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She moves around the table towards him, stopping just an arm's length away. Craning her neck to get a good look at the Harvest Lord, she smiles as he looks down at her.
Seeing them together is nothing short of awe-inspiring.
The last time I saw Viola next to a God was when Himureal was first summoned and before she truly came into her magic. Both of them exude so much raw power that I can almost taste it in the air.
Viola is darkness and shadows, her very essence one of violence, and Avidor is cool and serene as he stands above her. His skin seems to shimmer with deep, rich tones of gold, and as his hair ripples in the wind, it is reminiscent of falling leaves.
"I have followed you, Viola," he says softly, reaching out to brush her white hair behind her ear. His fingers linger down her cheekbones. She doesn't wince away from him, but she doesn't lean into the touch either.
"When you grabbed the Witch's Ladder, I knew you would eventually come for me." His eyes drag up and down her figure, and I cannot figure out what he's looking for in her. She allows his perusal, meeting his warm gaze with her steely one. He sighs, shaking his head softly and rubbing the back of his neck. "You are more magnificent than I imagined."
"I don't quite know what to say to that," she replies, quirking her head to the side.
"It's nothing, nothing. I am just in awe of the way you have handled everything that has been thrown your way. You've had such a tough go of it, and look at how beautifully it is all coming together." He takes her hands within his, tracing his long fingers over her lines of decay. The black of his fingers blends in with hers, twin corruption within their veins. "It suits you, you know? My magic."
The interaction causes an uncomfortable feeling to rise in my gut, and I am grateful when she pulls her hands slowly from his and takes a step back. "Let me introduce you to Mace -"
"Nightroot, yes," Avidor says, nodding towards me. He doesn't look at me, though. No, his eyes stay fixed on Viola in a way that is beginning to seem predatory. "The Autumn Seasonale. I was expecting him to be here. I have followed your entire journey, Viola. Introductions need not be made."
The entire journey? My face heats at the idea of this God watching us in our most intimate moments. He catches my eye and shoots me a lascivious grin that falls in a serene smile the moment Viola's attention is back on him.
"And your high priest," he continues, turning towards Zeph. "You have done well by her," he compliments.
Zeph nods but doesn't reply. While there has been an obvious increase in magic since Avidor arrived, there is also a strange disturbance in the air. It has taken on the distinct scent of ozone that it does before a storm.
Something about the Harvest Lord is activating protective instincts in me, and it looks like Zeph is feeling that reservation as well, if I'm reading his expression right.
"Why don't I show you to your accommodations?" I say, stepping forward. "Viola will be returning the other two Gods over the next few days, so we have prepared a place for you to rest and adjust to being back."
"Viola can show me, thank you," he says, turning his back to me and facing fully towards her. "We have so much to discuss, after all."
"She should rest," Zeph interjects. "Her magic is quite low after the ritual."
I mouth a silent thank you to my brother. Avidor does not seem to care. "She'll be fine. She is the Shadowweaver, after all!"
Viola gives me a tight nod, and she turns towards the amphitheater stairs, gesturing for Avidor to follow her. We watch her take the odd God out and lead him towards the village.
Tulip joins me in the pit of the theatre, hands on her hips. "That was anticlimactic, wasn't it? She didn't even pass out or bleed or anything."
I raise a confused brow at her. "She nearly fell over after generating a massive storm that somehow didn't touch us, and that was anticlimactic? Did you want her to pass out?"
Tulip shrugs in an exaggerated manner. "I expected something more than this."
"Doesn't he seem a little… strange?" Plume asks, interrupting Tulip's attempt at humor. She and Morrow head down the stairs and join the rest of us in the center of the theatre.
Zeph steps forward, rustling his hair with his hands. "He does, but Himureal is quite odd as well from the isolation."
"And Himureal is a murdering monster," Tulip snarks. "Do we really want her to be alone with him?"
"Do we have a choice?" My brother gathers up the supplies from the ritual, clicking his tongue softly. "If this is going to work, she's going to need to rule alongside Avidor. We have to give them the chance to get to know one another."
"I don't like the way his eyes lingered on Viola." My nose wrinkles.
"Jealous of a God?" Morrow says, bumping me in the shoulder.
The gentle ribbing causes the rest of the group to laugh, breaking the tension, but I cannot help my train of thought as it veers back to Viola and Avidor. Our magic is all about intentions. Any time I want to cast a spell, I have to firmly fix my intentions and let my magic know what my goal is.
What is Avidor's intention with Viola?
