Chapter 180

I needed a break.

I pushed back from the desk, kissed Thae gently on the top of her head, and stepped out of the study.

As soon as I entered the hall, I heard muffled laughter, excited shrieks, and tiny roars. The sound pulled me toward the bailey almost automatically.

It was late afternoon now. The walls of the keep cast long shadows across the stone, though pockets of warm golden sunlight still lingered here and there.

Nim occupied one of those sunlit patches. Or rather, Briva and Morien occupied Nim.

The giant knelt patiently while the two little girls used him like a living jungle gym. Briva climbed onto his shoulders while Morien swung carefully from one of his massive arms. When Briva charged him with a war cry that sounded suspiciously like something she’d learned from Tansy, Nim let out an exaggerated grunt and rolled dramatically onto his back as though he’d been struck by a battering ram instead of a preschooler.

All the while, he carefully maneuvered Morien away from any accidental elbows or tumbling limbs with a level of awareness that honestly bordered on supernatural.

The three of them were completely absorbed in their game. For a few moments, nothing else in the world seemed to exist for them.

Naevira stood several yards away. But she wasn’t watching them. Her attention was fixed entirely on the stone wall surrounding the imprisoned Weeping Gallows.

Tiny vines rippled slowly beneath her mycelium skin. Not violently like they had back in Highstone when she’d touched the Gallows there. This was subtler. Slower. Like gentle waves spreading across still water.

I walked up quietly behind her and rested my hands lightly on her shoulders.

“What do you feel?” I asked softly.

She didn’t seem to hear whispers from the trees the way others occasionally did. But she felt something. Especially when near the Gallows.

“I don’t know,” she answered absently. “Warmth.”

The vines beneath her skin shifted lazily.

“Like sunlight during winter.” She frowned faintly. “Like there’s something at the back of my mind I’m forgetting.”

I glanced toward Nim.

His eyes met mine immediately. A moment later, he, Briva, and Morien disappeared from the bailey without interrupting their game - stepping to somewhere safe.

Against my better judgment, I began to hum softly.

The melody was almost shapeless, little more than a quiet vibration meant to focus mana rather than entertain. Stone groaned softly in response. The wall surrounding the Gallows slowly parted.

Naevira remained frozen. She stared at the twisted black tree with an unreadable expression.

I applied the slightest pressure to her shoulders.

She took one hesitant pace forward.

Then another.

The vines beneath her skin began moving faster.

Another pace forward and several broke through her skin entirely, writhing outward toward the tree like dark roots seeking sunlight.

Her breathing quickened. A faint reddish sheen of sweat appeared across her face.

“That’s enough,” I said immediately, unease twisting in my chest.

But her feet kept moving.

Not consciously - as though something inside her had already begun answering the Gallows’ call.

The trunk split open. Dull red light spilled from the crack like the glow from a furnace door.

More vines burst through the skin of Naevira’s face and neck, stretching desperately toward the opening - toward the light.

Then suddenly she turned and slammed herself against me. “Don’t make me go!” she cried in Elithae, clutching at me desperately as she shoved both of us backward away from the tree.

The Gallows trunk slowly sealed shut again, swallowing the crimson glow back into darkness.

“It’s alright,” I told her immediately, wrapping my arms around her tightly and stroking her hair. “You don’t have to go.”

Her entire body trembled against mine.

“Stay here,” I whispered. “Stay with us. You’re safe.”

Her breathing broke into ragged sobs as she buried herself against my chest.

“You’re safe,” I repeated softly. “I’ve got you.”

* * *

“Something’s happening,” I told everyone. “And it’s happening soon.”

I looked around the table at the people gathered there - Ashlara, Elise, Mirri, Serah, the ferals, and Naevira.

I’d just finished explaining what had happened outside with the Weeping Gallows.

“Why the hell did you think that was a good idea?” Mirri demanded immediately. “You had no idea what was going to happen.”

“Nim took Briva and Morien away before I tried anything,” I reminded her calmly. “I’m not going to let anything happen to them.” My gaze moved around the room. “Or the other children. Or any of you.”

I reached over and squeezed Naevira’s hand gently. “That includes you,” I told her softly.

She immediately looked away, cheeks darkening faintly, though she gave a small nod.

Ashlara leaned forward slightly. “So what do we do?” she asked, dragging the conversation back on track.

I exhaled slowly. “Whatever the Covenant is doing, we can’t let them finish it.” I rubbed at my face tiredly. “If they actually intend to kill all the gods, they’re going to destroy the world.”

I shook my head. “But I don’t think they’re stupid enough to believe outright slaughter is the answer. They have to know what happens when Faith gets released uncontrolled.” My eyes drifted toward the notes spread across the table. “So either they have a way to disable the gods…”

I paused. “Or control them.”

The room went quiet.

“These aren’t people trying to reform society,” I continued. “They’re fanatics preparing to force change on a global scale.”

I tapped one of the ledgers. “And whatever they’re planning? It involves Earth too.”

Everyone’s attention sharpened immediately.

“So far,” I said, “we’ve mostly found weapons and medical supplies coming from Earth. Which makes sense. Humanity wrote the book on industrialized self-destruction.” I gave a humorless smile. “But I don’t think the weapons are the actual goal.”

I leaned back slightly in my chair. “Gods don’t fight like armies. You can’t invade a demesne with rifles and expect that to solve the problem. If the gods wanted to hide, most of those weapons would be completely useless against them.”

My fingers drummed slowly against the table. “Those guns are meant for people.”

Realization slowly spread across several faces.

“So part of the Covenant’s plan is war.”

“Whom against?” Elise asked quietly.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s civil war.” I shook my head. “Maybe they expect resistance to whatever changes they’re planning and intend to topple governments afterward.” I shrugged faintly. “Or maybe they’re targeting specific nations. Specific leaders.”

I frowned. “But there’s something bigger going on underneath all of it.”

I looked toward Thae and Elise before continuing.

“Earth doesn’t naturally have mana. According to Myrrakai, that means it effectively doesn’t have Faith either. Or at least only trace amounts.”

I rubbed slowly at my jaw. “But I absorbed enough ambient mana there to start a cycle. Mana into Faith. Faith back into mana.” I looked back around the room. “And the Covenant has already moved billions of thaums worth of weak glow rocks to Earth.”

A knot tightened in my stomach. “If their goal is to trigger another cycle…” I shook my head slowly. “Or millions of them simultaneously…”

I let the thought trail off because I genuinely didn’t know what the consequences would look like.

“New gods,” Elise said quietly.

Everyone looked toward her.

“They’re trying to create new gods,” she continued. “Or maybe they’re just trying to flood your world with magic. But it’s still going to generate massive amounts of Faith.” Her expression darkened. “Eight billion people worth overnight.”

My stomach dropped.

“Earth children train for war from an early age,” Clo said, her voice low. “And the people fear authority.”

“Not just authority,” I corrected quietly. “We fear everything.” I stared down at the ledgers spread across the table.

“We’re afraid of strangers. Different cultures. Disease. Poverty. Governments. Violence. Each other… Ourselves.” I let out a slow breath. “And humans have a bad habit of attacking what they fear.”

“That’s not going to create a god of love or joy,” Mirri said grimly.

“No,” I agreed softly. A cold weight settled in my chest as the implications finally crystallized fully in my own mind.

“It’s going to create a god of destruction.”

* * *

“So where does that leave us?” Ashlara asked. “What do we actually do about it?”

I dragged my hands down my face slowly. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “We still don’t know exactly what they’re building. Or where.”

“She can lead us there,” Vel said quietly, her eyes settling on Naevira.

“No.” The word came out sharper than I intended. “She doesn’t want to go,” I said more evenly. “And I’m not forcing her.”

“You would sacrifice two worlds for one person?” Thae asked. Her voice remained calm and analytical, though there was the faintest trace of judgment beneath it. Not cruelty. Just brutal logic.

“No.” I met her gaze directly. “But there has to be another way.”

I pointed toward Naevira. “If she goes, she’s in danger.” My jaw tightened. “We’ll find another gallowborn. Or more saplings. We’ll figure out how to track them somehow. Or we keep climbing the chain until we find this Shepherd and force answers out of him.”

“You think there’s time for that?” Thae asked quietly.

Something inside me snapped. “Fuck, Thae, I don’t know!” I barked. “I’m trying to do my best here.”

Silence slammed into the room.

Deep down, I knew she was right. That was the worst part. But there were lines I refused to cross, no matter how practical they seemed.

“I’m trying to protect everyone,” I said more quietly, though the anger still simmered beneath every word. “And I’m not making compromises. I’m not sacrificing any of you.” I looked around the table slowly. “I. Will. Not.”

Mirri rested her hand gently on my leg. “So what do we do?” she asked softly.

I exhaled hard through my nose. “I don’t know.” I rubbed tiredly at my eyes. “Maybe Erin knows something. Maybe Jenkins and Donnelly found a clue. They’ve had those ledgers for a while now.”

“Alright,” Mirri said calmly. “Then we go back to Earth, follow every lead we have, and see where it takes us.”

“I’ll go.” Naevira’s voice was so quiet I almost missed it.

I turned toward her immediately. “No,” I said firmly. “You don’t have to do that.” I shook my head. “You were terrified out there. We’ll find another way.”

“There’s no time,” she whispered. Her fingers twisted together tightly in her lap.

“I can feel it.” Her voice trembled faintly. “Whatever it is… that thing in the back of my mind…” She swallowed hard. “It’s still there.”

The tiny vines beneath her skin rippled uneasily. “And it won’t let go.” Her eyes lowered. “I can barely think about anything else anymore.”

Then she reached out and grabbed my hand. “I’m afraid that soon I won’t be able to ignore it,” she admitted shakily. “That I’m going to remember what it is.” Her grip tightened slightly. “And when I do…”

She looked up at me with terrified determination. “I think I’ll go to it. Even if I don’t want to.”

The room had gone completely silent now.

“At least this way,” she continued softly, “I still get to choose.” Her voice cracked faintly. “And if my sacrifice saves the world…” She hesitated. “Two worlds…”

She squeezed my hand harder. “Then I’m willing to make it.”

My chest tightened painfully. “I told you,” I said quietly, “we are not sacrificing anyone.”

I ran a hand slowly down my face before looking back at her. ““If you’re truly willing to go…” I sighed heavily. “We’ll go”

I held her gaze, letting every ounce of certainty I possessed settle into my expression. “But we’re all coming back alive.” Then I looked around the table at everyone else.

“No exceptions.”

* * *

It was midnight, and once again I sat alone in the bailey with my back against the cold stone wall, staring up at the stars.

Tomorrow we were leaving.

Back to Earth. Or wherever the Weeping Gallows decided to take us. I still wasn’t entirely convinced it would lead to Earth at all, considering the tree on the other side had been destroyed. But the Gallows here reacted to Naevira. That had to mean a connection still existed somehow. If it were truly broken, I didn’t think the tree would respond at all.

At least, that was the hope.

I knew I should’ve been in bed with my women. I knew I should’ve been spending every spare moment with them while I still could. They wanted that. Needed it. Hell, I needed it.

But I couldn’t help it. There was a weight in my chest I couldn’t shake. A deep, sinking certainty that something terrible was coming. Something I was supposed to stop. Something that might be bigger than me.

So instead I sat beneath the stars searching for answers that refused to come.

Movement at the edge of my vision pulled me from my thoughts. Fabric fluttered briefly before disappearing behind the corner of my workshop. Then a head slowly peeked around the edge.

A human head peaked out - soft, feminine.

Chestnut hair fell around her face in soft waves. Her complexion carried a warm olive tone made beautiful as much by its tiny imperfections as its symmetry. Freckles dusted her nose and cheeks. Her lips were thin, her cupid’s bow barely defined at all, and her wide honey-brown eyes held a nervous vulnerability that made her look younger than she probably was.

She stepped hesitantly into view -

When our eyes met, she stepped fully around the corner and approached slowly.

She was naturally beautiful in an understated way - modest breasts, slightly fuller hips, a waist with just enough curve to soften her silhouette.

Her dress was simple and homemade from coarse brown fabric. One sleeve hung slightly longer than the other. The hem was uneven near the ankle.

She couldn’t have been older than nineteen.

There was fear in the way she moved. Determination too. Like she was forcing herself forward through sheer willpower.

“Can I help you?” I asked as I rose to my feet.

The sound of my voice froze her in place. Her breath caught sharply and she swallowed hard before forcing herself to move again.

“I do not understand humans naturally,” she said.

Her voice trembled faintly, though it was soft and undeniably feminine. “I have studied them for years,” she continued. Then quieter: “Studied… you for years.”

My brow furrowed. I didn’t recognize her. Yet she clearly knew me.

“You smile differently when you are sad than when you are happy,” she said carefully. “You touch people differently depending on what they need. You often say one thing while meaning another.” She hesitated. “Your species is extremely confusing.”

I opened my mouth to respond, then stopped. Something about the way she spoke tugged at me. Something familiar.

But I didn’t even recognize her Faith. Smoky gray flowed around her like stones resting beneath shallow river water - calm, heavy, ancient. But threaded through it were veins of rose quartz pink that pulsed brighter and spread wider the closer she came to me.

“At first I believed affection was instinct,” she continued. “Then I believed it was biological imperative. Then social conditioning.”

Her eyes had become glassy with tears. “But none of those explanations were sufficient.”

She hesitantly moved closer. “I think about you constantly.”

Now the words started coming faster, like she was afraid she’d lose the courage to continue if she stopped. “When you are injured, I become distressed. When you praise me, I replay the memory repeatedly. When you are gone, I look for you.” Her cheeks flushed faintly. “When other women touch you, I experience irrational hostility.”

She looked mortified admitting that. “I attempted to determine whether this was possessiveness,” she said quickly. “It is not.”

Her hands fidgeted nervously at the sleeve of her dress. “I do not merely want you alive.” Her voice softened almost to a whisper. “I want you happy.”

The rose in her Faith bloomed brighter. “And I want…” She swallowed hard. “...to be part of the things that make you happy.”

A single tear slipped down her cheek. “I think humans call this love.”

My breath caught in my throat. “I-Iolite?”

She had changed so much. She wasn’t a shifting pile of rocks awkwardly mimicking humanity. She wasn’t a rough mannequin carved from stone anymore. She looked alive. Warm. Fragile. She blushed. She cried.

Even her Faith had changed.

Once it had been almost entirely smoky gray - balance, detachment, patience. Now the rose spreading through it was impossible to ignore. Tender. Vulnerable. Human.

I hardly recognized it. Hardly recognized her.

And yet the tug at my Faith remained exactly the same. That threat that bound us together. The same thread that bound my family together. That silver tendril that connected us.

She nodded silently.

Had I done this? Had my Faith changed her so fundamentally that she was no longer truly elemental?

Fear twisted through me. Concern. Curiosity. Guilt. Wonder. And beneath all of it, something pulling quietly at my heart that I only partially understood myself.

I stepped forward and wrapped her in my arms.

She froze for half a heartbeat before clutching at me desperately.

I stroked her hair gently. “Yeah,” I whispered. “I think that’s love too.”

And then she started crying in earnest, her shoulders shaking as she held onto me like she was afraid I might disappear.