Page 67 of The Edge of Darkness

“You could have refused.”

“No, I could not have.”

I turned to her. “What do you mean?”

“Torin’s word is law. I had no choice but to obey.”

“Oh. That seems . . . harsh.”

“It is no different from what I’m sure you are used to.” The words were bitter as she kept her gaze on the dark water.

I shook my head. “That concept is foreign to me.”

Her brows pinched ever so slightly, as if curiosity had gotten the best of her. Like several questions danced on the end of her tongue. Her voice lowered as she asked one. “It is not that way with your gods?”

“No. Our gods grant us free will. The fates guide our hands, but we are free to choose the paths we take. They’re not as involved in our daily lives—or at least, not with mine.”

She finally met my eyes. “Then what of the sacrifices?”

“Sacrifices?”

“All gods require sacrifices.”

I blinked. “Ours don’t.”

Her brows pinched further. “Then how do you appease your gods if you do not sacrifice to them?”

I slowly shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know. Perhaps we stay in their graces just by being good in our hearts.”

Confusion consumed her features, and she turned to look back out at the blackened sea.

“Silas told me the story about your goddess’s origin, how she came here looking for a place to call home.”

“This world will never be our home.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I remained silent.

To my surprise, Nivelle unlaced her fingers to trace a groove in the wooden rail, and continued. “There were gods in our homeworld who did not see eye to eye, and one became greedy. She caused a great war. Much like this Lyceius you speak of. The witches know the story of your fallen god. Torin keeps us informed of the happenings in the human and fae realms—to an extent—so that we can relay our messages and convey the necessary urgencies and instructions.”

“I see,” I said. “To be honest, I’m afraid humans have all but forgotten the importance of the gods and the role they play in our lives. It wasn’t until I found myself in the fae realm that my eyes were truly opened to how naïve we were—how far we’d strayed. The fae are very much in tune with the gods, which is something I’m becoming more accustomed to.”

Nivelle picked at a notch in the wood, then looked up at me with curious eyes. “How can a human possess the power of the gods? How is that even possible? Especially if you say humans are . . . less than worthy.”

“It’s a long story. One that I was in denial of before. If it weren’t for Niall being my mate, I’d probably be dooming us all.” I didn’t know why I was telling her all of this, but she was listening, and didn’t seem abhorred to do so. “He helped me understand my power. Helped me train. Showed me that there’s so much more in this world than what I’d ever known. The stories we grew up with warned us to stay away from the fae realm, and not to seek out anything foreign. It turns out that those stories were all wrong.”

The witch nodded. “Not everything is what it seems.”

The words strung a familiar chord. “That saying . . . it was on the gateway arch on your Isle, the one we entered through, from the cave’s stairway.”

“The Akksi, yes. It is spelled to only open for a witch or a Dionach. And the saying is fitting—since Torin created an entire realm for us to thrive in, all within a simple enchantment.”

“An illusion,” I confirmed.

She nodded again. “A pretty little lie.”

“But something like that—to create such an intricate illusion, and keep it going—must require a lot of power.”

“It does. That’s why ritual sacrifice is so important. It replenishes Torin’s power source. Sacrifices were something that every god demanded in our homeworld, and so we carry on the sacraments here in this one.”