Returning to Tivelo’s palace was odd. The invisible doorways and black corridors no longer seemed so magical. The army of attendants was gone, giving the place an eerie feel. Tivelo waited for them in his main hall. There, Chalik, Alogun, Evera, and - annoyingly - Garo stood in stiff poses, watching Achi and Aria arrive.
“Why is Garo alive?” Achi asked as they entered.
Tivelo’s eyes flicked over to Garo and then back to Achi. “Why would he be dead,” Tivelo asked, “when life is so much more painful?”
To Garo’s credit, the cold threat received no reaction from him.
Aria waited several feet away from the others, while Achi went up to the dais and engaged Tivelo in silent conversation. At one point, Evera shot a smile at her, but she ignored it. Aria strained to hear Achi’s conversation, but their moving lips seemed to produce no sound. They stood far apart, both holding still postures, like lovers forced to converse during a long argument.
After a few minutes, Achi turned to the audience.
“My father has decided to pardon you,” He said.
A wave of relief went through the watching deities.
“Actually,” Alogun said, “Evera was not included in the agreement.”
“Nonetheless, she is included in the pardon,” Achi said. “As far as I can tell, she actually tried to remedy her mistakes.”
“She did nothing until it was over,” Chalik said. “She was likely hoping to hide and ingratiate herself with whoever the victor was. It was cowardice, not remorse.”
“Please, shut up,” Achi said.
That shocked Chalik into silence.
“As I was saying,” Achi said. “The list of pardons is explicit. You are pardoned for the following crimes: plotting my death, executing that plot, negatively modifying the entire mortal population, harming Aria, causing the deaths of millions of mortals, and causing untold destruction to the three realms. If you have committed any crimes beyond those, confess them now and be properly punished.”
Naturally, no one confessed. Aria glanced at Tivelo. It should not have escaped him that he was guilty of most of the actions he was pardoning the others for, but he gave no sign that he recognized the irony.
It pays to be powerful.
“In that case,” Achi said, “there are a few more announcements. My father will be taking a vacation. While he is away, I will technically have control over you. Unfortunately, I have a wedding to prepare and no time to police adults ten times my age. So, this is what we will do. Effective immediately, any deity I deem insufficiently moral will be stripped of his domain and authority. That includes the four of you. You will find that all of your abilities are now non-functional. That includes your immortality. Do not go falling off any cliffs if you want to continue living.”
Everyone but Tivelo gaped at him.
“You cannot!” Chalik said. “This violates the agreement.”
“No, Chalik,” Achi fixed her with a glare. “It does not. My father has always planned to give me control and I have always planned to strip you lot of your powers. Your agreement was that Aria would order me to order my father to pardon you. She has done so and will now repeat the order for your hearing.”
Aria looked pointedly at Achi and said, ”you are hereby ordered to order Tivelo to pardon this sorry group.”
“There,” Achi turned back to Chalik. “That matter is settled. If you want your powers back, beg Aria to order me to return them. You are dismissed.”
They disappeared immediately, leaving Aria alone with Achi and Tivelo. Achi teleported back to Aria’s side and put an arm around her.
“I know it’s not enough - “
“Actually, it’s perfect.” She smiled. “The coming year will be beyond entertaining.”
“I won’t let them bother you -”
“Don’t you dare. Garo on his knees begging for his powers back, I want to see that every day for the rest of my life. Build on that success,” she shot a meaningful glance at Tivelo, “and you’ll quickly climb my list of suitors.”
“List, huh?”
“Haven’t you heard? I’m a goddess. They’ll be beating down the door before morning.”
Achi chuckled, steering her toward the doorway as he did so.
“Wait,” Tivelo said.
Achi continued walking, but Aria stopped, forcing him to do the same.
Achi looked askance at her.
“I may not be the goddess of wisdom,” she said, “but I know how family disagreements work. You want to speak to him. Do so. Don’t use me as the reason for your estrangement. I can fight my own battles.”
“I don’t want to speak with him.”
“Fine. But blame me later.”
“Actually,” Tivelo said. “It’s you I need to speak with, Aria.”
Both Aria and Achi turned to him, Aria with an incredulous stare, Achi with annoyance.
This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.
Tivelo smiled. In the current mood, the action seemed both incongruous and annoying.
“I don’t need to talk to Achi,” Tivelo said. “We know each other. He knows why I did what I did and I know why it angered him. He will forgive me because it is not in his nature to hold a grudge for long, and I will always regret needing to hurt him. But any words between us now would be heated for no purpose.”
Achi looked angrier than Aria had ever seen him. He opened his mouth, paused, and then closed it.
He turned away from his father, dismissal in his posture.
“I will wait outside,” he said.
Aria watched until he disappeared through the doorway, and then turned to Tivelo. He was still staring in his son’s direction, a tired and pained expression on his face. Aria felt no sympathy. Her rage was no longer debilitating, but her hatred for him was real.
Tivelo inspected her, sweeping from head to toe, and making her feel self-conscious.
“What do you want?” She asked.
He seemed disappointed by something, but he kept it to himself. Instead, he stretched out a hand and a plain wooden box appeared in it. The box was large enough to require two arms for support, but he balanced it on one palm with ease.
After waiting for a while, Aria sighed her irritation and accepted the box. With one hand, she held it against her chest and with the other, removed its top. There was no latch. It simply swung open on its hinge to reveal two metal bracers.
She turned a querying glare on Tivelo.
“I believe you are an archer,” he said.
“I didn’t specialize,” Aria said.
“But you prefer archery.” he gestured at the box. “I gave Achi a ring, but I suspect that you would prefer these. They are an extra layer of protection. They will protect you from any obvious harm and give you access to my power should you ever need it.”
Aria released the box, expecting it to drop to the ground, but it remained floating in mid-air.
“Consider it a gift to Achi,” TIvelo said. “A love-bound god has one unending fear. This will ease it for him.”
“He can protect me,” Aria said. “And I have my own powers.”
“No one is infallible,” Tivelo said, “Achi has millennia before his abilities rival mine. Keep it. Even if you decide not to wear it, you will at least have the choice.”
He turned to leave. This time, it was Aria who stopped him.
“Is that it?” She asked “You terrorize me, torture me, kill me, and then you give me a gift? Am I supposed to accept this, and, what, thank you?”
“No need for thanks,” Tivelo said, still walking away.
Before she could think, Aria spawned a line of fire in the corridor ahead of him, blocking his path. He stopped and slowly turned to face her. Achi appeared the next moment, glanced from her to his father, and then teleported to her side. He put a hand on her shoulder but she shrugged it away.
“Tell me why I should not level this place and then do the same to every one of your temples,” she said.
“Because it will not sate your anger, only grow it.” His tone was full of suppressed amusement.
Aria’s rage flared, but Achi stepped between them. “Let’s leave,” he said. “He’s not worth it.”
No statement had ever been so false.
“Step aside Achi,” Tivelo said. “I know how to de-escalate this.”
Achi didn’t move.
“Seriously, love,” Tivelo said. “Move aside. If she explodes again, it will take more than your death to calm her down.” Achi slid out of the way as if pushed by an invisible hand.
“Aria,” Tivelo said. “You believe I insulted you, and you are correct. I apologize. Everyone around me is either younger than me or stupider than me, so I tend to treat them all like children. They typically accept the treatment, so it has become a terrible habit. Despite that, I did not mean to insult you. I simply prefer not to have pointless conversations. And trying to explain yourself to a vengeful deity is the definition of pointless.”
Aria could not tell whether to feel mollified or doubly insulted.
“However,” Tivelo said, “since refusing now would annoy you more, here is my explanation. Do you know the meaning of your name?”
Aria blinked at the sudden twist. “It’s a musical term.”
“And do you know how you received it?”
“From my parents. They consulted a priest.”
“And he, a priest of Garo, named you after music?”
That sounded as ridiculous from his lips as it did in her mind.
“Don’t lead me with crumbs,” Aria said. “I’m not an animal.”
“Listen,” Tivelo said.
He fell silent, forcing Aria to listen to the sounds around them. There was nothing; the wind, rustling trees, and the soft rippling of the lake outside, but nothing to speak of.
Aria felt suddenly suspicious. “Are you playing with me?”
Tivelo shook his head, his lips fighting more amusement. “No,” he said. “Listen closely. If you listen well enough, you can hear it, the song that the whole universe sings. Every blade of grass, every fish in the sea, every footstep. They combine into one unending harmony. Every time I hear it, I see the future they reach toward. I see that there is a future at all. I named you after that song, because you were that future. None of us had any hope without you. If he could not have you, Achi would have died of grief. I would have died as well. Without me, the others would have destroyed our world - even if my power wasn’t the only thing holding it together. The song could only continue if you lived.
“I gave you that name so that every time Achi begged me, every time he spoke your name and pleaded with me to spare you and let him die, I would remember. I would hear the song and remember not to give in.
“To you, what you suffered is unjustifiable. I have no desire to argue that fact with you. I have no wish to impose on you at all. Go with Achi. He’ll heal you. He can heal anything.
“And since we are on this topic, here is my second gift.”
He stretched out his hand again and a dagger appeared in it, a plain thing with a steel blade and a wooden handle.
“This one is a promise,” he said. “One century from today, I’ll come to you. And if you still believe that I wronged you, that dagger will kill me. I’m sure you’ll treasure it.”
He turned to leave, paused, and turned back to her.
“And, lest you have the wrong impression. I could have been slightly less horrible to you. And I would have been if you hadn’t had the temerity to poison my son. So, yes, my actions served a dual purpose. You treasure your life so much; you should know that his is no less precious to me.”
With that, he walked down the corridor away from them, until he disappeared through a doorway at its end.
“Now you see,” Achi said. “You can’t reason with him. You didn’t create the world and somehow he thinks it’s justifiable to lay all the penalty for saving it on you.”
Aria said nothing.
Achi pulled her closer. “Let’s go,” he said.
As they left, she considered all the words that Tivelo had kept to himself, his obvious belief that they would eventually appreciate his choice, his clear love for his son, and his grief at what he had done.
And to her fury, she found herself softening toward him.
She leaned into Achi’s embrace as they went. “I want to buy a castle.”
“Another one?” He said. “That’s fine, I suppose.”
“Not any castle. There’s a queen who was very rude to me once. If only she had known, eh?”
Achi, like the softie he was, didn’t consider cold revenge a fun activity, but it was just what Aria needed.