Page 69 of The Arcane God

But Greya had chosen a different path—and she hadn’t necessarily run it by the other witches first.

“I hear you—both of you—and your concerns,” Greya said, taking a deep breath. She needed the Coven on board with her if she was going to be successful in the long run. “But if I am being honest, I think a different path is necessary—one that protects us, but is still proactive.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Aria asked, her wrinkled brow wrinkling further.

“The daemon—the one we held here—” she began.

“You mean the one you let go,” Jon interrupted bitterly. Half of the Coven had been glad to be rid of the daemon in their company, and did not desire more bloodshed, but the other had been upset to learn that he’d been released, unpunished for his involvement.

“Yes, that one,” Greya said, not backing down. “I haven’t told the Coven yet, but he’s agreed to spy for us—for our Coven—and feed us information. He is a daemon who does not desire this level of conflict. He wants to channel Gaia’s will, and eventually overthrow their king.”

“What?” Jon asked skeptically. “And you believe him?”

“I do,” Greya maintained.

“Well then, where’s this information? Have you heard anything from him that could help us?” Jon asked combatively.

“Not yet,” Greya answered, feeling her resolve falter ever so slightly. It was one thing to have promised to pass on information while he was here, it was another to actually do so.

“We should stay out of daemonic affairs entirely!” Aria exclaimed, placing her hands on Greya’s desk in emphasis. “I don’t know what you hope to accomplish by working with them, but they cannot be trusted.”

“As I explained,” Greya began patiently, “I hope to pave a new way—to help those who want a different path to overthrow their king, so that violence is reduced, if not eliminated. It does not have to be this way, but it takes courage to change.”

She could tell Aria was not buying it, and she wasn’t the only one. It was hard to get the entire Coven on board to do anything, let alone change their entire dynamic with daemons.

But she had faith—she had to—and she’d keep trying until she was blue in the face.

“I don’t know about this, Greya,” Jon expressed.

“I have heard both of your concerns,” Greya responded with finality. “And they have been noted. I am sure this is not the last time we will discuss it. However, for now, I feel we must stay this course, and see what comes of it. Can you both agree to that at least?”

The witches eyed each other, and then her.

“I suppose,” Aria grumbled.

“And you, Jon?” Greya asked when he did not respond.

“Not for much longer, Greya,” he said, and it sounded like a threat. “I need to protect my family.” Then he turned on his heel and walked dramatically out of the altar room.

Aria looked after him, tsking, before turning and making her way out as well.

Greya sighed as they left, looking over at Perse, who had been watching silently during that entire exchange.

“Well, that was no fun,” he said.

“No, it wasn’t,” Greya agreed, rubbing her forehead.

“I think they’ll come around—in time,” Perse said soothingly, coming to rub her shoulders.

“Maybe,” Greya said. “But only if my daemon spy can deliver results. Only if they can see that we can work with some of them—trust some of them—to figure our way out of this mess. But my fear is…what if he doesn’t? What should I do then?”

“You’ll do what you need to, what Gaia guides you to,” Perse said with confidence. He always had so much confidence in her, and it buoyed her ever so slightly. “Oh, by the way,” he said, stopping her shoulder rub and reaching into his pocket. “This message arrived for you—brought by a messenger from Aquilo.”

Greya took the folded and worn piece of paper from him. Was it a message from Northe? Or a mortal desiring a trade? She wasn’t sure she had the energy to process either of those right now, but she opened it nonetheless. It was her duty after all.

The ink on the paper was dark, and the paper ripped, as if it had been taken off of a larger piece. She didn’t recognize the handwriting, and there was no signature at the bottom. In fact, there was just one word—the name of a medium-sized village, located halfway between Aquilo and Ternan.

Invale.