Page 17 of The Ruin of Gods


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“Son of a bitch,” I whisper and glance at Carrick. He merely shrugs. “Aren’t you pissed? That’s Finley’s sister, and she didn’t even stand up for your brother.”

“The Council was never going to do it, anyway,” he says in a low voice.

“What makes you think that?”

“Because they would have already done it by now.”

I grudgingly admit that actually crossed my mind when I decided to appeal to them. I figured they had some insider reasoning for not doing it which I know they’d never share with us.

“May I ask why not?” I call out, the longest shot by far.

Veda turns her attention my way. “Lucien had his time, and now it’s ended. We have plenty of other demigods to fill his shoes. He is not needed.”

I can tell this saddens Zora by the downward trend of her mouth, but I’m not surprised by Veda’s harsh words. The gods don’t care about any of us personally. At least not in my opinion.

“Who else has something to bring forward?” Veda calls out, effectively ending my inquiry.

A demigod steps forward, a fairly new one named Anton—I believe he’s only been around a few hundred years. He gives a slight bow of deference to the gods. “I have news from Calandria.”

Veda steps closer, her expression worried. “Tell us.”

Anton makes a circular motion in the air before him, and a large portal opens up so everyone can look through at what I’m guessing is an alternate dimension.

“It’s beyond destitute,” Anton says gravely. “Maybe a few more years of life, but the inhabitants are dying off quickly due to starvation. They are not procreating because they’re not healthy enough. Food and water resources are almost gone, and they refuse my help.”

The desertlike world we’re viewing is not much more than large hills of sand. There’s a small pond, more like a mud hole, where people are gathering the filthy water into jugs. Everyone is emaciated, and the children cry from hunger.

The picture changes to a dim cave where men dressed in rags kneel before a stone altar littered with bones and bowls of what look to be blood. They chant in a language I don’t recognize.

“It’s a lost cause,” Circe says in disgust. “Stupid people. Burn it to the ground and put them out of their misery.”

“Wait!” Zora exclaims, turning to Circe. “What does that mean? Who are these people, and why is this happening to them?”

Veda turns to Zora. “Calandria is a dimension formed by priests long ago using stone magic, except they didn’t do a very good job providing resources. And rather than evolve, they just kept praying to the gods and making sacrifices, believing the tide would turn in their favor. We’ve sent demigods to teach them ways to flourish, but they won’t listen. They’re too mired in their own religion to believe there’s any other way.”

“So you’re going to destroy them?” Zora asks, her fingers interlaced so tight, her knuckles are white. I can hear the distress in her voice and I curl my hands into fists. My inclination is to go to her, take her in my arms, but she’d probably turn me into a toad.

“It’s what we do,” Circe says, not unkindly but so matter-of-factly that Zora blanches. “It’s a kindness to end it now. There’s no saving them, and they’ll only suffer worse. You’ve voted in favor of just such an extinction before.”

“Yes, I know but we’re gods,” Zora says, turning to appeal to Veda—she’s the one with the softest heart. “We can do whatever we like. We have the power to help them. If they can’t do it for themselves, then put them in another dimension so they can at least survive.”

“That knocks things out of balance,” Cato says. “Some worlds are meant to survive. Others are not.”

“There’s always give and take. One realm flourishes while another dies.”

Zora looks back at the window showing the pathetic dimension and points at it. “There are children. You can’t mean to kill them.”

“They’re going to die, anyway,” Veda says. “Probably in a very slow, painful manner.”

“I’ll purge the land with a firestorm,” Cato announces. “All in favor?”

“No, wait,” Zora says, stepping toward Cato but then halting. She looks to the women. “Please, don’t.”

“All in favor,” Cato says again.

Circe doesn’t hesitate. “Aye. A firestorm.”

Onyx nods. “Aye.”

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