CONTENT WARNING: This story contains heavy reference to relational manipulation, emotional abuse, and graphic violence reminiscent of domestic abuse. I have done my best to address these topics with the sensitivity and care due to them, though I recognize they may be triggering for some. If these topics are difficult for you to read, you might want to skip this one. This is also a horror story with no happy ending, please continue with caution. Rated 16+ for violence, dark themes, and non-explicit sexual reference.
Cecily storms out of House Narat, shoving the last of her schematics into her satchel with the kind of fury that only comes from a woman scorned not once, but twice.
“Absurd ideas, they say?” she mutters under her breath. “I’ll show them absurd…”
The young woman hurries down the steps, her feet almost as fast as her mind, but blessedly faster than her hands. It’s the only thing that keeps her from whipping around and flipping the bird at the Moon Level nobility. But Cecily pauses at the bottom of the last step and takes a final look at the headquarters of House Narat. They call themselves the clockwork of Auroris, the very heart of invention and progress. All the most brilliant minds flock to them, begging for a chance to find their names listed among the greats: Luther Keating and his elevator, Leta Hale and her pneumatics, or most recently Oren Shea and his electric lights. Cecily Vear would see her name written in the history books too, though it seems House Narat doesn’t share her vision. She scowls at the building. Much like its people, it hides small minds behind a grand exterior.
Some people aren’t ready for certain truths, Cecily reminds herself. After all, one man’s genius can often be another man’s madness.
She holds onto that thought as she leaves House Narat behind, her shadow following closely at her heels, wavering and flickering beneath the crackling, blue light of Shea’s electric street lamps.
Perhaps I ought to find myself another madman, then, Cecily thinks, her mouth quirking into a wry smile despite herself.
But she’s a scientist. She knows better than to rely on wishful thinking. If she wants something, she has to grab it by the throat for herself. At least, that’s what experience tells her.
“I’m leaving Auroris.”
Cecily stares dumbstruck at Simon, unable to process his words. His eyes flick away from hers anxiously, and Cecily thinks for a moment that perhaps she misheard him. But without looking at her, he continues:
“You… Can come with me if you want.”
Cecily blinks.
“What… What do you mean you’re leaving?” she says slowly.
Simon still won’t look at her. Instead, his eyes sweep over the table, covered in books and papers, half-drawn ideas and scrawled sigils, interspersed with untouched meals. He lifts up a plate and a fly buzzes away. He examines the white fuzz encroaching on what was once food. And half their paycheck.
“I can’t do this anymore, Cecily,” Simon says softly.
Cecily stares at him numbly.
“You’re leaving me. Six years, and you’re leaving me,” she says.
Simon drops the plate, letting the rotten food slop off onto some of Cecily’s research. She instinctively moves to salvage her papers from the mess, but Simon turns away, ignoring it.
“I’m not leaving you, Cecily, I’m leaving this,” he says, gesturing to the rest of their apartment. It doesn’t look much better than the table.
Cecily scrapes the rotten food off her papers and back onto the plate, frantically scanning over them to see if it was anything important. She sighs in relief when she realizes they were old notes. Long-outdated by her newer research. Simon watches her.
“Come with me,” he says.
It doesn’t sound like an invitation to Cecily. It sounds like a demand. An ultimatum. Or a plea.
Cecily slowly lowers the papers and meets Simon’s eyes.
“You told me you believed in me, Simon,” she says.
His brow furrows.
“It’s been six years,” he says.
Cecily’s hand clenches into a fist, the sodden papers crumpling in her grip.
“You promised me. You said ‘as long as it takes-’”
Simon’s jaw clenches.
“That was before I knew you were-”
He trails off, unwilling to finish his sentence. Cecily looks at him coldly.
“Before you knew I was crazy? Is that what you wanted to say?”
“Before I knew you were obsessed!” He bursts out. “I thought you cared about me, about building a life together, but for some reason it took me six years to realize that the only thing that matters to you is your… Your research. Your invention. Did you ever love me, or was I always just your assistant?”
Cecily feels angry tears pooling in the corners of her eyes, her face growing hot.
“Of course I love you, Simon. How could you even ask that?”
“Then come with me.”
Cecily looks at her feet, glued to the floor with two decades of dreams and the promise of unfulfilled greatness.
“I… Can’t.”
Simon hesitates then, but she can tell that he’s already made up his mind. Then he opens the door to their apartment and cool mist drifts inside, stirring the stale air. His voice is thick with emotion.
“Then… You can write to me if you ever change your mind. I love you, Cecily.”
He waits there for a moment with the door open, but Cecily says nothing. Then she hears the door close behind him.
The bed is cold that evening, and Cecily reaches her hand across to where Simon should be lying, longing to feel the warmth of his body pressed up against hers. She shouldn’t cry, but she does. As if her heart has been ripped from her chest and torn to ribbons, she cries. Maybe it’s grief. Maybe it’s rage. Maybe it will be gone by morning. But for now, the tears stay.
It’s been a long time since Cecily has set foot in the Temple of the Moon, but it had been calling to her since Simon had left. She finally answers the call, and she enters the sanctuary with a weary heart. She hadn’t even touched her research since that day. That was, what? Two weeks ago? She hopes that unburdening herself to Luna will perhaps light her creative spark again.
Cecily kneels down in one of the pews to pray. She feels like it helps.
In the midst of her prayers, her eyes drift to the few other people in the sanctuary, curiosity unsated, even in her lowest state. She watches one of the Moon Temple servants carefully light some of the candles that had blown out. They should install some of Shea’s lights in here, then they wouldn’t have to waste so much money on candle wax.
Then she moves on to the other parishioners. Three others have their heads bowed, deep in their own prayers. She looks behind herself to find one other person leaning against the far back wall close to the doors, examining the stained glass windows. He’s wearing an embroidered cloak, but the hood is down, revealing ebony skin and hair.
Aren’t you beautiful, Cecily thinks. That feels disrespectful in Luna’s temple, but it springs to her mind anyway. Well. She never claimed to be devout.
Then he suddenly looks back at her, and she’s embarrassed to be caught staring. She’s about to turn back to her prayers and pretend the awkward moment never happened, but she stops when she sees his eyes. Violet. She’s never seen eyes that color before. The man gives her a smile, then turns and slips out the door.
Cecily, prayers now forgotten, follows.
The mysterious man does Cecily the honor of waiting outside the temple for her, now drawing up his hood against the fine splattering of rain. Mist curls across the ground and shifts as Cecily approaches him, scattering before her feet.
Cecily looks at him curiously. She couldn’t say why, but for some reason she feels inexplicably drawn to this man. Something about him feels entirely otherworldly.
“Who are you?” she asks.
The beautiful stranger tilts his head to her, giving her a mischievous smile.
“You’re forward, aren’t you? I can appreciate that,” he says, looking her up and down. “You first, love.”
Cecily is momentarily enraptured by those deep, violet eyes. Then she extends a hand to him in greeting.
“Cecily Vear,” she says.
The stranger takes her hand in his own, but instead of shaking it, he gives it a kiss. It feels like the gentle caress of mist on the surface of water, and it sends tingles up her arm. He locks eyes with her with a smile.
“The pleasure’s all mine, Cecily.”
There are centuries of knowledge in those eyes, and Cecily feels the desire to plunge into their depths. This man holds the secrets of the universe within himself. She can’t help but grasp at them.
“You’re not human,” she observes.
“You’re a clever one.”
“Can I ask your name?” she says cautiously.
The stranger carefully releases her hand and smiles softly at her.
“Names have power, Cecily. Why should I give you that?”
“It’s only polite.”
He laughs.
“Then you’ll have to excuse my rudeness. What can I give you besides my name?”
That depends on who you are, Cecily thinks to herself.
She’d made it her life’s work to study gods and their magic, and how to combine it with the wonders of modern science. Some call what she does madness or heresy. Cecily calls it progress. While she’d never had the pleasure of meeting a god before this, his aura is unmistakable. God magic transcends the mortal plane in such a way as to manifest a physical form even without activation. According to some reports, it could be a warmth that radiates when you get close, or a certain scent that defies explanation. In the case of this man, Cecily can feel it in the way the mist curls around her feet, playful and mercurial.
“Should I make a request before I know who I’m dealing with?” Cecily asks.
The stranger gives her a sly glance.
“You would know me better first?” he asks.
“I would know what’s in your power to give.”
The mist gently weaves between her legs and wraps around her fingers, drawing her closer to the stranger. She abides by his request and steps before him. Humor dances in his eyes, and he reaches up a hand to trail along her cheek.
“I could give you the very ground at your feet, or the breath in your lungs. I could give you freedom from the chains that bind you to a mortal life…”
He tilts his head curiously, searching her eyes.
“Or perhaps you have loftier aspirations,” he adds, gesturing to one of the flickering, electric street lamps. “The stars, long forgotten behind greater lights. Would you be the one to unveil them once more?”
Cecily stares back at him, breathless.
“Tell me about the stars, Dark One” she says.
“That could be arranged,” he says with a grin.
Cecily blinks.
“And what would you ask of me in return?” she says.
“Only this,” he says, lightly tapping her temple. “Or whatever else you might deign to offer me,” he adds.
Cecily looks back at the beautiful stranger in confusion, not understanding what it is he wants. He seems to find it amusing.
“Your mind, Cecily. I’ve been observing you for some time. Suffice to say, I’ve taken an interest in your research, among other things.”
“Other things?”
The stranger thoughtfully examines his fingernails.
“I know you wake alone now,” he says. His eyes flick back to hers then. “I could change that.”
She can’t look away, captivated by everything he promises, and to ask so little in return besides what she already wants to give.
“Why would a god want me?” Cecily muses, half to herself.
He smiles, and for a moment his eyes glow a soft, purple light.
“Perhaps I see a kindred spirit. What do you say, star-bearer? Shall I tell you tales of night?”
She would be a fool to say no.
Cecily wakes to an arm draped across her chest and a body curled around her back. In her sleep-drunk mind, she almost believes it’s Simon, that the last two weeks never happened. That she has another chance to present her research to House Narat. That she can still salvage what’s left of her relationship with the only man she ever loved. Then she realizes that she doesn’t recognize who’s beside her.
Cecily sits up abruptly and looks at him. The Dark One withdraws and blinks at her slowly. Unlike her, he doesn’t seem to have been asleep, merely waiting for her to awake.
“No need to look so surprised, love,” he says dryly.
“I- I’m not…” Cecily trails off, still staring at the god. “I thought you were a dream,” she finishes quietly.
He gives her a sly smile, then wraps himself around her again, pulling her into his arms.
“Maybe I am,” he says, planting a kiss on her neck. “Do I feel like one?”
Cecily shivers at his touch.
“No,” she confirms.
“Then you have your answer, star-bearer.”
Simon’s gone now, she reminds herself. If he loved me, he would have stayed, supported my work. No sense dwelling on him in present company.
And so she pushes six years out of her mind, erasing him from her history as though he doesn’t define her.
“Why do you call me that? ‘Star-bearer?’” Cecily asks the stranger, slowly relaxing into him.
The Dark One croons thoughtfully, beginning to run his fingers through her hair.
“Beyond depictions in your history books, you’ve never seen stars before, have you, Cecily?”
“Of course not. No one’s seen the stars in 500 years.”
“And yet you strive for something you cannot see, pursue what should be unknowable. I have seen the stars. I would reach out and touch them, as you would. But they were taken from me before I could claim them, and so none of us have the pleasure of beholding them…”
He continues to stroke her hair, tangling his fingers in the strands.
“Like you, I too strive for something more,” he says. “I believe you are the key to that, love.”
Cecily turns then and examines his face, perfection reading in his smooth, dark skin. For a moment, his visage shifts, and tiny, white lights freckle across his cheeks. When she blinks, they’re gone again. She touches his face, searching for the stars she could have sworn she saw there. He takes her hand in his own and kisses her fingertips, his violet eyes looking back at her with a burning intensity. A wanting, but for who or what she doesn’t know.
“Bear the stars to me, you with the brilliant mind, and I’ll give you all you ever desired,” he says, his voice low and soft.
“And what is it you think I desire, Dark One?”
“What we all desire, star-bearer. To be known.”
“If being known is what you seek too, then tell me your name,” Cecily says.
It’s a bold request, particularly considering this is the second time she’s asked, but she just slept with a god. If there was ever a time for boldness it’s now. No one knows the gods personally anymore, all guesses she could have toward each one’s character is merely a compilation of collective memory from 500 years ago and common folklore. But some have a reputation for dishonesty. If that’s who she’s speaking with, she’d like to know so she can judge how much weight she should give his promises.
The god draws back at her request, eyes narrowed. She must have angered him. Cecily’s eyes widen, and for a moment she shrinks away, suddenly fearing what he could do to her.
If you want something, you grab it by the throat, a quiet voice reminds her.
She will not fear him. He needs her, he said it himself. If he intends to use her for his purposes, then she would do the same for herself. Cecily meets the god’s eyes levelly, not backing down.
“Who are you?” she asks again.
The Dark One cracks a smile then, but something dangerous still lurks behind his eyes.
“You really are like me, aren’t you?” he says. “Do you think you can outwit me?”
“Not outwit you. Just understand you.”
“Understanding is dangerous for mortals, love. Hasn’t anyone told you?”
“I’ve been told that my entire life, Dark One. Just because it’s dangerous doesn’t mean I don’t seek it.”
He regards her thoughtfully, and she thinks she sees a flicker of respect in his gaze. Cecily squares her shoulders and lifts her chin before she speaks.
“If you want my research, you’ll identify yourself. Those are my terms. Do you accept?”
He takes her chin in his hand and tilts her head curiously.
“What a beautiful mind…” he murmurs.
Then he grins.
“I accept. But on one condition. If it’s understanding you want, then my name alone isn’t sufficient,” he says. “Instead, I’ll tell you a story. If you happen to deduce my name from it, then so be it.”
His smile slides into a smirk, his fingers still clutching her chin.
“Do you accept?” he asks.
Cecily nods.
“Tell me your story, Dark One.”
There was a time when the Moon stood alone in the sky, and in her hands she bore two blades. With those blades she would tear the sky asunder and usher in her kingdom, called night. But she fell in love with the Sun, and the nature of her love was either sacrificial, or self-indulgent. She relinquished her kingdom to be with him. The Moon placed her blades in a box, high on a shelf, and vowed to never wield them again, lest they come between her and the one she loved most.
There was a boy who dreamed of the stars, though he’d never set eyes on them. His mother told him tales, but always with a warning. The stars are not ours to bear. Not anymore.
There was a girl made of light, and she outshone all but the Sun himself. Though she was half, like her brother, her birthright was one of day, not night. She never pondered the stars because she saw no need for them. When the boy mentioned his dreams to her, she laughed and called him mad. Why would he yearn for the night when they were given day?
There was a box, high on a shelf. The boy opened it and took the blades, if only to hold the key to the sky for just a moment. But he had gone unnoticed by the Sun and Moon, his shadows not so easy to spot as his sister’s light. So he took those shadows and wrapped himself in them, shielded from watchful, celestial eyes. With his shadows and the Moon’s blades, the boy cut a hole in the sky. Just a small one, barely a window. But it was enough. He finally saw the stars - his kingdom, his birthright - and he stretched out his hand to them. He felt the power of the sky then, what his brilliant sister had claimed to feel all along. With night in his grasp, like her, he felt whole for the first time.
There was the Moon, and despite her long years in the light of day, she still felt the disturbance in her forgotten kingdom. She found the boy and delivered him to the Sun. He was punished. The sky was resealed. And the blades were not to be touched, now under the Moon’s attentive gaze.
There was a boy, born of night, doomed to day. Blessed with a power that no other could comprehend, and forced to deny his very self. But he had his shadows. And so, he wraps himself in them and refuses to bow to those who would seek his subjugation. Should someone see through his deception, they would surely call him mad. But he has seen the stars, and he will hold his kingdom again. If all else fails, he will scour the mortal plane in search of secrets.
How fortunate, he thinks, to find a mere mortal. A mirror mortal. The reflection of his desires and his shadows. How beautiful a sky they could paint together, if only they could trust the mirror.
Cecily listens to his story, and just as he promised, she begins to find understanding. His tale is not written in the history books, nor told in their legends. While it’s possible he’s lying, Cecily finds herself believing him because he’s right, she is like him. And like him, she was never content to simply accept what was handed to her, always striving for more, trading in forbidden knowledge.
The god before her is transfigured then, taking on his true form. His skin is the color of the twilight sky mixed with deep indigo, and stars freckle his cheeks and his hands. Cecily takes his hand and examines it in wonder.
“Do the stars on your skin appear because you touched the sky?” she asks.
He smiles darkly at the suggestion.
“No. I was born with them. But I consider them a promise, Cecily. A promise of night.”
The Dark One looks at her thoughtfully.
“If you can see them, that means you know who I am,” he says.
“Is that how it works? You appear mortal until I know your name?” she asks curiously.
“My name or my heart,” he confirms. He presses his fingers to her lips gently. “I’ll let you wonder which it is you uncovered. I would not have you say my name aloud.”
“Why?”
“Because this form is only for you, my star-bearer. I told you, names hold power. Keep it. It’s your reward for what you’re about to give me.”
“A generous god,” Cecily replies, her smile playful.
“Fair is fair,” he says, tapping his fingers on her lips. “I’ve shared with you my secrets. Now share yours.”
Cecily climbs to her feet and beckons the god to follow.
“They are not my secrets,” she says. “And if I had it my way, the whole world would know them.”
“And you,” he chuckles.
Cecily sweeps her hand across the table, discarding every pointless, mortal thing that has cluttered her life onto the floor.
“Yes…” she says softly.
Cecily reaches into her satchel and spreads her newest research across the table. Schematics and diagrams, written in a language no longer spoken, the tongue of gods and ancients.
“...And me.”
The Dark One paces around the table, drinking it in with not just want, but need.
“In that, we are aligned, star-bearer,” he says. “Explain it to me, and we’ll unravel the missing pieces together. I’ll lend you knowledge not known to your kind, and you do the same for me.”
Cecily smiles, pulling one of the schematics closer to herself with a tilt of her head.
“Fair is fair,” she says.
Weeks pass, and the Dark One visits Cecily every evening. Together, god and mortal, they pore over her life’s work, parsing apart every ancient sigil she’s collected over the years. It had always been her goal to reignite the use of sigil magic in Auroris. Currently, magic belongs to gods and their children, but sigils? Sigils put magic into the hands of the common man. Their potential is practically limitless, if only she could find a way to power them. It had been her hope that House Narat would lend her the necessary resources to continue her research and begin experimentation. Instead, they thought her dream at best absurd, and at worst heretical, an insult to the gods and their magic.
If this god finds the sigils insulting, he doesn’t show it. If anything, his knowledge of the pantheon has only furthered her ability to interpret them.
Cecily leans on the table and scrawls her translation of one of the sigils into a notebook beside her. The god watches her curiously from the other side of the table, then comes and peers over her shoulder.
“I don’t recognize that symbol,” he says, tracing a star-dusted hand across it. “Where did you find it?”
Cecily blinks, trying to recall. All the sigils she studies she found scattered across Auroris. Sometimes their location can indicate what purpose they once served, back when they still worked.
“The Catacombs,” she remembers, “In the old city.”
“Do you know how old it is?”
“Most of the sigils I find down there were from the founding of Auroris. Though, some might predate the city. It’s possible this is one of them.”
The god takes the etching and Cecily watches him with pursed lips, not happy to be interrupted in her work. But he ignores her, entirely focused on the sigil.
“An unknown sigil…” he says under his breath, beginning to pace. “An unknown god, perhaps?”
Every sigil was aligned with at least one god, though some combined the sigils of two or more. But this one was without a binding circle, a characteristic of combined sigils, meaning it must belong to a single god. Cecily had pondered on that particular sigil many times, trying to understand its purpose. But without knowing what god it might be aligned to, untangling its uses is virtually impossible.
“An unknown god?” Cecily repeats, surprised. “How is that possible?”
The Dark One pins the etching up on the wall and steps back, observing it with crossed arms and a furrowed brow. His eyes glow a soft purple.
“Anything’s possible, love,” he says.
Cecily goes to stand beside him, examining his face. She’d never seen him so invested before. Whatever it is he’s thinking, he doesn’t share it with her. She opens her mouth to say something, but then he blinks, the glow vanishing from his eyes. He looks at her with a smooth smile.
“For me, anyway,” he adds.
“If I’d heard that from anyone else, I’d have called them vain. Though, I suppose a god has the right to make such grand claims,” Cecily says, giving him a teasing smile.
She’s not sure what response she was hoping to evoke from him when he eyes her, a laugh maybe, or a smirk. Cecily gasps in surprise when the Dark One suddenly seizes her around the waist and pulls her close with a grin.
“Do I not give you everything you ask for?” he says. “I’m in the business of the impossible, love.”
Cecily stares at his eyes and sees them full of wild light. It would be attractive, if she didn’t also see something else rippling beneath the surface: madness. Her breath catches, and she suddenly feels as though somewhere along the way, she made a mistake dealing with this man. No, not a man. A creature beyond her understanding, who walks realms she never could. His hands clutch her too tightly, and she doesn’t dare to move, feeling like an animal pinned beneath his claws.
The god looks back at the sigil on the wall, and his eyes blaze with light.
“We’re close, star-bearer. I can feel it.”
Close to what? Cecily wants to ask, but she can’t focus with his fingers digging into her hips.
She knows what she wants: to power the sigils again. But she still doesn’t know what it is he’s looking for by helping her. How does this help him bring back the night?
Then, just as suddenly as he’d entrapped her, he releases her. Cecily steps back warily, feeling shivers down her spine as he gathers his cloak and wraps it around his shoulders.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” the god says. “In the meantime, start constructing your device. I’ll ensure you have the necessary components.”
Cecily glances at her schematics. Her best guess at a device to power sigils with artificial magic. She’d had yet to build it though, not before knowing which sigils were safe to test on.
“It will take some time to build a prototype, Dark One… And even more time to work out any potential defects. It’s not ready-”
The Dark One raises his hood, giving her a dry look.
“I do the impossible, remember? It will work. Just have it ready for me,” he says.
As he opens the door to her apartment, the mist curls around his legs, and some of it slips into the room behind him. After he closes the door, Cecily watches that mist gradually dissipate. She slowly takes a seat at the table and stares at her schematics.
For some reason, she thinks of Simon. She misses him.
Cecily jerks upright when she hears the door open. She’d fallen asleep at the table, working tirelessly to finish enough of the prototype to give the god upon his return. She’s about to climb to her feet when the Dark One steps into her apartment, but he lightly trails a hand across her shoulders.
“Don’t get up on my account,” he says.
Cecily watches him warily, though she does as he says and remains seated. The god lifts up the prototype and turns it around in his hand, examining it. Cecily clenches her hands nervously when he says nothing.
“It’s not finished yet,” she cuts in.
The Dark One spins one of the gears with his finger, then he sets the prototype down on the table again. Cecily flinches when he turns to her, ready for him to be disappointed. Instead, he smiles and gives her a kiss.
“It’s a start, love,” he says.
Cecily searches his eyes for a moment, looking for whatever it was she saw in them yesterday, but he looks at her warmly, almost gentle. He tilts his head and cups her cheek.
“I told you, you have a brilliant mind. I’m sure it will be ready soon,” he says.
Maybe it was my imagination, she thinks as he stands up straight and drifts back over to the sigil tacked to the wall.
“In the meantime,” he says, “I have a theory I’d like to test.”
“Oh?”
The Dark One touches the sigil on the wall thoughtfully.
“This sigil is our key, star-bearer. It will be the first we’ll activate with your device,” he muses.
Cecily looks down at her device and rubs the sleep away from her eyes.
“I’m sure you have the most noble intentions, Dark One, but I fail to see the value in activating a sigil that can’t be translated. If our goal is to give this device to the people of Auroris, we’d be better served testing some of the sigils they would need the most, those of light, or healing. I have several such sigils already translated.”
The god glances at her over his shoulder, and his eyes are glowing again. When he turns to face her, the glow fades, and he smiles smugly.
“You’re right, of course,” he says. “And because of that, we’ll be powering the other sigils today.”
Cecily frowns.
“I told you, my device isn’t ready yet.”
The Dark One sweeps his hand across the table, gesturing to the translated sigil drawings already lined up.
“We don’t need your device for these. You have me.”
“You can activate the sigils with your magic?”
“That’s what I plan to test, love.”
Cecily scowls at the translated sigils.
“With all due respect, using god magic to power them defeats the purpose of my research. The whole point is to wield magic without being blessed with immortal blood. If you activate them-”
The god laughs and shakes his head.
“You’re missing the bigger picture. All I’m doing is advancing your research. A god’s touch is the piece you’ve been missing, and it’s why you’ve stagnated in developing your device. Once you understand how the magic works, then you may replicate it,” he explains.
Cecily’s brow furrows as she stands and looks at the sigil on the wall. The longer it stares at her, the stranger she feels. She doesn’t believe sigils can be inherently good or evil, they’re simply vessels for magic, but this sigil… She glances at the Dark One again.
“Activating sigils without care is dangerous. Even for the ones I’ve translated, there’s always a chance that my interpretation of the symbol is wrong, or that there would be side effects of activation-”
“You told me once that you would pursue knowledge regardless of the danger required,” the god says, taking her hand and drawing her closer to himself. “Do you feel differently now, Cecily?”
Cecily naturally leans into him, feeling his magical aura wrap around her in a way that feels oddly comforting. She breathes him in as he begins to stroke her hair. She loves it when he does that.
“...What do you need from me, Dark One?”
The god sighs and smiles.
“I’d have your madness, love. You, unbound.”
It’s more than Simon ever wanted from her. Her whole life, Cecily had sacrificed greatness on the altar of what is safe and proper, abiding by the rules of House Narat in order to find acceptance. Abiding by Simon’s rules because of his concern for her. But it was with the stranger now in her arms where she found understanding.
To be known.
That’s what he promised her. Cecily thinks she’s beginning to understand what he truly meant by that. Cecily looks up at him with fire burning in her eyes and sees the same expression reflected back at her.
“Then you shall have it,” she says.
The two of them move the heavy table aside, clearing space on the rickety apartment floor. Cecily sweeps the dust away as the Dark One lays his cloak on the floor and takes a seat cross-legged. Cecily spreads the sigil etchings on the ground before him, then sits across from him. The god peruses the sigils thoughtfully.
“We’ll start with something simple,” he says, taking one of the sigils that’s roughly diamond-shaped as a base.
“One of your own aligned sigils?” Cecily asks, peering at it curiously.
The Dark One’s eyes flick to hers and he smiles smugly.
“Good,” he says, “you’ve been paying attention. Shall we see how accurate your translations are, love?”
Cecily examines the sigil he chose.
“If I’m not mistaken, this sigil should produce a cloud of mist. See the way these lines interlace?” she says, tracing a finger along the swirling lines that cut through the diamond.
“Makes perfect sense,” the god muses.
“Out in the city, the sigils are typically written or carved into metal. I suspect the metal is what allows the sigil to hold magic, much like demigod magic,” Cecily further explains. “If you’re planning to activate it, you’ll need-”
Cecily falls silent as the Dark One’s eyes glow and the shadows around him shift and materialize into an obsidian knife in his hand. He meets her gaze and smiles wryly.
“I’ll need blood metal?” he asks.
Cecily looks at the knife and nods warily. The god grins as he lays the sharp edge of the blade across his palm.
“Luckily, I have plenty to spare,” he says.
Cecily winces as he cuts the blade across his palm and squeezes it. Beads of quicksilver blood spill onto the floor, slipping across the wooden panels. The knife then dematerializes in his hand, and he draws a finger through the mercury, directing it into the shape of the sigil. Maybe it has to do with his magic, but the mercury somehow manages to keep its shape when he’s finished, despite the uneven floorboards. Cecily leans over and examines the sigil. There’s a flaw in it, a line slightly out of its proper position. The Dark One places both of his hands in the center of the sigil, palms flat on the floor, and his eyes begin to blaze with light.
“Wait!” Cecily says, reaching out a hand in warning.
The god stops, his hands still pressed to the floor, surprised at her interruption.
“The sigil… It’s flawed. If you activate it now, I couldn’t tell you what would happen. Nothing good, I’m sure.”
The Dark One blinks slowly at her, and his voice comes out flat and irritated: “Then fix it.”
Cecily is startled by his tone. It seems unlike him. She looks at him hesitantly, and he gives her a smile. Then his tone shifts to something lighter: “If you’d please, love.”
Cecily nods, taking up a pen as she moves closer to make the adjustments.
“Try not to move,” she says, glancing at him. “You might break the sigil before it’s activated.”
The god gives a low sigh, but otherwise doesn’t reply as she begins shifting the mercury with the pen. She’d rather not touch his blood metal with her bare hands, just to be safe.
“Take your time, love. It’s only your life you're wasting, after all,” the Dark One says wryly after a moment.
Cecily glares at him, not appreciating his sarcasm. He gives her a side-eye, unapologetic. But he’s silent as she finishes the adjustments and steps back.
“There,” she says. “Try it now.”
He wastes no time following the command. The shadows around the room elongate as he focuses his attention on the sigil, pouring magic into the vessel. Cecily watches with fascination as the sigil begins to glow, casting the entire room in pulsating, purple light. Then the Dark One slowly lifts his hands from the sigil and rises to his feet. He steps back and joins Cecily, both of them watching the radiant sigil.
“It worked,” Cecily whispers.
“You doubted me?” The Dark One says, amused.
“No,” Cecily says, “I’ve just never seen one active before.”
The god smirks.
“Nor have I.”
“You really are in the business of the impossible.”
“And I’d urge you to remember that, love,” he says, beginning to pace around to the other side of the sigil. “Shall I trigger its effect?”
Cecily’s brow furrows as she watches the sigil, suddenly nervous. She wrings her hands and takes a deep breath.
“I do hope this doesn’t backfire,” she says, “I don’t think I can afford blowing up half my apartment.”
“We risk the temporary in pursuit of the everlasting,” the god murmurs, and Cecily wonders if he was even addressing her.
She sighs, then gives him a nod.
“Do it,” she says.
The Dark One quirks a smile at her, then snaps his fingers. The sigil flashes with light, then goes dark. For a moment, nothing happens. Then mist begins to fill the room, quickly becoming a dense fog. Cecily laughs in shock, swiping her hand through the mist and watching it swirl around her. Six years of no real progress, and here she is, finally breathing it into her very lungs. The success is intoxicating.
A hand takes hers, and the Dark One spins her into him like a dance, the fog rippling around them. Cecily grins at him.
“I’ll never doubt you again, Dark One,” she says.
“Nor I you, star-bearer,” he says, humor dancing in his eyes. “Your translation was perfect.”
He twirls a strand of her hair around his finger, and Cecily pulls closer to him. He smiles.
“You with the beautiful mind…” he muses.
Cecily glances at the rest of the sigil etchings now scattered around their feet. She bites her lip in thought.
“Let’s do another one,” she says.
The Dark One spins her again with a mad grin.
“I thought you’d never ask, love.”
After the fog clears, they begin on their next attempt, another one of his sigils. The god slices his palm again, the previous injury already completely healed over. This time he allows Cecily to draw the sigil from the start, waiting patiently as she plants it on the floor next to the first sigil. Cecily then steps back and observes her handiwork, thoughtfully tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“This sigil will impose darkness over the room,” she explains.
“My shadows,” the Dark One confirms with a nod. “Though, I’m curious how you arrived at that translation.”
“If you break sigils down to their individual components, they’re surprisingly simple to understand. Each sigil has a base, that’s the largest shape in the center. The base is what aligns a sigil to a specific god. Beyond that, effect is determined by any overlapping shapes,” Cecily says.
The Dark One looks at the sigil critically.
“And you interpret these overlapping shapes… how?” he asks.
“I…”
Cecily frowns. She hadn’t really considered it before. A few of them she was able to figure out from context clues: where the sigils were located, or ancient texts that referenced more prominent sigils and their effects. Sometimes there would even be an area of effect around a sigil, like burn marks scorched into the ground. But for most of the sigils, Cecily has no such explanation behind them, nothing to compare them to. It’s why so few people have pursued this branch of scientific advancement. Because on top of the questionable, heretical nature of the magic, most sigils are impossible to read, like a dead language with no key to decode it. Most people give up, calling it a fruitless task. People like Simon. But Cecily isn’t like them. For some reason, the symbols just make sense to her the longer she ponders them.
“It’s intuition,” Cecily decides. “I can’t really explain how I know, but I can tell that the lines in this pattern refer to darkness or shadows.”
The Dark One watches her for a moment with a gleam in his eyes, then he turns his attention back to the sigil.
“You have a wonderful gift, star-bearer,” he says. “And you say House Narat had no interest in your research?”
“No,” Cecily says darkly. “They wouldn’t even look at my translations, let alone my schematics for the activation device. They called me crazy.”
“Good,” the Dark One says as he kneels down in front of the completed sigil.
Cecily looks at him in disbelief. How dare he?!
But he wasn’t finished. He places his palms in the center of the sigil, careful not to disturb the mercurial lines.
“They’re unworthy of your gift, Cecily.”
Cecily watches as he pours more magic into this sigil and it begins to glow. The matching glow in his eyes fades as he looks up and meets her gaze.
“Why cast pearls before swine?”
Cecily blinks.
“Going through House Narat is the only way to ensure my work is given to Auroris at large. Otherwise, I die in anonymity, like so many before me.”
The Dark One stands and steps over the glowing sigil. He snaps his fingers, and the sigil flares behind him as he steps up to Cecily.
“I would not so easily forget you, my star-bearer. To be held in the mind of a god… Is that not in itself the immortality that you seek?”
The single oil lamp on the table reduces to a tiny flicker, the room growing increasingly darker.
“I never asked for immortality,” Cecily says, looking into the god’s eyes.
“But you did, love. And I will happily grant your request. But I’m a selfish god. What we’ve done here, what we’ll do, it doesn’t leave this room. Understand?”
The tiny flame vanishes, plunging the room into darkness. The only lights that Cecily can see are the stars on his skin. She traces her fingers across those stars, drawing constellations like the darkened sigils on the floor.
“I understand,” she whispers.
Cecily wakes the next morning to find the Dark One still there, cradling her in his arms like he did after they first met.
“You’re still here?” she asks blearily.
“We still have work to do, love,” he responds.
Cecily sinks further into his arms, not quite ready to get up yet. She doesn’t recall ever seeing him sleep. Perhaps he doesn’t need to. Did he lie awake with her all evening while she rested? The thought warms her.
She stares at the god’s star-freckled face. Maybe there’s something reading in her eyes, because his expression gradually shifts to one of curious amusement.
“What?” he asks.
Maybe it’s too bold for her to say to a god. It’s not her place. But the words slip out, sweet like honey on her tongue:
“I think I love you,” she whispers.
The Dark One doesn’t seem surprised by her confession. He kisses her forehead.
“We’ve already established that you’re mad,” he says, amused.
“I mean it.”
“I know you do.”
Cecily blinks. She shouldn’t ask if he loves her in return. He’s a god. Love probably looks different for him, and he’s under no obligation to pledge himself to her.
“Can I ask you something?” she says softly.
“Anything, star-bearer.”
“May I use your name? Your real name?”
He’s silent for a moment, tracing his fingers across her lips thoughtfully.
“Only here,” he says finally. “In this room.”
Cecily sighs and smiles as she rests her head against his chest.
“...Dilucos,” she says, savoring the name in her mouth.
The God of Twilight strokes her hair carefully. Cecily could swear she felt his heartbeat quicken.
The Dark One- No… Dilucos walks among the scattered sigil etchings on the floor, shifting them with his foot to look at them more closely. Cecily trails behind him curiously.
“Which sigils are we going to test today?” she asks.
“We’ll try one that isn’t aligned to me,” he says, flipping over another piece of paper with his foot. He tilts his head slowly upon seeing the sigil scrawled onto it, then he bends down and picks it up, tapping the paper. “This one,” he says decisively.
Cecily peers over his shoulder to examine the sigil. The base of the sigil is a blazing sun, perhaps one of the most recognizable of the gods.
“Sol?” she asks, surprised.
“My polar opposite,” Dilucos agrees. “A test to see if the origin of the magic must be aligned with the god, or simply the blood metal.”
Cecily nods thoughtfully. It’s a worthwhile experiment, and would give her plenty of useful information for the further development of her device. If any magic can power any sigil, that makes things much simpler than trying to replicate specific gods’ magic.
“Good idea,” she says. “Though, I wouldn’t use that particular sigil.”
Dilucos raises an eyebrow at her.
“Creates fire,” Cecily explains.
“Ah.”
“Though,” Cecily says as she starts shuffling through the papers on the floor. She plucks out a different sigil from the mess and hands it to the god instead. “This one is harmless.”
Dilucos examines the sigil critically.
“Let me guess,” he says. “This one creates light.”
“That’s my theory, anyway,” Cecily says. “Are you starting to understand the patterns, or did you read my notebook?”
“Neither,” Dilucos says dryly. “I know Sol’s nature. There are very few of his abilities that I would characterize as harmless.”
Cecily looks at him curiously at that. He’d never spoken of the other gods before beyond mentioning their names in passing. But whatever there was between him and Sol, it’s clearly personal.
“Ah, I imagine you’d be fairly familiar with your father’s magic,” Cecily says thoughtfully.
Dilucos glances at her out of the corner of his eye as he starts to rummage through the odds and ends on the table, hunting for something. “A reasonable assumption,” he murmurs.
Cecily suddenly remembers the story he’d told her initially, about touching the night sky. He’d said the boy was delivered to the Sun for punishment when he was discovered. A thought occurs to her, though she hesitates to voice it. Dilucos suddenly finds what he was looking for and tosses it to her. “You can carve the sigil into this,” he says.
Cecily catches the vessel in her hand: a small, gold disc. Like a faceless coin. She rotates it in her fingers and makes a mental note that coins would make an excellent base for slotting into her device. Cecily takes a seat at the table with the coin and a fine-tipped carving tool. The god lays the page in front of her so she can reference it, then begins to pace behind her, his eyes glowing faintly. Cecily keeps her attention on the sigil as she begins her work, but her mind drifts.
“Dilucos…”
His steps slow behind her. Cecily doesn’t take her eyes off her hands.
“Can a god be harmed?” she asks.
“An interesting question, love. You’ve seen me bleed, have you not?”
Cecily’s hands stop working for a moment, preparing to ask her next question. Then she continues carving into the coin.
“Did he hurt you?”
Silence greets her question, but she leans in closer to the coin, focusing intently on it. Out of the corner of her eye, she thinks she sees the shadows begin to shiver, and the hair on the back of her neck prickles. A deep sense of dread weighs at the edges of her mind, and her hands begin to shake. His aura. She hadn’t felt it like this before. Unable to stand it, Cecily puts down the coin and looks at the god, her eyes wide with fear that isn’t exactly her own. She sees him staring at the unknown sigil pinned to the wall, his eyes blazing with light, yet his face is completely calm.
“Gods do not bear scars…” the God of Twilight says, his voice soft.
He slowly turns his head to look at her, and Cecily can’t tear her eyes away from him.
“...Save those that cut deeper than the skin,” he continues.
Cecily can’t find the words to say, fear rooting her in place and gripping her tongue. The god approaches her and bends down so their faces are level.
“And I was not the favored child,” he says.
Cecily searches his violet eyes. Despite his calm demeanor, they brim with unbridled rage and insanity. She shrinks back and tries to look away, but he gently takes her chin and directs her face back toward him. She trembles and he smiles at her.
“Do you have any more questions for me, Cecily?” he says, his voice little more than a whisper.
His aura lightens just enough to loosen her tongue.
“No,” she says, her voice a tremor.
The god then gives her a gentle kiss on the forehead, and the shadows around them stabilize.
“Then perhaps you should return to work,” he says softly.
Cecily nods mutely. Dilucos stands up straight again.
“You’ll have to excuse me,” he says, donning his cloak. “I have the feeling we’ll be needing more blood metals for these tests, and I want to make sure we’re prepared. I do hope you’ll be finished with that coin by the time I get back.”
Cecily doesn’t reply as she stares down at her hands blankly. When she hears the door open, her words slip out as a whisper:
“I’m sorry.”
Dilucos pauses in the doorway.
“...Apology accepted.”
The door closes and Cecily turns back to the sigil she was drawing, blinking away tears.
Simon was never like this, she thinks as she takes a shaky breath, trying to stop her hands from trembling. Why didn’t I go with him?
Simon wasn’t perfect. But he was safe. He was stable. And he’d only ever wanted to help, in his own way. Cecily knows exactly where he would have gone: to his family outside Auroris. They had never been her biggest fans, always saying that her crazy schemes were going to drag down both her and Simon. But they’d always been kind to her, never asking questions when she and Simon couldn’t afford food or rent that month and needed a little extra help.
Cecily sets down the half-drawn sigil and carving tool, angrily wiping the tears away from her eyes.
I could still leave, she thinks. Simon would welcome her back with open arms, she knows he would.
She gets up and begins to pace.
I could go now, while he’s gone…
She shakes her head. It would never work. He’s a god. And a jealous one at that, by his own admission. Cecily’s steps slow as she tiptoes around the darkened sigils on the floor. She crouches beside them and examines how the mercury had gradually been absorbed into the floorboards. Despite everything, it was Dilucos who was responsible for the best moment in her life. He was the one who’d finally unlocked the sigils’ secrets, with a promise of even deeper knowledge in the future as they’d continue their research. And…
And I wasn’t lying when I said I loved him, she thinks, remembering the softness in his gaze just that morning.
Is it really so bad? she wonders. So he scares you a little. He’s a god. It’s normal to fear them, it’s in their nature.
And yet, a small voice reminds herself, I never feared anything when I was with Simon.
Cecily sighs and buries her face in her hands.
What has her life come to, that these are questions she now must ponder? All she wanted was to bring magic back to the world. But at every turn, something happened to prevent that. Cecily turns her eyes to the unknown sigil pinned to the wall. She doesn’t believe in fate, but if she did, she would ask it many questions:
Why would you give me this gift and not allow me to use it for the greater good?
Why did you allow me to push Simon away?
Why would you bring this god to me, as though I could handle him?
Why…
Why…
Why…?
The sigil on the wall offers no answers.
Cecily rakes her fingers through her hair.
You know what the smart thing to do is, Cecily, she thinks. Stick with the original plan. Get what you need from him, and then leave. Return to Simon, and he’ll protect you.
It’s the only rational course. She was a fool to allow her heart to get tangled up in the mix. Cecily nods to herself and stands up tall. She’d start making preparations now.
She writes a quick letter to Simon, explaining everything. And… apologizing. Then she grabs a second notebook and begins copying all of her newest research, every sigil, every translation, anything she can think of, into the pages. She tucks the original schematics for the device into the notebook and wraps it tightly in cord, tying the letter to its cover. Cecily then places the notebook in a box, high on a shelf, where she’s certain the god would never think to look for it.
He’d asked her not to share their research. But this is her life. Her dream. No matter what happens, he will not take it from her. She’ll see it realized, one way or another: magic, in the hands of mere mortals.
Then she returns to the table and finishes carving the sigil into the coin. She gently sets it down just as she hears the door open again.
Cecily doesn’t look at him as he comes and peers over her shoulder at the sigil.
“It’s done,” she says quietly.
Dilucos picks up the coin and examines it.
“You do beautiful work, love,” he says, giving her a smile.
Cecily doesn’t reply, avoiding his eyes. His smile falls, and he crouches down beside her.
“Did I scare you earlier?” he asks gently.
She doesn’t want to cry.
But she does.
Cecily’s surprised when he pulls her into an embrace, but she buries her face in his chest all the same. He begins to stroke her hair as he whispers comforting words to her. He’s so warm. All at once, her resolve crumbles like sand beneath her feet.
The sigil doesn’t work. Dilucos holds the coin in his hand, eyes glowing as he focuses intently on it, but his shadows ripple off the surface of the gold rather than being absorbed into the vessel. He clenches his jaw and tries harder, and Cecily feels his aura flare again as it threatens to snuff out the lamp on the table.
“Your magic isn’t aligned with the sigil,” Cecily says softly.
Dilucos suddenly stops, his eyes going dark again. He pauses a moment, then he drops the coin on the table and turns away, the shadows still warping and bending in his direction as he moves. The coin threatens to roll off the table, and Cecily quickly slaps a hand over it before it’s gone. The god releases a long sigh that shifts into a quiet growl of frustration. He rubs a hand over his face as he observes the sigil pinned to the wall again. Cecily feels like she should say something, but the look in his eyes stops her.
“So, each god has their own type of magic,” Dilucos concludes. “And a sigil must be powered by the same magic.”
Cecily looks down at the coin in her hand and rotates it thoughtfully in her fingers. She glances at the other sigil etchings, and something catches her eye.
“Combined sigils…” she murmurs.
Dilucos looks at her then, the shadows around him slowly returning to their normal positions.
“What?” he asks.
Cecily picks up one of the etchings and holds it up beside the coin, comparing the two sigils.
“Combined sigils!” she says again, this time more excited. “I never understood their purpose, as oftentimes the additional base wasn’t aligned with what I understood as the sigil’s intended effect…”
Dilucos comes over and looks at the sigils with her, his face shifting to one of innocent curiosity. Cecily glances at him.
“But if a second base was added, it introduces an additional magical channel-”
“Meaning a foreign magic can supply energy to an unaligned sigil,” he finishes, realization dawning.
“Exactly,” Cecily says with a grin, lowering the paper.
Dilucos laughs and draws her into an embrace.
“You, love…”
He picks her up and spins her around with a mischievous grin.
“...are brilliant.”
Cecily smiles, and once her feet grace the ground again she immediately takes up the carving tool and sets to work on the coin.
“If I just overlay your sigil on the coin, it should have the same effect,” she says.
Dilucos eagerly sits beside her and watches her work, absolutely fascinated. It warms her heart to have him there, that a god would find beauty and meaning in the work of her hands… In her.
How could I ever think about leaving? Cecily wonders. We’re practically made for each other.
Two minds aligned toward a common goal, one mortal, the other everlasting. Two souls reflected in each other like a mirror. She could hunt the world over until she was old and gray and never recapture this feeling. All the best things in life take a little risk. If she must walk the razor’s edge of his love to keep it, then she will.
Cecily finishes drawing the binding circle around the coin in one smooth stroke before placing it in his hand.
“For you, love of mine,” she says, meeting his eyes.
Dilucos searches her face for a moment, his expression difficult to read, as though there are two thoughts warring in his mind, but Cecily can’t even begin to fathom what they are. Then his fingers slowly close over the coin and he smiles smoothly at her. As he stands up, he gives her a soft kiss on her forehead before holding the coin out in front of him in his palm. Cecily feels his aura ripple across the room again as his eyes glow and his magic funnels into the coin. The sigil lights up with a soft, purple glow, and Dilucos releases the magic with a satisfied sigh. He lowers his palm so Cecily can see the coin, and she runs her fingers over the glowing sigil, the first of her own creation. She smiles up at him with pride. He gives her a wink.
“Well done, star-bearer.”
Dilucos snaps his fingers, and the purple light flashes before the coin goes dark. Then it gradually starts to radiate a soft, white light. Dilucos hands Cecily the glowing coin, and she’s surprised to find it pleasantly warm, like sunlight. He crosses his arms and tilts his head with a playful smile.
“Have I told you before that you have a brilliant mind?”
Cecily laughs.
“You might have mentioned it,” she says.
“Then I’ll say it again, love. See what you can do when you don’t allow fear to direct your steps? You and I are on the cusp of something truly great…”
With one hand Dilucos gestures to the strange sigil on the wall, and the other he extends to her.
“Will you leap with me, Cecily?”
Cecily looks at the sigil on the wall, running her thumb across the radiant coin in her hand thoughtfully. Then she leaves the coin on the table and takes the god’s hand.
“Combine your sigil with the unknown sigil?” she asks.
Dilucos dips his head to her in acknowledgement.
“So that we can activate it,” he agrees.
“Without knowing what it does?”
Dilucos looks at the sigil thoughtfully.
“I have my guesses,” he says. “But I need your assistance to confirm them.”
Cecily crosses her arms and looks at him critically.
“If you know now how to combine the sigils, why don’t you try it yourself?” she asks.
The god shakes his head and gestures to the sigils scattered across the room. All of her life’s work.
“This is your gift, love. I have magic, but you hold something entirely unique to you…”
Cecily looks at him in confusion.
“...The ability to interpret,” he says. “I would not be able to invent new sigils the same way, I’m sure.”
He presses something into her palm, another faceless coin. Cecily examines the coin thoughtfully, holding it up to the radiant sigil’s light. This one is smooth and reflective like glass, but its surface is speckled with darker gray flecks that mar the reflection. Mercury glass.
“And this sigil… Will it give you the stars, Dilucos?”
“More than that, star-bearer,” he says. “I believe it will bring the world what it has forgotten for 500 years…”
Dilucos smiles.
“...Night.”
Cecily taps her fingers on the mercury glass thoughtfully.
“You told me once that what we all desire is to be known,” she says softly. “Is that the case for you as well, God of Twilight?”
His shoulders tighten at the question. For a moment, Cecily worries that she angered him again, and she prepares an apology. Instead, he gives her a guarded smile: a gaping wound inside him, barely shielded with curved lips.
“I said ‘all,’ did I not?” he muses.
Cecily glances at the unknown sigil.
“Then… It’s not about the stars, is it? Or about night,” she says cautiously as she moves closer to him. “It’s about you.”
Dilucos watches her, the guarded look in his eyes unchanged as she takes his hands in hers. He doesn’t reply, so she continues.
“The world didn’t just forget night…” she says, gently running her thumb over the stars on the back of his hand. “...It forgot you. You, of shadows, blocked out by greater lights.”
Behind her, the sigil still glows with sunlight, casting long shadows past them. The stars on his face are washed out by that light as he gazes back at her.
“Think you know me, love?” he says softly.
Cecily holds up the mercury glass coin between them, her reflection staring back at her through that tiny window.
“I am your reflection, am I not? By your own admission. I know what it is to be passed over, forgotten, unneeded. I know what I see in the mirror. If all you seek is to be known… Can I not offer you that in myself, as you have for me?”
Dilucos stares at the glass coin, his own blood metal. A softness flickers in his eyes, a different kind of desire than Cecily had seen in him previously.
“Are you asking me to abandon my search for night, Cecily?”
“I’m asking if I might be enough.”
“You are mortal. Doomed to pass on in due time. Should I accept your request, where does that leave me, star-bearer?”
Cecily bites her lip in worry and searches his eyes.
“Do you not want me?” she asks.
The god wavers then, his fingers intertwining with hers. Then he pulls her into an embrace, arms wrapped around her fiercely, as though she might slip away if he lets go.
“I want it all, love,” he whispers into her hair.
“And I want you,” she murmurs into his chest.
“What would you have me do?” he asks, his arms tightening.
Cecily breathes in his scent, fresh as the mist that hangs low over the Twilight River.
“Would it be enough to simply touch the stars again, and then… Then you could stay with me until my time is done? Help me bring sigil magic to Auroris? And then you could return to your search for night, using everything we learn together.”
“You don’t know what it is to be separated from yourself, love. I will never be whole without the stars.”
“Yet I am your star-bearer.”
He falls silent then, his arms slowly loosening in their grip, allowing Cecily to breathe more easily again.
“Would you promise me this?” she asks gently. “For me?”
Dilucos hesitates, then his words come quietly.
“...’Til the end of your days…”
Cecily sighs in relief.
“Then I will carve the sigil, that you may touch the stars.”
Cecily hands Dilucos the freshly-carved mercury glass coin, his own sigil mixed with the mysterious one. He turns the coin over in his fingers thoughtfully. At his feet, hazy shadows slither out from around him and lazily crawl up the walls, draping from the corners of the room like cobwebs. Cecily warily steps out of the way of one of the shadows as it slips by her. Dilucos pays them no mind as he paces to the center of the room, giving himself space. Cecily hesitantly follows, watching the shadows with distrust.
“What are they doing?” she asks.
“Cloaking,” Dilucos says dismissively. “They won’t harm you.”
A shivering gloom hangs over Cecily’s apartment now, stretching between the corners of the room like a translucent net. She shudders. It feels twisted and unnatural.
“Cloaking from what?” she asks, inching closer to Dilucos.
“Prying eyes,” he says softly as he settles the coin in the center of his palm and takes a breath, relaxing his shoulders.
Prying eyes.
Celestial eyes.
Cecily realizes that at the moment, she exists in the one place in Auroris that is out of divine view… Save for the god she’s currently with. Though, he pays her about as much mind as his shadows.
Dilucos’ eyes begin to glow then as he starts to activate the sigil. Like the others, it accepts his magic willingly as it vanishes into the vessel. But unlike the others, this one seems… Hungry. It continues to absorb his magic long after the other sigils did, and it shows no signs of slowing anytime soon. Cecily watches with wide eyes, and even the god’s expression starts to shift, a hint of worry creasing his brow.
“How much magic is it going to take?” Cecily asks.
Dilucos doesn’t answer, keeping his attention on the coin as it continues to devour his magic. Cecily approaches, her voice strained with concern.
“Will you have enough? Perhaps you should sto-”
“I’m a god,” he hisses through his teeth. “It’s enough,” he says.
As if the sigil itself was listening, it responds to his words. Cecily didn’t see him trigger the effect - he’s still in the activation process - but something starts to happen as the sigil blazes with purple light. The room shudders, the walls and floor humming with uncontrolled energy, dark and malicious. Around the corners of the room, the shadows cloaking them strain against the flood of magic but manage to hold, containing it within the one room. But to Cecily, it feels like the whole world is ripping apart at the seams, piece by piece. On the ceiling, just above the sigil, an inky black shadow begins to form, pouring into the room like tar. Pieces of the floor and walls begin to flake away, slowly drawn toward the portal above them.
What is this magic?! Cecily wonders as she stumbles back, gripping the table frantically as if it will prevent her from being sucked into the portal as well.
Dilucos looks up into the portal, and Cecily sees silver blood glistening on his cheeks, dripping from his eyes. The sigil flashes again, and all the papers scattered around the room are kicked up in a flurry, swept toward the growing portal. Cecily begins to feel herself being lifted from the ground as well as she clings desperately to the table.
“Stop!” she cries.
The god doesn’t seem to hear her, all his attention on the portal, though his magic is still being devoured by the sigil in his palm. The stars along his skin begin to wink out one by one, the vibrant blues and purple shades across his face fading to an ashen gray.
“I can almost see them…” he whispers.
Another current of magic sweeps Cecily’s feet out from under her, and she crashes to the floor which cracks like ice beneath her. The smallest shards of flooring are sucked into the portal, whipping past her and nicking her face. She claws desperately at the floor, trying to maintain her grip as she’s slowly dragged toward the center of the room.
“You’re going to kill us both!” she wails.
Dilucos reaches one desperate hand up to the portal, and the tar drips down to meet him. Within the ink, glistening stars surface, drawn to his touch. In his other hand, he lowers the sigil, forgetting it in lieu of the night, nearly in his grasp.
Cecily sees the carving tool roll past her on the ground, and she frantically grabs it before it’s drawn into the portal as well.
If he won’t stop it…
The next wave of magic is stronger and it lifts Cecily off the ground. This time she lets go and allows it to drag her in, and she tumbles into the god. It’s like she isn’t even there as she wraps her arms around his waist. He doesn’t see her. Cecily briefly looks at his face, pale and sickly as the sigil continues to drain every last drop of magic in his body.
“I love you,” she says, tears streaming from her eyes that are whipped away into the portal. “So trust me when I say that this is for you…”
Cecily grabs Dilucos’ hand with the sigil in it and finds it lodged in his palm, impossible to remove. She takes the carving tool and slashes it across his hand and the glowing sigil. There’s a high-pitched shriek and a sound like shattering glass as the sigil cracks. The magic lances out of the coin and shoots up Cecily’s arm, burning like lightning. Both god and mortal cry out in pain, and all at once the torrent of magic stops, vanishing like it was never there to begin with. They both collapse to the floor together, and what few paper sigils hadn’t been sucked into the portal now softly drift back to the ground like snow around them. The mercury glass coin rolls out of Dilucos’ hand and lands on the floor a few feet away, the shattered sigil now dark.
Cecily heaves a shaky breath and releases a sob when she looks at her right arm with horror. The flesh on her hand has been scorched away, leaving exposed and blackened finger bones. Magic like black ink swirls up the rest of her arm to her shoulder, and little pin pricks of light sparkle along the black. It might have been beautiful, if it weren’t so grotesque. The price paid for a broken sigil.
Beside her, Dilucos slowly raises his head, his violet eyes now pale and half-lidded with exhaustion. Silver blood still trails down his cheeks like tears. He drags himself across the floor until he reaches the shattered sigil, and he draws it into his now-bloodied hand, cradling it there.
“What have you done?” he asks, his voice hoarse.
Cecily lowers her head, her good hand shaking as she cautiously moves her blighted hand closer to her body.
“I saved your life,” she says, voice trembling.
Dilucos lowers his head to the floor again, staring at the shattered sigil, eyes swimming with grief.
“You mad woman… Gods can’t die,” he says weakly.
“Tell that to the hand I cut. It’s still bleeding, isn’t it?” she says softly.
He looks at his injured hand, still dripping mercury onto the floor. Then his eyes drift closed, his breathing soft and shallow. Cecily moves closer and lays on the floor beside him, curling her body protectively around the broken god.
He’s gone when she wakes. Cecily sits up abruptly and looks around in alarm. Her apartment is in complete disarray, falling apart at every hinge. The cloaking shadows are gone now, but a thin layer of mist trickles in from the door left slightly ajar. She goes to stand and finds her blighted arm hanging limp at her side, pain still shooting through her shoulder. Cecily winces and stumbles over to the door, staring out into the foggy street. There’s no sign of him, but she notices the glisten of silver droplets on the ground, his blood metal.
A part of her is relieved to find that he’s still alive and well enough to move. The other part of her looks back into her apartment and sees the chaos he left in his wake.
He left me, Cecily realizes. Took what he wanted, and left…
She drifts mindlessly back into her apartment, closing the door shut tight behind her. She stares at her corrupted arm, rendered useless.
It’s only then that she realizes he took the shattered sigil as well. She’s alone again, with only a crumbling home and her broken inventions for company. The arm hurts, but not as much as the knowledge that it was all for nothing.
A week later, Cecily manages to clean up the apartment as best she can. She binds her blighted arm up in a sling, just to keep it out of the way. She re-compiles what research she has left, taking the second journal down from the shelf, grateful that at least she’d thought to copy everything down. Very little was lost. Yet, she stares at her notes and the prototype of her device, hesitating to continue her work. Is it fear of the sigils? Or… Is she simply waiting to see if he’ll return?
She looks at the note she’d written for Simon, attached to the notebook. She feels guilty for what she said about the god, that she was afraid of him. Cecily can’t help but feel responsible for him leaving. It was her destroying the sigil that caused all of this, and she can’t even blame him if he’s angry with her. She told him that she would help him touch the stars, and the moment before he could achieve that, she tore it from him. To have his dream so close…
But I saved his life, Cecily reminds herself. Isn’t that love?
She stares at the note for Simon, and suddenly she understands how he must have felt the day he left. For 6 years, he gave everything for her and she gave nothing for him.
Was it worth it? she wonders.
She pens a new note to Simon, this time asking if he would come and speak to her. This one, she sends.
The second week after the incident, Cecily tries to get her arm looked at. But what meager savings she’d had built up can only go so far for treatment, and every doctor she speaks to tells her the same thing: a magical injury can only be healed with magic. There are no healing demigods currently in the Moon Level, and even if there were, there's no chance that Cecily could afford their services. She refuses to have the arm amputated, so back in the sling it goes.
It’s dead weight, but it serves as a dark reminder. She holds it close.
The third week, Cecily finally sets to work, resignation woven into the set of her shoulders as she hunches over the table. It’s hard, adjusting her device with only one working hand, but she manages. A healing sigil before her, she’s determined to finally get her device working, this time not for glory, but for survival. If she can just restore her arm, it’s enough. She doesn’t want to touch the sigils ever again after that. They’ve brought her nothing but pain.
A month later. There’s no word from Simon. Cecily doesn’t expect him to come anymore, it had simply been too long since he’d left. If he had any sense, he would have moved on with his life and found someone better. She prays to Luna that he had greater luck on that front than she had. Then again, Simon was always the sensible one.
Cecily holds up the device with her good hand, very nearly complete. The only piece that’s missing is magic to power it. She slips an iron sigil coin into the intended slot, the healing sigil just visible through the exposed panel on the side. She peers at the aperture, designed to channel in magic steadily and safely. But she doesn’t know how a mortal is meant to create magic.
Cecily paces across her apartment, pondering it. Perhaps Simon would have an idea…
It’s then that she hears a knock at the door. Cecily feels a flutter of hope in her chest.
Simon?
All the words that had been swirling around her mind for the last month spring to the tip of her tongue as she places her hand on the doorknob. She doesn’t want to convince him to stay with her, but she does want to apologize, to let him know that she finally understands how she hurt him. Cecily opens the door, eyes bright with unshed tears.
Deep, violet eyes look back at her.
“Miss me, love?” Dilucos asks, giving her a smile as he steps into the doorway with her.
Cecily stares at him numbly, her blighted arm suddenly feeling heavy in its sling. She says nothing as he gives her a kiss and gently directs both of them inside, mist curling around their legs. Dilucos closes the door behind them and his eyes fall to her arm in the sling.
“I’ll take your silence as a result of you being…” he gestures to her blighted arm, “...starstruck,” he says dryly.
Cecily looks at her arm, the little stars glistening along her inky skin. For his part, he looks untouched after the incident a month ago. If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she would have never known how close he had come to death.
“It happened after I destroyed the sigil,” Cecily says, a tremor in her voice.
This time, it’s not fear that makes her shake. It’s anger.
He didn’t even notice what happened to me. Didn’t even care, she thinks bitterly.
He was dying, she reminds herself. He was a little preoccupied.
Not dying now, though, is he?
Dilucos blinks slowly, still looking at her arm.
“I see…” he says.
“After I saved your life,” Cecily adds, tilting her head up toward him, her eyes cold. “A month ago.”
The god meets her eyes, unflinching. She sees no remorse, only shadows, impossible to read. He smiles at her thinly. Cecily glances away again.
“May I see it?” Dilucos says, holding out a hand to accept her blighted arm.
Her first instinct is to say “no.” But after a moment, Cecily hesitantly unravels the sling and gingerly lets the arm lower. She grits her teeth as the movement sends pain shooting up her arm. Dilucos carefully takes her arm in his hand and examines her blackened finger bones, then lightly runs his fingers across her skin. The stars swirl in response to his touch, but it feels like ice stabbing into her flesh. Cecily winces and he suddenly stops, looking at her. His face is calm, but his eyes are cold.
“Your kind was never meant to touch the stars,” he says.
“This magic…” he lifts her arm slightly, and Cecily gasps in pain. “...Was meant for me, not you.”
“I didn’t want it,” she says through gritted teeth.
Dilucos tilts his head and pulls her closer to him by her arm. Cecily cries out in pain.
“Didn’t you, star-bearer?” he says, his voice soft.
“I did it for you!” she gasps. “To save you!”
Dilucos is silent as he searches her eyes.
“Ah, yes. Because you love me,” he says.
Cecily stares at him, her eyes wide with shock and pain.
“You think I’m lying?” she whispers in disbelief.
“Are you?” he asks, his eyes softly glowing.
Between them, he slowly lifts up a small, white envelope. The letter for Simon. Cecily feels a chill run through her. Dilucos taps the letter on his chin thoughtfully.
“Am I meant to believe that this is a sign of your love for me? That you intend to crawl back to your old lover?”
His fingers tighten around her injured arm, and Cecily opens her mouth in a silent cry of agony. The god leans in close, his voice still low, but cutting as broken glass.
“Or was it that you intended to learn all you could from me, then cut and run? Take my magic, take my stars, take my heart-” he spits that word like it’s a curse. “...As though I wouldn’t notice or miss it.”
“I was trying to save your life,” Cecily gasps. “The sigil would have drained you completely if I hadn’t broken it.” Her next words come out as a whimper: “Please, let me go, you’re hurting me…”
The shadows at their feet curl and merge into winding shapes like thorny vines, twisted and dark. Dilucos’ eyes shimmer with purple light, anger burning just under the surface of his calm demeanor. Then he scoffs and drops her arm. He turns away from her, his cloak swishing around him. Cecily quickly draws her blighted arm back to herself, cradling it close as she watches the god, taking a wary step back.
He picks up the device she left on the table.
“I see you’ve been busy,” he says. “Apparently, the only motivation you needed was to save your own skin.”
“You left me!” Cecily spits out. “For a month, you left me alone with a broken body and nothing but the tattered remnants of your dream! What was I supposed to think? That you cared for me?”
Dilucos doesn’t look at her, keeping his eyes on the device.
“I wanted to see what you would do,” he says, turning the device in his hand. “Where your loyalties really lie.”
He tosses the letter to the ground, and it drifts across the floor to rest at Cecily’s feet.
“I found my answer,” he says simply.
“You were… testing me?” Cecily says, her voice hushed with barely-contained anger.
“And conducting some research of my own,” Dilucos says, opening the compartment on the device and sliding out the iron sigil coin. He examines the healing sigil thoughtfully.
“Would you like me to recount what I learned?” he asks. “Or have you decided you are now… Beyond such trivialities?” He slowly looks at her out of the corner of his eye.
Cecily’s gaze lands on the device, her last hope of restoring her arm.
“Tell me,” she says.
Dilucos slides the sigil back into the compartment, then leaves the device on the table. He laughs softly.
“Still the scientist, then,” he says.
Cecily refuses to reply. If he’d read the letter for Simon, he knows she intends to cease her research and leave these days behind her. He’s toying with her. Trying to enlist her help again after she’d already made up her mind. But if he knows the last piece necessary to power the device…
Dilucos begins to pace around Cecily, his shadows drifting after him, still writhing.
“My first discovery: gods can die,” he says. “Under the right conditions, we can be rendered mortal. Take away the magic, and healing becomes an impossibility, at least until the subject is returned to Caeles and allowed to regain their magic.”
He flexes the fingers on his hand thoughtfully, the same one that Cecily had cut when breaking the sigil. It holds no scars now, but she remembers what it looked like when it was dripping mercury onto her floor. His shadows begin to spread now, trailing to the corners of the room, crawling up the walls.
“Second, there are certain sigils that use more than just magic to activate them,” he says.
Cecily stares at him in shock.
“What?” she says.
Dilucos stops in his pacing and tilts his head at her, smiling smugly.
“Ah, does that catch your attention, love?”
“What do you mean, ‘more than magic?’” Cecily asks, taking a hesitant step toward him.
He meets her in the middle and she stands before him. She’s reminded of their first meeting, outside the Moon Temple. She’d thought he was beautiful then. He still is, but now she can see the cruelty behind his eyes, finally recognizing what exactly was a reflection of herself: Obsession. A desire so strong that it would shatter the very world at his feet, and her along with it. The god trails his fingers gently along her cheek, as he did before.
“I didn’t realize until I met you, little star-bearer, just how many facets there are to a person. I was looking for the mind, I thought that was the most beautiful part of you…”
Cecily looks into his eyes, and she feels like she’s falling all over again, drawn irresistibly into his arms, in spite of everything.
“...Little did I know that there was so much more you were hiding beneath it all. A heart. A soul. Mortal, but more radiant than the stars themselves.”
Dilucos raises her skeletal hand in his, gently this time, so there’s no pain.
“It’s no wonder you can wear them on your skin, love. That strength, that power you hold inside, exceeds that of any magic I possess. Do you know how I know this, Cecily?”
Cecily shakes her head, unable to find the words. Dilucos presses her blighted fingers to his lips and kisses them softly, eyes glistening with pure admiration.
“Because I thought I held you in the palm of my hand, that I could take anything I wanted and there was nothing you could do about it. Because you were weak. Because you were mortal. But you…”
He laughs then, turning his attention to her face. There’s tension in his smile, desperation and fear melding with the madness in his glowing eyes.
“...You with the beautiful mind… You with the beautiful soul… You managed to reach into me and bent my heart to your will with nothing but a word and a soft touch, willfully ignorant of my intentions, and it was so…”
Dilucos draws Cecily close to him, wrapping her in a hug, his shadows drifting over them like a gentle, shifting blanket. He heaves a sigh, resting his chin on her head.
“...Mortal,” he whispers.
Cecily shivers in his grip, torn between the part of her that wants to lay herself bare before him, and the part that whispers quietly into her ear: Run. But she’s firmly in his clutches now. The time for running has long passed.
“I don’t understand,” she says shakily, tears trickling down her cheeks like the dread that sinks deep in her chest.
“I very nearly set aside my plans for your request, love,” Dilucos murmurs as he begins to stroke her hair. “You almost convinced me to abandon everything I ever wanted in favor of you. That, star-bearer, is power insurmountable. It’s the same thing that convinced my mother to abandon the night in the first place. You ask what’s stronger than magic? It’s simply that.”
Cecily looks up at him, eyes wide with innocence.
“Love?” she asks softly.
The god smiles at her warmly, leaning in for a kiss.
“No…” he breathes.
“Soul.”
He kisses her deeply, and she leans into him, the pain in her arm forgotten. His shadows slide across her skin, familiar and intimate now in their chill. Then she feels pain suddenly arc through her back. Cecily gasps as Dilucos removes the obsidian knife with a flourish, and blood begins to trickle down her spine.
“I’m unsure how to remove a soul from a body in order to imbue a sigil with it…” he says, gently lowering her to the floor beneath him.
The god’s eyes flash with light, and Cecily finally sees his cloaking shadows draping the room. He rests her on the ground, scarlet blood already beginning to pool beneath her.
“But I’m sure you and I can figure that part out together, love,” he says, giving her a smile.
Cecily struggles, frantically trying to crawl away from him as his aura weighs heavy on her, making it so she can’t scream. His shadows then wrap around her wrists and ankles, binding her to the blood-slick floor. He straddles her, pinning her in place with his knees as he wields his obsidian knife in one hand and his shadows deliver her device to the other. Cecily tries to twist away, but his shadows tighten their grip. In his hand, the device tilts, and she can see the glisten of a new sigil coin slotted into it, mercury glass instead of iron: a perfect duplicate of the shattered sigil. It whirs to life, the gears clicking as he flips the switch on the handle.
Dilucos positions the knife under her chin, angling her face toward him so he can better see the panic in her eyes.
“Are you ready, star-bearer?” he asks gently, the same voice he used when he would comfort her. It does nothing for her tears now.
Cecily’s chest heaves with sobs she can’t release, smothered by his very presence. He drags the tip of the knife down from her chin to her heart, applying just enough pressure to draw a touch of blood.
“Then, let’s begin.”
Her chest rises and falls with one last mortal breath, and then the device in Dilucos’ hand steadily begins to glow with pale, white light. It shines like starlight, and the god finally sits back and observes his work, catching his breath. He allows the shadow blade to dissipate in his hand and wipes away the blood on his face with his arm, his eyes locked on the glowing sigil.
Dilucos stands up, ignoring the corpse on the floor as he smiles at the sparkling light in his hand with wonder. He’d powered a sigil without using magic.
“You’re beautiful, love,” he says, watching the gears of the device click and spin with delicate grace.
Dilucos directs the device toward the nearest wall with curiosity.
“...But let’s see how well you work.”
He flips the second switch, triggering the sigil. For a moment, the sigil flickers, and he worries that his star-bearer isn’t strong enough to stand against the strain of activation. Then it flares to life, the rings along the device spinning and channeling her energy through the aperture, perfectly stable. Pale light arcs from the device and hits the wall, rippling across it like glowing mist. A portal begins to grow, though it’s completely unlike the one from before. This one is made of pure light, and Dilucos winces from the shine of it. Then the whirring of the device slows to a stop, exhaling one last hiss, like a sigh. Dilucos examines the sigil with alarm, and he quickly slides it out of the device and into his palm. It pulses weakly with light, barely alive, but he can still feel her in there, the same way she’d felt in his arms when she’d sleep. His eyes glow for a moment, channeling a tiny sliver of his magic into the sigil, just enough to sustain her. The sigil’s light strengthens and stabilizes, and Dilucos releases a sigh of relief.
“Thought I lost you there,” he says, tracing his finger softly along the sigil’s grooves.
Then he looks up at the shining portal, eyes narrowed.
“We’ll work on that…”
He steps up to the portal and hesitantly touches its surface. The moment he does, the light ripples away and reveals…
Himself.
A blood-soaked god with a star in his hand, repeating endlessly, like two mirrors facing each other.
Dilucos stares at it wide-eyed with shock and sees only his own horror reflected back.
“What…?” he whispers in disbelief.
He reaches his hand hesitantly toward the portal, fear prickling along the back of his neck as his breath catches in his throat. Then he grits his teeth and thrusts his hand inside the portal, heart racing. Nothing happens.
Dilucos laughs, a tense sound, wild with nervous energy. He pulls his hand back and finds it unscathed, perfectly normal. He takes a deep breath and grins fiercely at the sigil.
“Not my stars, love,” he says, rolling his shoulders. “But I’ll admit, you’ve piqued my interest.”
He steps into the portal and lands on the other side. It’s the exact same room he left, standing in front of the portal again. He glances behind himself, eyes drifting over the corpse with disinterest, but the portal he stepped through is gone.
“A portal to nowhere…” he murmurs to himself, examining the portal critically.
He steps through it again, and it’s the same thing, spit out in the same room.
“Or a portal to here…”
The portal shimmers then, drifting away like dust with nothing but a whisper. Dilucos stares at the place where it was, tilting his head curiously.
“I suppose there are multiple pathways to the stars,” he says softly.
The god pockets the glowing sigil and the device, drawing his shadows from the corners of the room and wrapping them into his cloak.
“Not to worry, star-bearer. You and I will have plenty of time to explore them all.”
Simon didn’t think he would find himself back in Auroris, but he had expected to hear from Cecily ages ago. For a time, he believed that perhaps she hadn’t loved him after all, and that she had no intention of contacting him again. But he knew her too well for that. Cecily was never one to love anything with half of her heart, which was why she couldn’t tear herself away from her work. If she said that she loved him, Simon would believe her.
Perhaps she simply got too caught up in her work and forgot to reach out, he thinks as he walks through the familiar, foggy streets of the Moon Level.
His feet know the way to their old apartment like he never left in the first place. The stones beneath him hold countless memories, both good and bad. Simon decides to focus on the good ones, resolving to bring them up again if Cecily still refuses to join him away from Auroris.
Simon pauses a block away from their place and looks up at one of the newly-installed electric street lamps, its crackling, blue light humming in the still air. Cecily was always talking about how much she admired the lights and the mind behind their invention. She was elated when one of them was installed so close to their home so she could study its mechanisms more closely. It was her greatest inspiration behind her sigil device. Simon had spent many late evenings after work simply watching the look on her face as she would work with the sigils. He’d missed that expression. Seeing the simple peace and joy she found in the act of discovery… It made every sacrifice worth it.
I should have never left, he thinks, rubbing a hand over his face. It was selfish of me…
His life wasn’t as bright without her in it. He wonders if she feels the same way.
Simon continues to their apartment and feels his heart lift when he sees the glow of a warm light through the hazy window. But then he sees the door slightly ajar, the mist swirling around the opening like frozen breath. Simon’s steps slow as he approaches. It’s unlike her to leave the door open and risk the moisture damaging her disorganized papers.
“Cecily?” he says warily as he pushes the door open.
He sees her there.
For a moment, he doesn’t believe that it’s actually her, she’s bloodied and flayed beyond recognition. But as he kneels beside her broken form, blood soaking into the fabric of his pants, he knows the truth. Simon recognizes her in the soft curves of her body that he knew so well, in the slight hunch of her shoulders from too many days poring over old books. His love. His light. Gone.
Simon draws Cecily into his arms and weeps for every mistake he ever made, every regret he ever had, and he watches those tears wash away the blood on her face like an apology given moments too late.
Out of the corner of his eye, Simon sees a letter on the floor, the corner of the envelope stained with her blood. He reaches for it and reads it with trembling hands, Cecily’s final love letter, intended for him. His shaking stops as he reads, his breath growing steadier as anger gradually overcomes grief.
A god.
That’s who did this. That’s who tried to steal Cecily’s legacy and claim it as his own.
Cecily said in her letter that she planned to stop her research, that she had found enough to last her a lifetime, a lifetime with Simon. She also said that she wanted to bequeath all of her knowledge to any children they might have together, on the off chance that they might be interested in continuing her research.
Simon had always wanted children, but Cecily had never felt like it was time, her research always coming first. The pair had steadily begun to accumulate items over the years that they thought would come in handy once they finally took that jump, storing them away in a single box, high on a shelf. Simon looks at that box now. The apartment had been picked clean of any of Cecily’s research, no doubt taken by the jealous god, but that box had been left untouched.
Simon presses his forehead to Cecily’s and makes a vow to her then: that her name will never be forgotten, that he will write her into the history of his family.
Cecily Vear, the Sigil-Bearer.
Cecily Vear, the heart of Simon Summers, ripped from him too soon.
And so, quiet rage for a heinous act is passed through generations, a rage against gods who would take far too much and offer far too little. They are silent, for a time…
But they will not be forgotten.
Well written and very engaging!! ~K