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Max and I both freeze, exchanging furtive glances. “What do you mean, abandoned us?”
A rakish grin drifts across Tulip’s sweet face. She circles the fire, enjoying our undivided attention. The flames cast a ghostly flicker upon us, creating an eerie atmosphere that encourages the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up.
“My family is descended from a high priest of Solarius, the Summer God. Stories of that time have secretly been passed through my family for centuries, from mother to daughter. Growing up, I would hear stories from my mother of how in the age of Krillium’s infancy, the four gods reigned supreme, their dominion held by the devotion of the worshipers.” Tulip’s story is a performance; the dirt of the cave is her stage. Max and I are enraptured from the first line. Our attention never wavers.
“But as the humans’ hearts began to stray from their divine rulers, a tempest of fury stirred within the godly realm. Humanity was united in their desire for autonomy and control over their fates and dared to challenge the Gods. You see, the Gods would grant favors and magic to the most pious people, allowing them to ascend to greatness unimaginable by the rest. Fueled by jealousy for the selective blessings bestowed upon the most pious, a brave coven of humans harnessed the ambient magic of the land to cast a banishment spell upon the four deities.”
I raise an eyebrow and look at Max, who just shrugs. Neither of us has ever heard of humans being able to cast magic. “But humans do not have magic, Tulip,” Max says, her brow furrowed.
“That’s what we’ve been led to believe. But there is magic everywhere, and humans are just as capable of harnessing it as fae.”
My mind flicks to the Witch’s Ladder hiding in my pack. That is Winter magic I should, theoretically, be able to harness as a human.
“But this formidable spell demanded a steep price—a solemn pact forged between the Gods and the four noble families. Himureal built into the spell that each family would pledge a descendant to serve as a vessel, a conduit for the Gods to wield their power in the world once more,” Tulip continues, pacing around the fire.
“Wait a second, Tulip,” Max interrupts. “If the Gods were so bad that humans wanted to banish them, why would they agree to put a path for the Gods to come back in the spell?”
Tulip shrugs, chewing her lip in thought. “The only thought I have is that the Gods knew that it was inevitable they would be banished, so they went willingly on the condition of a way to return eventually.”
“It’s not a bad theory,” I say. “The Gods are cleverer than all of us. Why wouldn’t they build a fail-safe for themselves?”
“It certainly sounds like something Himureal would do,” Max says with a fearful shudder.
Himureal, the Frostweaver, was the monster parents threatened their children with to make them behave. His frigid touch could turn blood to ice and freeze the very breath in your lungs. He commanded shadows that could manipulate the way you see the world. But worst of all, he could see your past and future in blood. A single drop was all he needed, and your entire path was revealed.
His magic was used to curse people, to trick them into servitude towards him. Children would be told that if they didn’t listen, Himureal would come and prick their fingers while they slept. He would take that drop of blood and bind it to him, causing the children to be forever tied to his whim.
Looking back, I realize what a horrific thing it is for parents to threaten their children with.
“Anyways,” Tulip continues, interrupting my thoughts of the Frostweaver, “the powerful spell tore the Gods from their celestial thrones, thrusting them into a pocket realm beyond reach. Stripped of their power, the Gods’ essence seeped into the land, bestowing select humans with the gift of magic. Thus, the fae and the Seasonale were born, embodiments of the Gods’ legacy.”
I choke on the sip of water I’ve taken from my canteen. “You mean to tell me that fae are just humans who happened to absorb some God magic?”
“Yep, that’s exactly what I’m saying!”
I laugh, shaking my head. “That makes no sense. They’re so different from us!” My mind drifts to Mace Nightroot, with his otherworldly beauty. His slender figure and pointed features. He looks unlike any human I’ve ever seen.
Tulip ignores me, engrossed in her own performance. “But with this new magic came a virulent curse. Not all humans could bear the weight of this ancient power and perished under the weight of it. The land bore witness to a tide of resentment as those untouched by magic blamed the fae for the loss of their loved ones. This is the true origin of the supposed virus that swept Krillium all those years ago.
“In the heart of Krillium, the fae found sanctuary in the city of Ytopie. Yet, humans’ rage and inability to accept the fae’s gifts still smoldered. Desiring to reclaim the Gods’ power and strengthen their influence, the fae devised the Race—a trial designed to test for innate magical abilities in humans and identify vessels that would help bring the gods’ return. They hoped to find anyone with any hint of magic in them and bring them to Ytopie for testing in hopes of finding those promised vessels.”
Max scoffs, leaning back on her elbows. “Yeah, like the humans would go along with that,” she drawls.
“Well, of course not,” Tulip answers, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “The humans were not willing participants. Persuasion to participate came with the aid of Autumn’s subtle influence.”
“Fucking Autumn,” I mutter under my breath.
Those countless stories of the horror that was Himureal never affected me much growing up. Autumn and their god, Avidor, was always the more sinister of the Seasonale to me. Decay, influence, and prosperity could all be utilized to bend just about anything to the wielder’s will.
Tulip moves around Max and me, putting on a show that I do not doubt she’s done before. “The influence the first Autumn Seasonale utilized caused the early humans to forget their role in the Gods’ banishment. Instead, the fae wove a tale of sacrifice, proclaiming that the Race’s purpose was to infuse the land with courage and strength, boosting the power of the gods and the Seasonale.”
A chill runs up my spine. Could that be possible? Is the reason we compete in this Race year after year not truly for the Gods but for the fae to find a way to bring them back and further bolster their own power? The more I think about it, the more sense it makes, and the tighter the knot in my chest wrenches. The realization sends my gut churning, and the rabbit I consumed earlier threatens to reappear.
An animal howls in the distance, making all of us start. “There is a prophecy in my family,” Tulip continues, quiet and somber. “It says that the vessels will bring the Gods back to destroy the world as we know it. They’re essentially anchors to the land for the Gods, and once they’re identified, nothing can stop the Gods from utilizing them however they want.”
I scrunch my nose, a shiver running down my spine. “Is there any way to keep the Gods from returning?” She shrugs and snatches my canteen from me before draining it.
“Yeah. You kill the vessels.”
