“What is it?” Cain asked as he shrugged his cloak off in the entryway.
Ezra had known the god for an eternity, since before Cain had even been able to make a full transformation. Back when his mind, spirit, and body were barely more than a cub’s. Back then he’d been small enough for the old yokai to hold in the palms of his hands. Now, even in his animal form, he towered over the old yokai.
“Your Grace, did you receive word from Yukihiro that the human woke last evening?”
Cain paused, glancing back over his shoulder at Ezra with a look the old yokai couldn’t read. ”I did.” His amber eyes narrowed faintly, his ears swiveling backwards. “And?”
“He was quite cross with you, Your Grace.”
“So release him back to his own quarters like I said. Give him what he asks for,” Cain said, his tail flicking with irritation. “It shouldn’t be difficult.”
“Your Grace, about that…” Ezra began, maintaining as neutral an expression as he could. “He refused to be relocated.”
“...” Cain’s ears twitched.
Ezra’s master had always been a man of few words. Even as a much younger god, when his mind and spirit were little more than a cub’s, Cain had been a solemn little thing. He’d always preferred to be off on his own, far away from others. It had never been uncommon for Ezra to have to go hunting for his young liege after days of Cain’s absenteeism, only to find the cub curled up deep within the mountain caves.
Cain had always had a way of separating himself from the rest of the world. He was no different now, except Ezra could no longer scoop him and drag him back home. All the old yokai could do now was to push his master to live up to his role. This was part of that.
“He’s currently still in your quarters. He was quite clear that he doesn’t intend to leave until he’s gotten what he wanted.”
“So give him what he wants,” Cain said flatly, his ears flattening against his skull as his amber gaze narrowed icily.
“Your Grace, I’m fairly certain that what the human wants is a word with you.” It was only years of knowing Cain that kept the old yokai from flinching when his master’s response was a low, creeping growl. “Master Cain,” Ezra said, keeping his voice even and controlled. “This isn’t something that can be avoided forever.”
“Ezra. You already overplayed your hand when you brought that human to my chamber. Don’t push it.” Cain’s amber gaze flashed with warning, the air around him shifting charges of the deity’s chillingly oppressive power.
“What would you have done otherwise, Your Grace?” Ezra asked, maintaining an even gaze. “You needed the mana. You would have left him in the snow if you didn’t.”
“That wasn’t your call to make, Ezra,” his master growled. “Do you even know what kind of position you put me in? What if the human realized what was happening?”
“I do,” Ezra said evenly. “You needed the help, Your Grace. The sooner he understands your condition, the better he can help you manage it.”
“You know how hard we’ve worked to keep this curse a secret—the lengths that we’ve gone to to make sure there are no witnesses we can’t trust.”
“What good is trust if you’re dead?” Ezra asked. “How long would it have taken you to recover if you were alone? How much longer do you think you can keep this up?”
“It wasn’t your call to make. Let me handle my own affairs.”
“With respect, Master Cain, your loathing of mankind is clouding your judgment. The young Astraeus is an asset. You should use him to the fullest.”
“Ezra,” Cain ground out. “I know that. I just need time.”
“For what?”
“To—” Cain broke off with an exasperated sigh. “Can you just stop questioning me, old man? I’ll deal with the human when I’m ready to.”
“With due respect, Master Cain, in my experience, left to your own devices you would avoid the matter of the human indefinitely.”
“And? What of it? That’s my right.”
“Why take in such a valuable resource only for it to collect dust? The twins would have enjoyed feasting on his mana core, and that would at least have served some purpose.” Ezra sighed when Cain wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Why did you bring him here? You need help, Cain. You know you do. This is beyond what you can handle. If you keep going like this, it won’t be long before what’s left of your power disappears—and you with it.”
“I’m keeping up with things just fine. I have a handle on it.”
Ezra leveled him with a flat look.
“I may have had to make the necessary sacrifices to keep the territory in working order, but I’m not so weak that I’m near my end just yet.”
Ezra kept a firm handle on his expression. Even for him, it was an effort to school his expression back into one of careful neutrality. He’d known Cain since his master was nothing more than a weak, pitiful cub. His lord had been prone to tantrums in his youth, but even in the throes of the young god’s worst moods Ezra’s life had never been endangered.
It was a reminder he held onto, resisting the instincts within him that urged him to flee–sensing danger.
In a way, Ezra was proud to see how far his master had come. He’d come into his own, now a much stronger, more hardy being than Ezra could have imagined he would ever grow into. That frail little thing had become a beast in his own right, capable of inspiring fear even in the old yokai that had raised him.
“Your Grace, I would make the same choice if given the chance.” Ezra lowered himself, kneeling on the cold stone floor even as the cold grip of fear twisted his stomach into knots. “It is the first time I’ve seen you recover in such a short span of time. We both know you can’t keep going like this; it’s only a matter of time before word about your condition gets out. If this curse doesn’t eventually kill you, the other gods will.”
“Have you forgotten who I am?” Cain asked, his eyes flashing with indignation. “Do you really think that court of syncophants who live in luxury stand a chance against the God of Retribution? I’ll cut them down where they stand.”
“Of course I haven’t, Master Cain. But I fear you may be forgetting how dire your circumstances are. Should they catch you on a day when the curse flares up… we both know you wouldn’t be in any condition to hold your sword, let alone fight.” Ezra shook his head. “My only concern is your safety and survival.”
“Ezra,” Cain warned, his tail swishing with agitation.
The old yokai bowed his head, suppressing his instinctive desire to flinch and shrink back.
The intimidating figure his master cut, still awe-inspiring even in his human form, was a reflection of his hard work–a solid foundation of hard-won muscle and countless battle-born scars that served as a testament to his strength. In the Spirit Realm, few had the chance to grow into fully-fledged kami. The young and weak were poached and consumed for their spiritual power, but Cain had survived long enough to become an imposing figure himself.
And so his master may have been older, stronger, and even more volatile, but Ezra still believed that Cain wouldn’t punish him harshly for looking after his best interests.
“You need his mana, Your Grace. You can use him to regulate the land’s mana when you can not and to supplement your own when it grows weak,” Ezra said, keeping his head down and his gaze focused on the floor at his master’s feet. “Pride isn’t worth dying for.”
“Who’s to say he even can?” Cain snorted. “I doubt a human’s body could withstand co-regulating the mana of an entire territory. It may very well be that harvesting him for his mana core is all he’s good for.”
“You say that, Your Grace, but if you believed that were true then you would have killed him and taken it already.”
“…”
“In any case, the human asked me to convey to you that if you would have him removed from your quarters, you must do so yourself.”
“You conniving old snake,” Cain muttered.
The dangerous charge in the air settled as his master’s threatening aura began to soften and subside. The fear hammering away in Ezra’s chest eased, replaced by a flood of relief. At his core, as Ezra had chosen to believe, his master remained unchanged.
“I am only relaying Master Astraeus’ words, Your Grace. Who am I to overrule my master’s spouse?”
“You say that, yet you have no difficulty overruling me.”
“That’s a different matter, Your Grace,” Ezra said, the faintest hint of fondness pulling at the corners of his lips. “Forgive this old man for continuing to look out for the cub he all but bottle-fed.”
Hours into the late afternoon, when the sun was beginning to droop in the sky, the bedroom finally door creaked open.
Noah nearly jumped out of his skin.
The hallways usually echoed with the footsteps of any passers-by, but this time there had been nothing to announce an impending arrival. Noah had been waiting for the room’s owner to return, but that didn’t stop him from being alarmed when the hulking figure of a man appeared like a phantom in the doorway. How was it possible for someone so big to make so little noise?
Noah clutched one hand to his chest to calm his racing heart. “You couldn’t at least knock–” the flustered shaman stopped short.
It may have been Noah’s first time seeing his husband’s figure in the light, but he recognized him immediately.
The man loomed like a statue.
Everything from his height, to the broad spread of his shoulders, to the muscle that was clearly visible from the drape of his charcoal robes and cinch of his belt felt oppressive and intimidating. His features were chiseled, all hard, masculine angles. He may have been handsome–albeit, rugged– but he had a distinctly rough look to him.
His thick tangle of silver hair curled wildly in all directions, the longest of the unharmonious locks curling just over his jaw and beneath the back collars of his robes. Its hue ranged from a pure, bright platinum to a muted gray.
“You’re awake.” The deity’s voice was the same low, deep rumble that Noah recognized from their first night.
And his eyes were still that same unmistakable, glowing amber–except this time, they were no longer glazed over with pain. Instead, they were focused intently on his own with an intensity that bordered on feral.
“You’re…” Noah trailed off.
The sole indication that the deity in front of him was a divine beast, his ears and tail, were both thickly furred and distinctly feline. His hair color was an echo of the same tell-tale gradient of silver to charcoal fur that tipped his ears and tail, except that they were spotted in a way that Noah recognized at a glance.
Another snow leopard? Noah’s brows furrowed in confusion.
It wasn’t unheard of that animal spirits could become kami–in fact, it was common enough–but a snow leopard was an unusual form for a divine beast to take. More typically enshrined were kitsune, wolves, or six-tailed cats.
“I’m what?”
“...you’re alive,” Noah finished. His expression shifted from flustered to frustrated, his lips pressing tightly together. “Though as to how you made it this far, I’m not sure.”
Comments (0)
See all