alora nodded. “What about Scholars?”

Riven paused, his movement forward faltered before stopping altogether. He spoke slowly, as if choosing his words carefully. “Scholars are those that come from either side with a similar purpose, but then fall in love with the knowledge here and decide expanding and tutoring it is more important than their original plans.”

Alora nodded again, then asked, “How long have you been here? ”

Riven started walking again, leading Alora to the room at the very end. “Seven years.”

“Did you come here as a Reaper?”

Riven stopped at the door with his hand on the handle, staring down at her with amusement in his gaze. “You ask a lot of questions, little caterpillar.”

Alora screwed her nose up at the nickname. There was no affection to it, but it also wasn’t spoken as an insult. More like Riven stated a fact and that didn’t settle well in Alora’s gut. Not when butterflies formed when she imagined her energy in a physical form within her mind.

Riven hummed in thought and opened the door, gesturing for her to enter first. She eyed him as she passed, taking in the bare room. No furniture filled the space, and no artwork decorated the walls. The only thing of note were the large windows on the opposite side to the door that overlooked what appeared to be a courtyard below. Small bodies moved. Pairs danced against each other with only their fists, or a single chosen weapon. Alora noted a black haired female with a pair of sickle blades and couldn’t help smiling to herself.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she said as she turned back to Riven .

He chuckled. “Relentless, too. Yes, I first arrived here as a Reaper with my brother.”

“And you decided to change course.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Riven said. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it. “I’ll answer one question per one demonstration of your energy.”

Alora tilted her head at the proposal. “I do one thing with my energy, and you answer one of my questions?”

Riven nodded, then added, “But, it has to be something new each time.”

Alora scowled at that. Only because trying to think of different things with a power — or energy as they called it — that she was only just getting used to having felt overwhelming. Where did she even start?

“Start simple,” Riven offered as though he sensed her spiralling thoughts. “Small. Something you’ve done before coming here.”

Her ice daggers. Alora barely had to think twice about them before the cold bit into her hands. She lifted them up and examined the small details she hadn’t had time to study previously. Tiny snowflake patterns spread over the blade with wave-like patterns making up the handle. It was moulded for her hands specifically, the curves of the handle fitting into her palm perfectly.

Alora lifted her eyes and held the daggers up to show Riven. He pushed off the door and closed the distance between them, delicately taking one of the weapons from her hands with a thin layer of frost already coating his own.

“Beautiful work.” He turned and held it up to the light shining through the window. “Incredible detail. So you’re a Solar. Interesting.”

Alora held back a smug grin as she flicked her other hand up and cut his arm with the second dagger, drawing blood that dripped to the floor between them. Riven’s head snapped towards her, eyes widened and mouth agape. Before he could say anything, Alora placed her hand over the wound and weaved the butterflies in her mind like shoe laces until the cut healed. The damaged energy she received flowed from her and into her dagger, the ice darkened into blackened blood and melted to the floor, coating her hand.

Riven stood frozen as he stared at her hands. One wounding, one healing. Both creating. “A Heart's energy, too…”

It didn’t sound like he directed the words at her, so Alora said, “You owe me two answers. ”

Riven shook his head. “Three.”

“What?” Alora’s brows shot up.

The man raised his gaze to meet hers. “How did you do that? Divert the cut from reappearing on you?”

Alora shrugged because she didn’t understand it herself. It made sense in her mind, though. All stories of magic say its use comes with a cost, she just puts its cost onto something else. “A forest spirit showed me when I healed Ascian the first time.”

Riven handed her dagger back to her and rubbed his face. He almost appeared stressed, or perhaps he couldn’t quite understand how it was possible for her to do what she’d just done. “Three answers to three questions. Go on.”

Alora studied him a second as she thought. “Is there a way for someone to get lost memories back?”

Riven pursed his lips as his eyes saddened. “If you’re meaning through the use of energy? No. While Thirds can warp memories, and potentially fix them — though that is an even more dangerous task than the former — they cannot find memories. Doing so would mean potentially getting lost within your mind themselves. It’s impossible. To find your memories, you must trigger their return yourself, which has already happened has it not?”

“It has,” Alora grumbled. “But it's like trying to build a puzzle when you only have a few pieces out of thousands.”

Riven chuckled. “The important ones will return. Your second question?”

Alora looked to her hands, at the one holding her ice dagger and the other now covered in black blood. Riven reached over and gently placed his hands over hers, water dripping and then running from his palm and clearing the blood from her skin. A heated breeze followed, drying the remaining liquid.

“Thank you.” Alora let the blade reabsorb back into her skin. “Is it normal for someone to be able to use multiple types of energy?”

“No,” Riven answered instantly, as though he’d been expecting the question. “You, I’m guessing, are a Sacral. I’ve met few individuals able to use your type of energy, but it’s been recorded they can often use the other energy’s to a lesser extent. Where will you be strongest? Your instincts. Sacrals are often heavily connected to the Elysia forest and the animals it houses.” He paused as he pondered something, deciding to enlighten her. “ It’s believed they evolved from Elysian and Primal pairings.”

Alora perked up at the new term, something Riven grinned and raised a brow at. Right, her last question before she had to try something else . She almost stamped her foot as she groaned and asked, “What are Primals?”

His grin widened. “Primals were a humanoid race who lived with enormous beasts much like the Reaper’s guardians, but scaled and winged. They could speak to them, though, and the beasts listened when asked to do any task. They lived with the animals of the forest, worshipping them and the nature around them. They followed few rules, had fewer individual leaders, and survived off pure instinct.”

Alora opened her mouth to get Riven to expand on this information further but he raised an eyebrow at her, so she glared at him and closed her mouth. What else could she do? What other energies hadn’t she tried yet? Ascian’s — a Crown . The thought flickered through her mind before she even registered it as a memory.

Alora closed her eyes and concentrated, focusing on the many butterflies within her mind, then pausing when she found an owl feather amongst them. Owls were a symbol of wisdom, right?

She latched onto it, gently sending a butterfly over it and following the thread connected to it. When she reached the end, an owl sat there staring at her, blinking. She tried to speak to it, but her mouth wouldn’t move. Words wouldn’t leave her, even in her mind.

No. Of course not. You don’t speak within your mind, you think.

Alora searched the butterflies in her mind and whispered a thought into one of the stronger ones before sending it flying towards the owl.

Dance, little owl, dance.

Once she witnessed the butterfly sink into the owl, Alora opened her eyes and found Riven dancing in the silence of the room. A perfect portrait of shock. When he didn’t stop after a minute, Alora’s grin dropped.

“You have to pull the thought back,” Riven snapped, more out of concern than anger.

Alora’s eyes widened and she called to her butterfly. The insect fluttered back down the thread of feathers and joined the others waiting in her mind.

Rivens arms and legs stopped. He rested his hands on his knees and shook his head. “One more question and then we’re done for the day.”

Disappointment flooded Alora’s body. She’d barely gotten started. She sighed, though, and voiced her last question. “Where are the Primals now?”

Riven straightened and rolled his shoulders back. “Dead.”