When he summoned his Agni, the pain was the first warning. It would begin with his sword arm. A chill would creep through his fingers, then up his elbow, across his shoulders. If he was not careful, it would spread. Down his chest, toward his navel chakra. Cold, and the nothingness it brought, would slowly surround his Agni and choke it out, like a flame gradually deprived of air. In time, he would fade.
To where? Men had the ability to be reborn, to live infinite lives. But he was a god. He did not know where the graveyard of his kind was kept.
“You have to seriously consider the Sona operation,” Chandi said, bringing him back. “The Eternal Fire may sustain you now, but what if you summon too much, or you’re too far away? What then, Samson? How will we be able to save you then?”
He turned to her, surprised by the anger in her voice.
“You can’t put it off,” she said. “It endangers not only you, but everyone. We should take Elena and—”
“I told you before, Elena is of Agni.” He stood, buttoning his shirt. “And hers is deep and powerful. Maybe I can learn how she sustains it. Maybe she has the answer.”
“But—”
“Enough, Chandi, please.” Though a part of him knew Chandi spoke with reason, it annoyed him to hear Elena attacked, and he did not fully understand why. “We haven’t exhausted all our options yet. If there is no other way, then we will go to Sona, and I’ll tap into Elena’s Agni.”
“Then learn from her soon. And quickly.” Chandi nodded to the scar on his chest. “It’s fading.”
He looked down. Indeed, the scar had washed out to a ruddy red.
“See?” He rapped his chest. “Good as new.”
Chandi rolled her eyes. “Inconsiderate prick. You didn’t even thank me.”
“Thank you, Chandi the Great, Chandi the Marvelous, Chandi the Killer Who Can Gut Out Jantaris in the Dark—” He finished buttoning up his shirt and shrugged on his jacket. “Is that adequate, or should I go on?”
She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Continue.”
“Chandi the Savior, Chandi the Brave, Chandi the Hero We Don’t Deserve but Who Saves Us Without Complaint.” He paused, catching her eyes. “Chandi the Flirt Who Has Women Running in Circles Simply Because She Can’t Settle Down—”
“Okay, okay.” Chandi stood, her cheeks coloring. “You ruined it.”
She pushed past him, muttering obscenities as he grinned. They left his chambers, bickering, and went out into the bright sun of Magar and the warm roar of the festivities. Songs floated up the street. Somewhere, around the corner, he heard drunken laughter. A soldier offered him whiskey. Samson took a swig, then another, making Chandi scowl, but even as she reached for a drink, even as laughter rolled through them both at her sudden grimace, Samson could not shake off the ghostlike hand of remembered pain. It lingered, like the gritty salt of the sea after a swim. A reminder of his nature, and the curse that came with it.
CHAPTER 7
ELENA
The ancient gods of Sayon oddly have more similarities than disparities. Take, for instance, the Great Serpent and the Phoenix. Both goddesses of fire, both ruthless to the core. Is it possible, then, that they stemmed from the same protomyth?
—fromA Critique of the Ancient Gods(note: debunked by historians)
Elena listened to the crackle of the Eternal Fire and felt as if each pop, each spark, was a hot finger stabbing her stomach. The inferno burned freely, flames swollen and fat. It lazily tumbled past the pit, feeding on the ruins of the temple, but Samson had created a perimeter, and now, rather than being restrained by the altar created by her ancestors, the Eternal Fire was stayed by a god.
Samson stood beside her, slightly swaying. His eyes were closed, his head bent, as if he was listening to a sweet song rather than a savage hiss. Gone were the lines on his forehead, the bags beneath his eyes. Blue flames spiraled down his arms, so close she could hear their soft murmurs,so close that if she were not of Agni herself, the skin on her elbows would peel.
Elena shifted, not because of Samson, but because of the jittery energy building within her. Since the coronation, the Eternal Fire had regarded her differently. It called to her. She could feel it vibrate through the stones, up her legs, to the top of her head. She felt thevastnessof its strength—deep, ancient, powerful. In a small, secret part of herself, half-crazed, half-formed, she desired its potency. Like a predator put before a fresh kill, she wanted tofeast. To wield the flames and tear through the Jantari, eating, biting.
Come, the inferno chanted.
“Do you hear that?” he asked. His voice was buoyant. “They’re pleased with our presence.”
Elena nearly closed her eyes, overwhelmed. But then she caught sight of the ruins around them. She remembered her father’s terrible scream as he tumbled into the inferno. Once, this place had held the promise of power for her. Now it was a memorial of all that she had lost.
“I don’t,” she lied.
“The Great Serpent blesses us, Elena. Shewantsus to win this war, and She will help us.” He finally opened his eyes. “And She knows of you. Your Phoenix may be a lie, but the Great Serpent has not forgotten you.”
“Touching,” she replied.
