“What are you laughing at now, brother?” my sister called from her position a few steps ahead of me. Her voice was always melodic, like the sound a chime makes as wind blows it about. But there was a hard edge now that I’d never heard before.
Our imprisonment in Meru and more recent escape took a toll on her, it seemed.
“Nothing important,” I rumbled as I lengthened my strides so I could walk next to her. “Though the state of this . . .campis near laughable.”
She hummed quietly in response, which was neither a confirmation nor a denial of my observation.
The campwaspitiful.
We walked down, what I assumed, was the main thoroughfare. Semi-permanent tents and huts were erected on either side, made of animal skins, sticks, and mud; essentially,whatever the rebels could easily get their hands on out here. Which, admittedly, didn’t look like much. Some of the tents were larger than others, with wood signs out front indicating their purpose.
There was more than one community hall, which, based on the smells wafting from the holes in the roof, was for cooking and eating. There was a trading station with various wares hanging out front, and a blacksmith’s shop next door.
A tannery was nestled between a tea shop and a bar across the street to our right.
They really created this to be a permanent town rather than a movable camp.
As we walked, the main road branched into smaller streets, which branched into narrow paths, each lined with variably sized tents. I quickly realized that those areas were the residential zones of the camp. Further south from the camp were the animals—both the livestock for work and food, and the horses that were used when the Last Keeper sent her army on missions.
The whole setup wasn’tnice, per se, but it was at least functional. Though I distinctly hoped that my sister wasn’t planning on staying here.
It was too fucking hot, for one—the sun was relentless and there were no clouds in sight—and I really couldn’t stand the feeling of sand when it got trapped under my clothes against my skin. Something about the gritty texture and the inability to remove it set my teeth on edge. Not to mention that a tent—small, dark, hot, and undoubtedly smelly—was not really a place that I wanted to live.
After centuries stuck in the impossibly small, dark cave on Meru, I wanted to return to the finer things humanity had to offer.
Like a large feather bed with silk sheets.
And more than willing women.
I wouldn’t say “no” to a decent whiskey and multi-course meal, either.
As a god, I didn’t necessarilyneedthose things—obviously, as a living being, I still needed to eat and sleep like humans, but I did it much less—but there was definitely something about the comforts humans created. They lived unfortunately short lives, but they certainly knew how to live them well.
“How much longer?” I grumbled low to my sister as we passed another group of rebels who threw themselves down on the ground, prostrating in deference.
“She’s at the end,” Solace said, barely loud enough for me to hear.
Our progression through the center of the camp was met with little resistance or fanfare. Normal sounds of life seemed to dull and evaporate completely as we approached before the telltale buzz of conversation filtered through once we’d passed. Most of the humans stared in wide-eyed shock—either not fully believing we were real, or completely overwhelmed by our presence.
I supposed our visages could also have influenced their open-mouthed gapes.
Apart from height, my sister and I were a complete dichotomy. Where she was willowy and thin, I was stocky and large.
Solace was pure white ethereal beauty that bordered on terrifying. Her skin was so pale it was nearly translucent, with pure snow-white hair that fell straight to her waist. Even the pupils and irises of her eyes were white. It was disconcerting at times to gaze into those monochrome orbs.
In contrast, I was all black. My skin was the darkest ebony I’d ever seen, and my night-black hair was twisted into intricatebraids atop my head. Where Solace’s eyes were completely white, mine were fully black.
My leather armor—black, of course—creaked as I walked, my boots crunching the sand beneath my feet. The sounds of my movement were loud in the quiet that surrounded the camp and the near noiselessness that accompanied Solace’s graceful movements. I was always in awe of her ability to look like she was floating across the ground, her nearly translucent white dress billowing behind her in an unseen wind.
Her appearance was terrifying—her singular focus and thirst for retribution were even more so.
At long last, we reached a hut at the very end of the road. It was small, smaller than many of the other dwellings I’d seen during our trek, and there were no windows to speak of. Just a flap of dark leather that separated the interior from the outside elements.
“This is it?” I asked, disbelief lacing my tone. For an all-powerful last descendant of Solace, this seemed too austere, too simple.
At least my descendant lives in a palace, I thought. I had many other issues with my descendant at the moment, but his taste for the finer things in life was not one of them.
“It is. She is in there,” Solace said, gesturing to the door.
