Brittle searched his goddess’s face as she worriedly searched his own. A mix of relief, sorrow, and rage built inside of him. The clouds of green, crystallized particles, still frozen in the air, burned a little hotter. “Now?” he said as blistering tears trickled from his hollow eyes. “Now you’re here? After everything?”
Mara couldn’t have come sooner? Before the deranged baddie tripped on his sword? Before the jailbreak? Or Rochelle’s arrest? Or, better yet, had never left in the first place? So what if she’d stepped in at the last moment? Was Brittle supposed to be grateful for that? How could he when all of this was her fault to begin with!
Mara’s expression was pained and drained of color. She lurched forward, as if to sweep Brittle up into her arms and hold him close, but reconsidered. Maybe it was the anger in his eyes or her own overwhelming guilt but, for whatever reason, the goddess’s hurried steps slowed to a stop paces from him. Unsure of what to do with her trembling hands, Mara clasped them in front of her.
“Why now?” Brittle demanded.
“A goddess is not omnipotent, little one,” Mara said softly. “I didn’t know.”
“Then how are you here?”
“You brought me here.”
“I did?” That didn’t seem right. Brittle searched his brain for answers but came up regrettably empty. “How? And don’t spin me some yarn about the power of prayer, because I know by now those don’t work!”
“I…I don’t know. I felt something pull from my powers and the next thing I knew, I was here.” Mara’s solemn gaze traveled past Brittle and settled on the still form of the sheriff. Her lips pulled down along the edges. “I think there may be more of me in you than we realized.”
Brittle shot to his feet, shoulders bristled in anger. It was one thing to dance around his question without providing any actual answers, but he drew the line at being accused of something he definitely didn’t do. “That wasn’t me! I didn’t kill him.”
Mara stared back at him with sad eyes and said nothing.
“I warned him to stay back. That’s it! That’s all I did! And then he kept coming anyway, and there was all this green in the air, and my bark felt hot and…” Brittle’s explanation trailed once realizing it didn’t make any more sense spoken out loud than it did in his head.
Mara wasn’t any help, either. Whereas she should have assured Brittle that he was utterly blameless and perfect in each and every way, she didn’t. She merely chewed her lower lip as a myriad of thoughts darted behind her dark eyes. “I’m sorry, Brittle. I asked Edvin not to tell you. I thought we had more time. I didn’t realize the changes were already beginning to take effect.”
Brittle shouldn’t have been surprised. Of course Mara knew about the changes! He wiped a hand under his nose with a sniff, desperately trying to stuff the spark of betrayal flickering within him deep down out of sight forever. “I didn’t have to be told. I figured it out on my own.”
“Did you?”
“It’s puberty.”
“Oh.”
“It’s horrible. I hate it.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, little one. The truth is, I still don’t know the extent of what is taking place between you and me. I suspect only the fates know, leaving the rest of us scrambling to piece it together on our own.” Mara settled onto the ground. She patted the patch of moss beside her, her eyes wide and hopeful, as some of the color returned to her face. “You’re owed an explanation and I should be the one to give it to you. Come, sit. I won’t be able to hold the time spell for much longer, so we’ll have to make this quick.”
Brittle studied the glowing green specks that hovered in the air around them. With everything going on, he’d somehow forgotten that the forest was frozen in time around them, Rochelle included. “You’re the one doing this?”
“I am.”
He felt a bit relieved by that. Perhaps if Mara was responsible for stopping time, then maybe Sheriff Rodrick’s demise was her doing as well. Sure, he may have been the one to summon her, but falling on a sword seemed up her alley, not his. Something in the pit of Brittle’s stomach churned, insisting otherwise. Cautiously, like a stray dog that’d learned to be wary of strangers the hard way, Brittle slunk closer. He sat in a spot of his own choosing several feet from Mara with his knees pulled to his chest.
Mara wasted no time. She launched into her explanation, starting with the very thing Brittle had spent the last several months trying so hard to forget. “Wiping all traces of Gabor from existence did not come without consequence. Some were expected, like the upset it caused amongst my fellow gods and goddesses, for one. But others caught everyone by surprise.”
She lifted her hand and a dark thread of magic wove into the air above her thin fingers. Mara stared at it, enraptured by the dancing weave of shadow. “As it turns out, even the most powerful deity cannot remove someone from existence, they can only substitute one name in the annals of history for another. Unbeknownst to me, the spell I used to destroy Gabor replaced his name with my own. Everything that human-kind once attributed to him, now belongs to me.
“I have more power than I know what to do with. The first months were the hardest. My powers were in a constant state of flux, worsening each day. I kept my distance to protect you.” Mara closed her hand into a fist and the thread of magic disappeared. Her gaze traveled back to Brittle, looking sadder than before. “I feared I would lose control and hurt you. Leaving you in the care of those I trusted was the best way to protect both of us.”
Mara didn’t seem to grasp that trust and competence were entirely different qualities, and that one did not always go hand-in-hand the other. Brittle didn’t say this, of course. His expression must have betrayed his stance on the matter because Mara actually paused midway through her explanation to deliver a leveling glare. “They were the best option, alright?”
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Brittle held his tongue.
“Fine. Edvin and Thom were my only option.” She sighed, head sagging against her chest. “I didn’t realize the shift in power was affecting you too, little one. I’m sorry. I wish I could have been here to help you through it.”
“I don’t see what you could have done,” Brittle said, still trying to come across as disinterested. As much as he missed Mara, he was equally as angry at her and couldn’t decide whether he wanted to hug his goddess or scream at her for abandoning him. “Thom says you can’t fight puberty.”
“It’s not puberty, Brittle. Your body is changing, yes, but not in that way. You’re a demigod. These changes are the start of your powers.”
“A demigod?” Oh dear. Sometime during her absence, Mara had gone and lost her blooming mind. Convincing her otherwise would require a calm, reasonable approach. As Brittle had neither the time nor patience for such things, he merely increased his volume to emphasize his point. “I’m not a demigod, I’m a bog log beast! And I’m barely even good at that!”
“You died, Brittle.”
He didn’t see what that had to do with being a demigod.
Sensing his confusion, Mara expanded on her sentiment. “Nobody comes back from death unless there’s something very special about them.”
Brittle’s thoughts ran like wild horses in multiple directions as he considered Mara’s explanation. Unfortunately none of the thoughts returned, leaving his hollow head with more questions than answers.
“Amaia, Goddess of the End, thinks you’re the demigod of good luck,” Mara continued. She and Brittle traded looks before the goddess rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Oh, believe me, I know. The Demigod of Luck being born of the Goddess of Ill-Fortunate. The fates are ironic like that, I’m afraid.”
“Do you think I’m good luck?”
Mara shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what I believe. It’s up to you. The next few years, the life you live, the choices you make, all of those will shape the path your powers take. Maybe it will be for good. Maybe it won’t. Only time will tell.”
“Cop-out,” Brittle muttered.
She turned on him, mouth held agape in disbelief. “Excuse me?”
“You,” he clarified. “Your answer. Obviously you suspect something’s gone wrong because not only did I bring you here, but apparently I did that too.” Brittle pointed at Sheriff Rodrick’s dead body.
Mara’s face went pale once more.
Admittedly, he hadn’t been sure Sheriff Rodrick’s demise had been his doing. Not until now, at least. Mara’s reaction was all the proof Brittle needed to confirm his theory. The noxious churning in his stomach doubled its efforts. “That doesn’t look like good luck to me.”
Mara hung her head and sighed. “It’s not always so black and white, you know. If you can grant good luck, I suppose it’s not a stretch to assume you can take it away just as easily.”
It was a valiant effort, but Mara’s attempts to make him feel better fell flat on their face regardless. Brittle looked away, too ashamed to meet her eye. He would have taken puberty over this a thousand times over.
Mara placed her hand on his arm to garner his attention. She tilted her head at Rochelle and smiled softly. “On the other hand, one could argue that this young lady here experienced a bout of exceptionally good luck when her attacker fell upon his sword at the last moment. You protected her when no one else could. That’s something, isn’t it?”
He supposed that was partially true. Still, Brittle couldn’t help but feel something was wrong. Accidental or not, taking a life changed you. The world was beginning to harden him beyond repair, for real this time, and there wasn’t a thing a wee bog log beast could do to stop it. He may not have been fully grown yet, but this was the closest he’d ever been and Brittle found himself missing his youthful innocence already.
Amongst the competing emotions raging inside of him, Brittle noticed a stark lack of mournfulness regarding the sheriff. He wondered if that was normal. Worse yet, he wondered if that made him bad. Good people didn’t kill others, they found other ways. And yet, he couldn’t think of one he would have tried. He remembered the mad gleam in Sheriff Rodrick’s eyes and how the man would have stopped at nothing until Rochelle was dead. If good people killed bad people, did it make them bad too?
Brittle wasn’t given the chance to ask Mara. The undergrowth stirred as something moved swiftly in their direction, with twigs and dried pine needles crunching loudly underfoot. Mara stood, hands held in front of her, as she waited for the intruder to reveal themselves. Seconds later, the brush parted and Lastar came crashing through at a full sprint. With a yelp of surprise, the demigod threw himself sideways and skidded to a successful stop.
Too frightened to complain about his rough and tumble landing, Lastar slowly picked himself up. His stupefied gaze swept from side to side, taking it all in at once: the frozen forest, the frozen girl, Brittle, and the dark-cloaked woman standing at the center of it all. He stared wide-eyed at Mara for several breaths before his nerves threw in the towel.
Defeated, Lastar’s gaze averted to the forest floor and settled on something only slightly less terrifying – the still form of the sheriff. “Is he…”
“Dead,” Mara assured him.
Lastar opened his mouth to ask a follow-up question but thought better of it.
Mara narrowed her eyes at him. “From your racing heart, I suspect you know who I am, yes?”
Lastar nodded miserably, screwing his eyes shut as he waited for the worst.
Mara stepped closer. The kindness slipped from her face with each painstakingly slow step. “Which would make you the agent sent by my fellow gods and goddesses to find me. I suppose congratulations are in order.”
“Mara, no!” Brittle jumped up and raced ahead of her, placing himself between them. “Lastar’s not like that! Not Anymore! He swore off it. Said it wasn’t worth the cost.”
“I’m not going to harm him, Brittle.”
Lastar’s eyes snapped back open. “You’re not?”
“No. In fact, I want you to finish what you came here to do. Gather your information and make your report. Tell the others exactly what took place today. In case there were any lingering doubts amongst my fellow deities, today serves as proof that I will protect what is mine at any cost.” Mara gestured to Sheriff Rodrick without lifting her blazing eyes from Lastar’s cowering form. “Be sure to tell them that if they use Brittle to get to me again, it will be a decision they regret for the rest of their lives, however short those may be.”
Lastar nodded again.
“Good.” Mara turned to Brittle and crouched until they were eye-to-eye. She reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder. “It was good to see you again. I’m sorry it was under such unfortunate circumstances.”
Brittle could feel the angry tears starting up a second time. “You’re leaving again, aren’t you?”
“You pulled from my powers to bring me here. That too, had consequences. It sent out a ripple amongst the cosmos that could be felt by every deity in existence. It won’t be long before others come to investigate.” Mara’s face did that pitiful thing where she made a well-intended smile look miserable. “It would be in everyone’s best interests if I wasn’t here when they arrive. I’m sorry.”
“What happens to me?” Brittle asked.
“The same thing as last time, I’m afraid. You pick up and move somewhere else, try again. Whatever happens, promise me you’ll never stop being you. Over-dramatics and all.” Mara opened her arms for a hug. Brittle was hesitant at first, but his emotions got the better of him and he found himself diving into her open arms. She held him, whispering, “I’m so sorry. This isn’t what I wanted for you either. I’ll come for you as soon as I can, I promise.”