And he let it, if it wanted his madness, it could have it.
He blinked, confused. He wasn’t in the church anymore. Like he had been taken apart, scattered, and reformed somewhere … else.
The clearing.
He swore softly, spinning in a slow arc to take in his surroundings. It did not look as it had when he had been here with Nadya. There had been forty statues in a ring, each more grotesque and bewildering than the last.
There hadn’t been an altar in the center. Or bones scattered around the clearing, shattered skulls and broken ribs. No fresh blood scrawled in a pattern along the stones.
A black decay had begun creeping up the base of the statues. One was completely consumed. The figure had captivated Nadya when she was here. Marzenya, then. Mold dripped out the many eyes and sharp mouths of the statues.
I wish this didn’t terrify the shit out of me, Malachiasz thought idly. It would be fascinating if he didn’t feel like he was going to tremble himself into an early grave. Although he had already died, he supposed.
“Many have died, many will die, many are dying as we speak. You are not nearly as special as you think.”
Special enough that you’re here, Malachiasz shot back petulantly. He moved toward the altar, though he sensed that wasn’t the wisest decision. You clearly need me.
He picked up a cracked skull, mostly in one piece. The person it belonged to must have died from a pronounced blow to the head.
Why me? Aside from my cleverness. I’m hardly going to make this easy for you.
“When the lives of paltry mortals are spread out before me, why would I not choose the one who has consistently altered the course of the world with little regard to life?”
Malachiasz winced. That was true enough.
“The one who tells himself that it’s all for a greater cause but relishes fear and chaos and blood.”
He absently rubbed his thumb over the skull. It was for a greater cause. What would have changed had he not taken the Vultures? Or if he had not … lied to Nadya again?
Except she had been lying right back.
Why had he thought coming to this place had only been about her magic? Because if he had been in her situation it would have been the singular force driving him?
Instead she had wrenched away the only thing that had ever truly mattered to him. All to pull him down and salt the earth behind her. It was fair, ruthless even, and he’d be impressed if he wasn’t so furious.
“Do you hate her for it?”
The question caught Malachiasz off guard. Did he?
Yes. A little, a lot. Too much, not enough. He hated that it had surprised him. He hated that it hurt, that he had allowed himself to be vulnerable to that kind of pain. That he had let himself love her. It was supposed to be a game, an act, a layering of truths over lies so she trusted him enough to do as he wanted, but somewhere it got muddled and he forgot he was pretending.
He wished for indifference. Hatred burned too hot, too close, and it would be better to forget the Kalyazi girl who had broken so much. Indifference would mean a concrete answer to what he might do if he ever saw her again.
At the moment, he didn’t know whether it would be better to run her through or …
He didn’t know what the other option was. Let her kill him? She would try after what he had done. A betrayal for a betrayal. It was fair, rational. This cycle of theirs would burn forever. This was why a war between their peoples had churned for so long; there was nothing else, and there never would be.
The change he had been fighting for would never happen. His was a doomed quest, hopeless.
“Yes,” the voice confirmed, gleeful.
Malachiasz almost rolled his eyes. He set the skull down on the altar, careful, though he wasn’t sure why. Do you think reminding me what I already know will make me turn to a being I have spent my whole life fighting against? You’re supposed to be a god—be better than this. Appealing to his emotions wouldn’t work. He knew when he was being toyed with.
A tremor before the shift; he closed his eyes so when others opened, it wasn’t as jarring. There was no way to get used to this and still retain some measure of humanity, and it was the latter he’d been