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Luc’s throat closed, but he refused to let the tears grab hold. He understood that he was as flawed as anyone else, but he could choose to do what was right, with the right intentions. Sometimes the choices were easy, and sometimes they were impossible, like now.
He looked down at his brother. “I’ll do everything in my power to serve.” He thought of Brinna. “To be a bridge.” His heart twisted, missing her, needing her. He looked up at his father, who nodded and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“That is why it was always you.”
Before Luc could reply, Lexa returned.
Luc got to his feet beside his father as she appeared, carting with her a terrified Oracle. “See,” Lexa said with impatience. “I told you–”
The monk’s frightened gaze took in his surroundings as he straightened, his keys clanging and jangling. His green robe sat haphazardly on his shoulders as if he’d been in the midst of putting it on. Though he was short, his face was long, making him appear taller somehow. That, and his long, prominent nose gave him a narrow countenance. “This isn’t the Netherrealm?”
“I told you it wasn’t the fucking Netherrealm,” Lexa snapped. She growled to punctuate her frustration.
The monk dipped his head. “Almighty, Ur. Forgive me.”
“We need your help,” he said. “My son–”
The monk rested his gaze to Nix, then straightened. “The god of night and darkness?”
“He’s god-yoked,” Luc said.
The monk’s eyes widened. “The fading? My brothers and sisters had said he’d come to learn about it. I have never seen it–”
“We need anoblitorium,” Luc interrupted. “To sever his memories of the yoke–”
“What?” the monk breathed. “I know Prudence suggested it, but this,” he paused. “This is magic we use in extreme cases–”
Lexa grabbed the monk’s head and forcibly swiveled it to look at Nix. “Is this not extreme?”
The monk swallowed.
“Lexa,” Luc said, nudging her out of the way. She was never rational when it came to Nix.
“We use it for gods who’ve lost their way, gods who can’t control their power, those that need reformation. We’ve never used it this way,” the monk explained. “It would rend him, and he would have to begin again.”
“I was thinking,” Luc said, his mind on Cumbria and the way the soul had been split into four parts, “maybe we could just temporarily sever the memories pertaining to the yoke.” He looked at his father and sister, then at the monk.
“Temporarily?” The monk asked, sounding doubtful. How?”
“Lock them away instead of sever them.”
“It’s never been done. Anoblitoriumwas designed to take them all.”
“What would we need?” Luc asked. “To do it my way?”
The monk’s eyes jumped to Ur.
Ur took a deep breath. “I defer to my son and sanction what is to be done.”
The monk looked back at Luc. “Perhaps, with your combined godlights. We need someone who knows his memories.”
Luc nodded.
“But–” the monk said.
“You are not responsible, Oracle,” Luc said, “if this doesn’t work. I will take the responsibility.”
The room grew heavy with understanding. Regardless of the outcome, they all understood that something would be lost.
