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I knew it would be an ugly fight the moment he pressed his body against hers, but I did not foresee the events that would unfold once she stabbed her blade into his side. Maybe the sight of the blood spilling woke up a base survival instinct in her, or perhaps she is just rapidly descending into madness.
Regardless, something woke up in that cave today.
All but empty, the Harsh Butcher is shutting down for the evening. The connection is cycling between groups of sleeping Racers and those who are attempting to gain ground during the night. Unfortunately for them, some of the more talented members of the Spring Seasonale, Plume included, have decided to stir the beasts living within the Summit. Most expected to see a drastic reduction in Racer’s come morning, having become a meal during the twilight hours, but I had shielded some comfortable resting spots in hopes of saving a few. But still, none of it made for particularly exciting viewing. The human element lurking in the shadows is always much more entertaining.
Plume had long since left Loris and me sitting at our table to go into the command center and watch the fruits of her labor unfold. While the opportunity was there as the women of Ytopie searched for a bedmate, I am not in the position to take someone home tonight. Viola Mistflow grudgingly occupies my thoughts, weaving her way into my mind despite my attempts to focus on the Race. She excites and unsettles me. She’s attractive, though not the type that turns heads on the street. She possesses a quiet beauty hidden behind a mask of cold. I can’t help but wonder what drives her.
I want to crack open that brain of hers and see the thoughts chasing one another.
Maybe it’s time for me to be done drinking.
My friend is gazing at me over the top of his ale, his brow furrowed in contemplation. “Loris, why are you looking at me like that?” I feel a touch paranoid about the direction of my thoughts. I wonder if he can hear the strange feelings Mistflow has conjured in me.
“I’m just wondering what you have planned, is all.”
“Planned?” I say, knotting my brow in confusion.
“Yeah, for putting an end to the Race.”
My eyes widen and dart around the room to see who could possibly be listening in. Apart from the bartender, Bracken, who is carrying barrels of drink in from a storeroom, the only other person here is a ruddy-faced drunk who passed out on his stool. Still, one can never be too careful when discussing treason. I stand and motion for Loris to follow me out the door.
We step out into the balmy summer evening, the air thick on our skin as if it had been painted on. A smattering of stars pepper the sky with a soft silver sheen, and the orange glow of the moon lights our paths. I begin walking down the path towards the Palace of Patricians. Loris only has to take one step for every two of mine and catches up with me quickly.
I shoot him a sidelong glance and lower my voice, “What have you heard?”
His face splits with a rakish grin, and he bumps his shoulder into mine. “Nothing, seriously, but I know you, Zeph. I’ve known you for a long time now, and you would not have joined the Patricians to just let this continue the way it does. Plus, you’re so damn jittery.”
The weight of the secret lifting off my shoulders makes me feel as if I’ve gained some height, but it’s still not enough for me to look eye to eye with Loris - he’d always tower over me.
“You’re right, but please, this is between us, obviously. If Mace hears...”
“I know, I know. If Mace hears all of Ytopie is going to feel his wrath. He’s majorly attached to this Race.” Loris shoves his hands in his pockets as he looks up at the sky. “I just wonder why.”
I shrug, looking up at the Palace as it comes into view. It’s a beautiful building with its stone columns and colored glass windows, and I’m glad my home has a view of it, but its beauty is all but shattered once you know what goes on inside it. “I’ve always thought Mace was very particular about the way things had to unravel in the Race. For the longest time, I could wave it away as his need for control and power overriding his good sense. But now I think it’s something more.”
Loris makes the turn towards my home in the tower before I even invite him over. At this point, invitations are a formality. Frequently, I’ll come home to Loris stretched out at my table, his spiked boots resting on top of it as he eats my food or drinks my drink. I’ve never minded much - he’s become more family than a friend over the past few years, and the affection I feel for this Bliksem is one of my fondest relationships.
He doesn’t say much as we climb the steps and enter my home. I cast fire into my lights, bringing a rosy glow to the cozy room. He snorts. “I’ll never understand why you won’t use the grid.”
The grid is powered by Bliksem day in and day out, the storm magic running through it enough to keep most homes in relative comfort.
“I told you, it has a sound, Loris! And I don’t want to see the spell particles.”
His laugh is a burst that reminds me of a bird call. “The grid does not have noise, and you could only see the particles if you focused on them.”
I unbutton my overshirt and hang it on a hook by the door. A round sitting room filled with overstuffed furniture that hardly ever gets sat on is all that stands between us and the balcony where we spend most of our time. With all the Seasonale here, we can keep the weather mild and precisely as we need it year-round - why wouldn’t we take advantage of that and enjoy the evening outside?
Loris takes a detour to the kitchen, snags a bottle of amber liquor, and then joins me outside, taking a deep swig directly from the bottle. “I’ve wanted to step in and stop the Race for a while. There are plenty of resources - we live in luxury here. With the combination of powers held by the Seasonale and their lesser magics, we can have a thriving society where humans and fae can live in harmony. I cannot fathom any reason for the Gods to insist that it continue except to control the masses and maintain their addicting power dynamic.”
I nod encouragingly at this, relief that he feels exactly as I do spreading through my body and loosening me enough to allow me to slip into a seat at the outdoor table.
“So many here are happy to allow it to continue, just for the entertainment factor,” I say, motioning for him to join me at the table.
He doesn’t, keeping his back to me and looking out at the Lowlands and the Summit, where untold numbers of Racers fight for the right to live as we do every day. “I just don’t understand why the Gods haven’t stepped in and said enough, Zeph. They cannot possibly need sacrifices and recharging like we tell the humans. Our power is directly from the Gods, and we don’t need that.”
It is killing me not to tell him what I know - that the Gods are gone, and signs are pointing to magic waning. If word got out, it would be pandemonium, the very fabric of our society falling to tatters. The alcohol has my head fuzzy and my inhibitions lowered, so I can’t help myself when the words tumble out. “About the Gods…”
Loris sighs deeply before turning back to face me, running his fingers through his hair. When he does that, it sticks up at odd angles, giving the impression of electricity running through the tips. His dark eyes glower at me, and I feel the power radiating from him. “What about the Gods, Zeph?”
