Goddess by Liv Savell (autobiographies to read txt) 📕

away from Enyo, had to stop her from destroying Alphonse completely, and blinded by that need, she had flown hours ahead when she left the others to scout. She had just wanted a glimpse of the city, a means to measure how far they needed to go until they could disappear into the throng of people within. Maybe there would even be someone who could destroy the artifact or free Etienne from Enyo’s binding.

The flying, though, had cleared her head. Seeing Caerthleon would not put them any closer to it, and letting herself get so distant from Etienne and Meirin with Enyo after the artifact was madness. Delyth shook herself and wheeled in a great arc, turning back to the others. If she pushed herself to the edge of her speed, she ought to make it back to them in an hour and a half or so. Gods, let them still be alright.

Delyth angled her wings to gain speed, only to be flung earthward by a surge of wind coming down directly upon her. She tumbled, ground and sky flying past her vision in a dizzying rush. The feeling of spinning didn’t leave her even when she got her wings open again, pumping for altitude. What the hell had that been? Wind didn’t suddenly turn towards the ground, not even in the wildest storms. She cast about, looking for some answer, only for the blast to come again. Her wings were forced behind her, muscles tearing, and again she fell. Had Enyo somehow caught up with her? Had she passed the others? Or were they already dead? Delyth struggled against the sky, the cords in her neck and shoulders bunching with effort. She couldn’t let herself get taken, not when there was still a chance to get to the others, to save Alphonse. She drew strength from that desperation, the need to find a way to free her little bird.

And then, the sky forced her down again. She could see the ground now, pockmarked with craters that spoke of Mascen’s work. Mascen. Not Enyo. He stood at the edge of a pool of lava, his black eyes shadowed by its shuddering mass. His gaze was unwavering, and even from this distance, Delyth could see the flash of his teeth. She would have to land or risk being dashed into his burning mess, despite every likelihood that he only meant to kill her.

Delyth noticed the heat first. It reached up to cloak her chest, her limbs even as she glided to earth, a sweaty embrace from too many hands. The boiling rock was too-bright, and all the world smelled of sulfur. She landed hard, knees nearly buckling. Mascen’s eyes never left her.

“Cousin,” he said, his tone bordering on respectful. Behind him, pockets of melted ore heaved upwards, exploded, relaxed. Like a breathing creature, a living thing. “Enjoying my handy work?” 

Delyth refolded her wings uneasily, noting the soreness, the heat in her muscles. Sweat gathered across her forehead, and her breath was only slowly returning to normal. She would stiffen soon, and then getting back into the air would be uncomfortable—even difficult, and she still had miles to go to reach the others. How dare this creature keep her from them, tear her from the sky as though she belonged to him? Anger made her into an animal, but she would need to stay cunning to escape.

Delyth sucked in too-hot air in an attempt to control herself, keeping her expression blank. She might burn herself to ash before a hint of her fire made any mark on this creature, but it was still only the greatest use of willpower that kept her from trying.

Will power and… fear. She had seen Mascen injure Enyo, seen first hand the destruction he could cause. The scars on the land around them were almost too horrific, too large to understand.

Delyth was afraid of Mascen, and somehow, the knowledge made her blood boil as though it were lava, oozing up from depths below the surface of the earth, eating away at the edges of the world.

Still, her voice did not tremble when she spoke. “Mascen.”

He watched the warrior with a keen interest but made no move to come closer. “Why is it that you were foolish enough to fight my mother? I’ll admit you’re a fine specimen—” His tone was bland, not lecherous. “But she could rip your throat out and drink from your veins. Even as limited as she is now.”

“Why do you want to know?” Mascen’s apparent interest put Delyth immediately on the defensive. Whatever did he want with her? She was not a God or a supplicant, and she would have nothing to do with him at all if not for his coming upon Enyo.

Delyth’s only quarrel was with Enyo, and she would just as soon be done with the Goddess as well once she had Alphonse back. If only that were possible.

“I’m not in the habit of explaining myself to humans, even ones as superior as yourself.” Mascen made no move to come closer and instead resumed studying the lava he had summoned.

He was considerably less overtly hostile, less volatile than his mother. His tone, while haughty, was reasonable. He stood utterly still, arms at his side. He made no threatening gesture nor tried to make himself seem intimidating.

And still, Delyth didn’t trust him.

What did she possibly have to gain from telling him about Alphonse? About the girl she was willing to face down Gods for? Enyo regularly used Delyth’s love of the little healer as a weapon. Was she supposed to just assume that her son wouldn’t do so as well? No. She wouldn’t do it. Not when the admission might put herself and her mission to free Alphonse in danger.

And, yet, she had to answer him. He could stop her from leaving with a thought, so long as he wanted something from her. So she would have to find something else to say.

Something that might just turn this meeting in her