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The final scroll was complete.
With a heave of relief, she shook herself back to the present and gathered the basket. Her legs were stiff from so long at the desk, aching when she kneeled to place the letters outside Ms. Securia’s imposing office door, shut tight for the evening.
All she needed now was some food and water, then she could be done with this day.
And yet...
She looked around. She was the only one still down here. Even Mr. Placi had long since retired. Everything was still. Only her lamp gave any light.
And if she was right in her suspicion, then Aurelius was still in danger...
Her hand hovered over Ms. Securia’s office door handle as her curiosity dug at her.
She was already in enough trouble. And Jaspar had made clear that this room was off-limits unless she invited you in.
But... if Aurelius was in trouble, then all Mestibes was in trouble as well. Would she really put all of those people at risk, just to protect herself? Because of her weakness? Because of her cowardice.
Just like she had done to Aurelius?
The sting of Zosime’s mockery burned her ears like she was still standing among the fighters. All spurred on by looking at her. All desperate to prove they were nothing like her.
Are you a delicate little flower, Teigra? Or are you a rose with fucking thorns?
Teigra tried to steady the shake in her hand.
Then she opened the door.
Her lamp glowed along the cold bindings of the codices and the watching face of the goddess. With a catch in her throat, she closed the door quietly and scanned the shelves.
Eventually, she found what she was looking for, something she was certain the high envoy would have. It was the same codex she’d often read in the chilled air of prelight back in the Lapiso Library: Gods, Myths and Beasts, written by the same man for whom that library was named.
Teigra rested her lamp on one of the higher shelves and turned the pages, listening out nervously for any sound beyond the door. She flicked quickly past creatures she could only dream of seeing—the dryads of the twisted groves in Vaticily, the nerids encountered by Ondocian sailors in the Illhas and Macrinos Seas—until she came to the section she was looking for.
The title stared back at her from the top of the page, the single word bearing the cold reality of what she suspected Calix was.
Therians.
Her throat going dry, Teigra read:
Children born between a mortal and one of the Five High Gods are sometimes treated as a blessing. Some even dare to call them “demi-gods.”
But nothing could be further from the truth.
Satyrs? Phoenixes? Sirens? Eidolons? Gorgons?
These five wretched creatures are “therians”—twisted children of the divine, thirsting for a godly power that they will never manage to quench. And on nights of the sable moon, when all is darkest, they reveal their true nature.
And what a wretched nature it is. As wretched as the creatures themselves. Because make no mistake, the therian is a monster, a beast of bronze, cursed with a taste of the divine power which sired it.
For why else would these beasts so often befall those known to have insulted the Five? To be birthed by heathens and betrayers, perverts and the corrupt?
The Five Therians
Phoenix—Born of Rina and taking the form of a winged human engulfed in fire. They thirst alone for terror and are empowered to strike fear and hopelessness. A phoenix’s true chrysalis (the divine item that permanently awakens their power) is the consumption of a Rinathi war priest’s heart.
Gorgon—Born of Vatic and taking the form of a human with serpentine attributes. They thirst alone for misfortune and are empowered to twist the fate of any mortal at a point of indecision. A gorgon’s true chrysalis is being bitten by an albino opium snake.
Siren—Born of Ondo and taking the form of a winged human with attributes of a sea bird. They thirst alone for greed and are empowered to write contracts that grant wishes and wildest dreams, always at a terrible price. A siren’s true chrysalis is wearing a deep-ink pearl from the darkest trenches of the Illhas Sea.
