âAria.â
She ignored Achiâs call. The motion of her leg was keeping her sane, but only barely.
âAria, listen to me. I have a fail-safe. If you ever come within sight of my father, youâll die. Itâs drastic, but you will never fall into his hands. Never.â
She shook her head âHe will detect the spell before he comes near me and remove it.â
âYou donât have to worry about that.â He sounded so certain, it was infuriating.
âAnd why not?â
âYou simply donât.â
âThat is not good enough.â
They stared at each other for several moments.
Finally, he sighed. âBecause, in a few days, he wonât be in any state to do anything to you. Iâm going to die. He is going to be miserable and nearly powerless. His power exists primarily to protect me. Without me to protect, heâll barely have enough energy to sustain himself.â
âI-â Aria fought down her shock. It had almost overwhelmed her fear, but only for a few moments. âHis need for revenge will drive him.â
Achi shook his head, his expression sober now. âHe is a god of love. Love drives him. His desire for justice is secondary and does not generate power. I power him. With me gone, he will be less powerful than you.â
She scoffed at that, but Achiâs expression was serious. âYou are a ghost. You have the ability to manipulate the world around you. The only thing that typically limits ghosts is the power at their disposal. Lift the roof.â
She gave him a skeptical look, but obeyed, willing the roof to rise off the houseâs frame. To her shock, it did so with ease.
He was not finished. âChop down every tree from here to the edge of my protection.
The trees fell, as easily as a pile of rocks tumbling down. She gaped in horror at the sight of hundreds of trees rolling down in their direction. With a wave from Achi, however, every one of them stopped and resumed their position as part of their respective plants. They were, however, missing several branches.
She stared out the window at the scene she had caused with only a thought. âIâm a god!â
Achi snorted. âHardly. Youâre a ghost. But the power youâre surviving on is borrowed from my father. It retains all its potency. You have a limited amount - about eighty years if you use it sparingly - but it will be more than my father will have after my death. He wonât have enough power to wrest my protection from you.â
She grappled with the implications. âI have the power of a god. How am I not a god?â
He seemed thoroughly amused by her question. It was irritating. âEnergy,â he said flatly. âPlants need it to grow. Mortals need it to thrive. Mortal souls need it in a different form to hold themselves together. When you were alive, you gained it naturally. I donât know where it comes from, but itâs like sunlight, radiating through the universe. If you were in an afterlife, you would gain it from your god. Be thankful you didnât remain in Tiveloâs vault. He barely feeds the souls there. Ghosts, however, have no source of energy. They survive on themselves, cannibalizing their own minds until they disintegrate. Iâve been sustaining you with my own energy - gained from my father. When I gave you a body, I also transferred some energy into it. But, like all ghosts, you have no ability to gain some by yourself. That is what separates a ghost from a god. You can perform all the miracles you want, but you will eventually run out. â
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âSo, I just need to find out how to gain more power.â
He shook his head with an infuriating smile. âYou cannot. You are not a god. You are a ghost. Here, take Garo as an example. Garo was a warrior captured by an enemy tribe. Their magicians used him as a storehouse. They stored their energy in him - the kind souls live off - and then drained him of it to power their spells. It made it possible for them to use more powerful spells than their enemies. It was a brutal process that he lived through over and over again, being drained and refilled and drained and refilled. He was the only one of their storehouses to survive for a year. By the end of that year, his soul had so adapted to the process that it could no longer use ambient energy. He was technically dead. But they continued to use him. Finally, he began absorbing the energy they stored in him and learning to use it. Once he was powerful enough, he killed them all and drained the energy from their souls. Today, that is the only form of energy he can utilize: the kind that comes from human bodies. He now survives on the energy emitted when mortals are killed in his domain. His soul is something more than a mere mortal soul now. It is a damaged cauldron only capable of detecting and absorbing the energy released by death.â
Aria shivered.
âYouâve suffered, but you have not suffered nearly enough to undergo that sort of transformation. Your soul is still human. If I return you to the afterlife, you will thrive under whatever deity you are compatible with. But I could kill a thousand mortals in front of you and you would never be able to absorb energy from them. You are damaged, but you have not become a different species. And you should not hope for that. Someday, someone will have to put Garo down. I donât know what will become of him but his end will be nothing like a normal humanâs.
âEvera -â He shook his head. âEvera is another long story. The point is, you are still as far from godhood as you were last week. Anything you can do now, you do with the energy I put into you. Donât waste it playing goddess. It is for your survival and as a last resort for your protection. I wonât be around to replenish it for you.â
Aria could already see holes in his narrative. She could receive energy from others. He had proven it by giving her some. She simply had no constant, reliable source. She was as immortal as every other deity, as long as she found a source of power. Hunger filled her at the thought. But soon, her fear returned and turned it all to ash.
Did she truly believe that she had defeated Tivelo? The god who made both Garo and Evera bow? Even if he would be powerless after Achiâs death, there was still time to ruin her before then. And did she truly intend to let Achi die? He had been even kinder to her than Evera. He thought she was killing him and ruining his father, yet he had insulted his father to aid her. How would she live knowing that his death had saved her life? She was certain of her innocence, but it would be little comfort if he died and she lived on, drunk on power that he had given her.
Achi rose. âAnd, as I said, the energy you have now is my fatherâs. It is more powerful than others. Even if you can beg power from other gods, they will be nowhere near as capable. Consider that before you dream too much. I need to rest.â
He was shivering and had been for several minutes, she realized.
âAre you cold?â She asked.
He ignored her and walked toward the doorway. Rather than walk, she exerted a tiny bit of power and transported herself to the door. He stopped a moment before colliding with her. Before he could protest, she pressed a palm to his forehead and found it burning hot.
He eyed her. âStupid. Go and waste your power somewhere else. Iâm going to sleep.â
She followed him up the stairs. âTell me about your illness.â
His relapses were sudden and confusing. One minute, he was strong and lively. The next, he was swaying on his feet. What kind of poison could do that?â
âCausing me distress is another way to draw my father here. And asking annoying questions distresses me. When I wake, weâll discuss where to hide you. For now, just let me be.â
She fell back, still watching with her powers as he retreated to the bedroom.