Juniper was a breath away from the door when she said, “I hid.” He looked back over his shoulder to find she had put her pen down and was instead gazing into space. “For a long time I hid. Even when the Heavens Act was made to protect us. Even when the war began.”
“And?” He wanted to stay. Wanted to hear what she had to say.
While she was contemplating her words he took in her appearance. She was beautiful. Beautiful and proud and fiery. Her skin lived to contrast the deep tones of her hair and eyes. And she was proud. Each cell of her being screamed it at Juniper until he’d never forget it. But there was something hidden within that pride. Something small and quiet.
“And they took me.”
His heart fell.
“Revolutionists,” Juniper breathed. There were no right words. The Revolutionists were cruel when it came to killing, but he had heard torture was like dying a thousand times. He’d never met a god who escaped them.
Not until now.
“We pick our battles, Juniper. We pick the easy ones or the hard ones, the quiet or the loud ones. But we must also be willing to accept the price.” Mayflower looked down at her hands like she could see blood and ash written in the lines. “And I paid mine.”
“Don’t sound offended.” Quinn glared at him out of the corner of his eye.
“I’m not. I always knew there was something strange about you Quinn. Something infinitely powerful and destined for great things.” Juniper took another sip from the bottle. Their eyes met again, both of them inquisitive. “You are the God of Light. You have white blood and weird abilities and a connection to the goddess who predates the entire universe.” Quinn watched the corner of his friend’s lips turn up encouragingly, though not happily. “You are learning more about yourself, and that is an amazing thing. I do not fear for you because of that. But you have yet to learn Pandora’s whole truth. It is that truth that I’m afraid will ruin you.”
He dropped his gaze to the ground, searching for something to stare at besides Juniper. His eyes found the window. Quinn watched the lightning again, the rolling rain clouds, and the glimmer of sunlight beyond it all.
To be honest, Quinn feared for Pandora’s truth as well. Her past would certainly be more complex than his own. A woman out of and within time all the same. The master of time itself, it seemed. At least in a romanticized sense. And yet there was a darkness within that past. It was fuming. That darkness is what made her recoil when he wasn’t angry. When he wasn’t punishing her.
What did that darkness do to her?
“I understand your fear, Juniper,” he said under his breath. “But I do not feel it as well. Even if Pandora can, which I doubt, it doesn’t seem like so much of a bad thing to be ruined by her.”
Juniper scoffed. “Then you are a fool.”
Quinn stared into the clouds, saw every molecule within them and he smiled.
19. Orion, Lily, and Nya meet Quinn, helping him settle into Domum Deorum. Nya reveals to Quinn that the Siblings of Pandora each have a special kinesis. Lily uncovers more about Quinn’s identity and asks for Evangelines help.
20. Mayflower meets Juniper and Quinn. Quinn tells Pandora that he knows about the siblings. She looks into his past to be sure he isn’t threatening them. He explains his frustration of feeling like he knows Pandora. Quinn then tells her he wants to do more to help, and asks to learn Alchemy to do so. Pandora hesitantly agrees.
21. Natia grows tired from doing Ophelia’s commission, having not slept for 72 hours. She thinks about her mother’s death and breaks down. Only after Warrick tells her to sleep does she do so. Natia has a strange dream and wakes up, translating the Gods language blueprints somehow and discovering a shocking piece of Ophelia’s plan.
Favorite blurb this week (Rough Draft):
She was standing in her mother’s garden, looking out at her bustling town. The sky was orange and pink and purple and the sun was high in the sky.
Natia breathed it all in, felt the colors on her tongue like water. She tasted them, their sweetness, and swallowed them whole. They went down her throat, smooth as colors should be. Her hair was loose, dipping down to her collar bones. The sun caught the strands just perfectly enough to turn the usually plain brown strands gold.
“You seem to be enjoying yourself.” Her mom appeared at her side. While Natia’s skin had barely tanned through the summer, her mother’s skin was naturally the color of fall leaves and orange amber. She had hair like tar--so dark and smooth that it flowed carelessly in the wind. And her eyes. That was the one thing Natia had inherited from her mom: eyes the color of black coffee, eyes that did not turn to honey in the sunlight but rather red elderberries that had been smashed into the dirt, of dried blood on concrete. Dark eyes.
“I’ve always been more of a Fall person,” Natia explained. Her mom nodded.
“I know, little sparrow.” Little sparrow. That was her nickname for Natia. She had almost forgotten. “Do you still have what I gave to you?” Without saying anything Natia reached into her pocket and pulled out the small box she kept there. It was about the size of her hand. The wood was olive, making it beautiful and unique, and in the sunlight, Natia could see the seven bone inlaid symbols on the top. There was a blank spot in the wood, unblemished and unmarked. Empty and waiting.
“Oh good,” her mom said. Natia offered it to her but she shook her head. She smiled up at her, and Natia suddenly saw something not so human in her mother’s eyes. “Keep it. You will need it, little sparrow.” Natia stilled. That wasn’t her mom’s voice. It was deep and crackled like wood in a fire. Like bones in a fire.
Natia tried to back away, but her foot caught on something and she fell backwards. And she kept falling, the sky and earth stretching out above her until she was going cross-eyed trying to understand the change in the landscape. At last, she landed. Her fingers squeezed the grass below her as she twisted onto her stomach, groaning. Natia looked up.
Her gaze caught on the sun and moon, both of them gazing down at her. Then she heard it. A ticking, like a clock. She glanced behind her to try and figure out what it was. When she did she saw the grass twisting, moving up and down, up and down. Tilting her head. Natia tried to understand what it was that made the shifting so strange.
Not until her feet began to sink into it did she realize it wasn’t grass. She gasped and clawed at the dirt. The water grabbed at her ankles, trying to pull her beneath the surface. Natia closed her eyes, concentrating on holding on.
Tik. Tik. Tik. Tik. Tik. Tik.
She held on tighter as the water lapped further up. Her eyes opened and she looked up towards the sky. In perfect synchronization with the ticking, the sun and moon were approaching one another. Tik. The moon began to overlap the sun. Tik. Light tried to fight past the shadows, but it was being caged, trapped inside the darkness. Tik. The moon completely eclipsed the sun.
Natia didn’t close her eyes, didn’t prepare for the next tik that would allow the blinding light back in. She stared up and waited, but the tik never came.
Her eyes locked onto the moon, the water still trying to coax her in. Natia narrowed her eyes. The eclipse didn’t end, but somehow it seemed like the moon was getting bigger in the darkness. Expanding.
“What?” Natia wondered out loud. The moon offered no answers. Instead, it just kept growing, blocking more and more light as it did so. Then, right on the edge, Natia swore she--
Glass shattered, blowing out around her. At last Natia saw it wasn't a moon. She didn't know what it was. All she knew was to finally let the waves take her under.
The water dragged her lower, the glass above turning to fire as she sank. Natia held her breath. Somehow she knew the water wouldn't be allowing her back to the surface.
