Fifth moon, afternoon, day forty-three of the siege
Grand temple square, First Circle, Rilporin, Wheat Lands
The earth was salted with blood and the sky wept and men died and Dom had his love by his side. It was beautiful. It was perfect.
The Fox God was struggling to escape, but the Dark Lady was enraptured with Her new toy. The possible futures shifted and aligned into new patterns in Dom’s head as the assault on the gates drew more and more men from the square. Patterns if the Mireces won, patterns if they lost, patterns if the Fox God died, patterns if He lived … all flowing and sliding over each other like plates of ice on a winter pond.
The images stole his vision and he flailed for the Dark Lady, for the heat of Her skin and the fire of Her touch. ‘It’s all changing,’ he gasped, one hand on Her, one on the Fox God, ‘everything’s changing second by second, death by death. The future hanging from the tip of a sword. I can’t see. I can’t … I can’t see.’
His voice crept up into a terrified squeak and She was there, soothing him, cupping the back of his skull in one hand, the other holding the Fox God by the throat. ‘Hush, little calestar,’ She murmured. ‘Hush. Your work is nearly done.’
‘Are you there?’ he asked, gripping Her forearm. ‘Can you help me?’
He heard Her chuckle, the sound like maggots in his head. ‘I can, yes,’ She said. ‘The question is whether I will.’
She shoved him away and Dom was bereft, weeping, blind with visions. He heard the Fox God cry out in terror and pain shivered through his head, his right eye.
‘Time to wake up, Fox God!’ he screamed, the force of it clearing his sight. Crys was on his knees, the Dark Lady’s hands pressed either side of his skull, squeezing.
‘No,’ Crys said with the voice of a god, even though the pain in his skull must be monstrous, ‘it’s time for you to wake up. Calestar.’
The words silenced the whirling chaos in Dom’s head, and the blue eye of the Fox God burnt into him as he met its gaze, scouring him clean as everything fell away but the shining silver light and the warmth, the joy and the utter love. For the first time in months, for the first time in years, nothing ate away at the edges of him and he was still. Just still.
I forgive you, He said, the words echoing clear in the godspace in Dom’s head, and I love you. I am awake, and I waken you in turn. You know what you need to do.
Dom breathed in the scent of flowers, the tang of lightning. The storm raging inside shivered and fell away. ‘Stop, my love. Stop.’
The Dark Lady held the Fox God’s jaw open, Her other hand forcing between His teeth and down His throat to pull Him from His fleshy host. The man surrounding the godseed writhed and choked, hands pulling at Her wrists, helpless. Dom could see his throat swelling, veins standing proud in his temples.
‘Stop,’ Dom said again.
The murderous glare She turned in Dom’s direction nearly buckled his knees, but he forced himself on.
‘I’ve done everything you’ve ever wanted. You know I love you? You know, don’t you? I’ve killed for you, hurt people for you, given you every secret I hold and given them gladly. For you. To you.’
The Dark Lady was impatient, but She allowed Dom to slide his arm around Her waist, holding the Fox God a little looser, allowing Him to breathe. ‘I know,’ She murmured. ‘But now is not the time to demand a reward.’
Dom smiled. ‘You know I could never demand anything from you, my love,’ he said, voice cracking. ‘I only ask you to forgive me. I do love you, more than you will ever know, but everything else was a lie.’
A frown marred the Dark Lady’s perfect features as Dom tightened his grip on Her waist, pulled the dagger from his belt and stabbed Her in the heart.
There was nothing in Dom’s world except Her. Beautiful, terrible, mocking, clever Her. Arrogant Her, who couldn’t conceive that there might be anything left in him She hadn’t seen. One tiny silver shining shimmer of Light in a sea of Blood. A light Dom had thought guttered long ago, but which had sparked in the Fox God’s presence, its brightness hidden in His reflected godlight.
Even so, it shouldn’t have worked. It was impossible. You couldn’t kill a goddess with a knife. And yet … as Her hands fell slack in disbelief, the Fox God surged off his knees and kissed Her on the mouth, swallowing Her scream. Drinking Her.
Silver light and black light billowed upwards in a vortex that blinded Dom and pierced the clouds. The silver light surrounded the black in a shining net and drew it back down. Down into the Fox God.
The Trickster broke the kiss and fell back, choking, retching and racked with pain. Black lines ran from His mouth up to His eyes, down His bulging throat. Black lines chased by silver as the essences fought for control of the flesh.
There was another sheeting, discordant blare of black light, so bright She was outlined by it, and Her second scream, unconstrained by the Fox God’s mouth this time, burst Dom’s eardrums and blasted from their feet every child of the Dark Path within hearing.
And pain, oh gods the pain, as every pulse of the raw energy that made Her divine, that She’d stolen from the Dancer so long ago and claimed and twisted and warped for Herself, arced from Her through the knife and into him.
They collapsed together to their knees, the Dark Lady keening and Dom convulsing with black lightning. He could feel blood running from his eardrums, could smell scorched flesh as his hand, melted to the knife hilt, blackened into a claw. His vision smeared as his eyes boiled in his head.
‘But … but you love me,’ She said, Her voice small, disbelieving and, slowly, scared. Her fear cracked his heart into pieces. Her eyes were gold and filling with black blood, streaking down Her cheeks like lines of ink. It ran from the corners of Her mouth, obscuring Her words, pumped steadily from around the blade, hissing like snakes as it fell to melt the stone beneath Her and stain his arm.
Her pain crashed in waves of emotion so strong it knocked weapons from hands, burst eardrums, ruptured hearts. Scores died and hundreds more were driven past the edge of madness and still She lived. Suffered at his hand, Her pain his torment, Her fear his eternity.
Oh, my love, forgive me. Forgive me, please. I love you I love you I love you.
Dom was pain personified, pain perfected, pain distilled into its purest essence. A gibbering, writhing wreck of a man. Her eyes were entirely black now, and he couldn’t see past the blood to the expression they held. And still he loved Her. He always would.
The Fox God wrapped Dom in His arms and pulled, breaking Dom’s fingers to free him, and then wrestled him away, the black lightning flickering over Him without harm.
‘No!’ The loss was so profound that, despite the agony, Dom struggled to reach for his love. To take it back, to apologise, to tell Her again that he loved Her. To ask to go with.
The Fox God cradled him against His chest and murmured words he had no ears to hear, while a great sucking, howling vacuum rushed around them with the noise of a million screaming sacrifices.
At its centre the Dark Lady.
At its centre pain and avarice and a lust vaster than the world. She arched Her spine, hands even now trying to cup the blood and press it back inside. Her mouth opened impossibly wide and every one of Her teeth curved backwards like a snake’s. She screamed like the death of innocents, like She was innocent, a scream that shattered Dom’s heart into a million weeping pieces and which he echoed with every fibre of his being.
And then She burst.