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The Eight Gods

Ixchel

God of the underworld, death and hell. Oversees all death.

Qamar

God of luck and secrets.

Arash

God of the sun, of light.

Khorash

Goddess of health.

Lunaria

Goddess of love, fertility and familial connections.

Selendris

Goddess of animals, creatures and all living beings, and weather.

Noctaris

Goddess of the moon, of darkness.

Amaterasu

God of magic. Leader of all gods.

Chapter

One

Tomorrow is Lumina Day and if I don’t get the map first, my brother is going to die. I rip off the flyer from the side of our hut and glance at it in the winter sun as chunky snowflakes tumble onto the paper. The king’s royal crest marks the top of the blue paper in shining silver, and under is information on Lumina, along with warnings to those who are planning to try to sneak in. For many of the king’s subjects who can’t read, symbols of death and danger make clear what is spelled out. “Death awaits the uninvited” is in capital letters across the top under the king’s crest, and under that, it states⁠—

“Once every five hundred years, a mortal gets the chance to request a single wish from the gods. A map will appear in the royal court when the clock strikes nine in the morning on the tenth day of the eleventh month of this year. The person who receives the map will be set on a fate-marked path from the gods, and if you succeed in their Lumina trials, you will earn a single wish from a god or gods. Only the invited are welcome to the courtyard. Signed, Your King.”

I roll my eyes, pocketing the paper, and take two steps to my front door as people pass by me on the wooden walkway. The waves of the icy sea move along under the walkway, up and down, as I pause. My weathered house is covered in thick snow, threatening to push the roof down, and icicles are hanging from the triangle arch above the door. The scraps of food I have in my bag aren’t going to make someone in there smile, even if I nearly lost an arm to a dog to steal it before the sun rose. I’m not sure I’ve seen my brother really smile since our parents died.

The cold, brittle wind reminds me that I can stand outside the door for as long as I want, but it won’t make a difference. My brother will still be sick and I will still not have the gold needed to buy him healers, potions or promises of a future where he lives past his teenage years. I can’t steal the kind of help he needs.

Grabbing the creaky handle, I open it and step in, only to pause and look back. The towering castle in all its silver glory throws its shadows over the outskirts of the island, the beaches, and the housing for us, the unfortunate. The poor. The mortals whose lives begin and end in the stilt houses we call home. The eight villages on stilt walkways house most of the population of the capital, and the rest? Well, they live around the castle in fancy stone-built houses and go to court with the king while they eat, fuck and do whatever they want. They don’t worry about their only family dying from an incurable disease. They don’t steal scraps of food to survive.

Shaking my head, I dip into my home and am relieved to find it is still warm, even though the fire has only embers sparking to life in it now. Fire and health are the currency of the Stilts, and all of my coin goes towards those two things, which doesn’t leave much left for food. My stomach is grumbling before I’ve shut the door, pushing the draft blockers into place. “You snuck out early, Miry. Where did you go?”

“A last-minute job came up.” I make sure to smile at my little brother, even if the sight of the weak eight-year-old tears my heart open. I gulp down the thick emotions threatening to make me cry and hurry over to his bed. It’s the same bed both he and I were born in, and I remember his birth like it was yesterday. It was the last time I felt hope and joy in this house. A screaming bundle of dark hair, just like mine, but he wasn’t like me. My mother and father knew Rowe was sick when he turned two. They died only a year later. “I got us some meat and cheese for today’s meal.”

I hand him three quarters of what I stole, and he hurriedly eats as I nibble on what’s left, trying to make it last. He’s finished eating by the time I take my boots off and get into the warm bed, hiding under the sheets like I can stay here as long as I want. “Can’t stay long, Rowe, I’ve got to get to work. I’ll be back before the sun sets though, I promise.” I don’t ever break my promises. My mother used to say a promise is all the magic we mortals have left now and we should honor them. They aren’t just words, they are vows from our souls.

He cuddles up to me. “Can we go out tomorrow, Miry?”

“Yes.” The cold isn’t good for him. We both know that, but I will never force him to stay locked up in here forever. He deserves to see the world, to find friends…all the things that have been stolen from him. It is cold this time of year, but if I wrap him up, he might stay warm. “We can go for a short walk tomorrow morning and see the sun rise. It’s your favorite time of day, right?”

Tomorrow, everything changes and he doesn’t know it yet. I can tell him my plan, well, some of it, tomorrow. I’ve been putting it off for too long. He nods and grins at me. He is missing a tooth right in the middle. “Talking of which”—I kiss his forehead, and he’s clammy—“I have to go. Make sure you take your medicine, okay? I’ll be back. Love you.”