It was getting late. The town slowly faded into darkness as candles in the streets were put out one by one. The guards were growing sluggish, their postures slouched, their eyes barely holding vigilance. And the tent… it seemed unguarded.
A perfect opportunity.
But I couldn't shake this feeling.
The miracle worker's magic—there was something familiar about it. Almost like a power I had felt before, but no matter how I searched my memory, I couldn't place it.
Then, the Mongrath began to shake.
I opened the cursed book, and its pages flipped on their own, turning with an invisible force until they came to a sudden, jarring halt.
Chapter Fifteen: Information.
My brow furrowed. What is this book trying to tell me?
I scanned the chapter, rereading it carefully.
Vampires?
Unlikely. They do have great regenerative abilities, but their magic is self-serving. You'd have to be turned into a vampire to even benefit from it. Besides, their healing wouldn't cure the diseases I saw being lifted today.
Fey?
That's an option. The Fey have magic that could theoretically heal… but no Fey can escape the Feywild. And even if, by some impossible means, one did—no Fey would be this precise, this refined in their magic. Plus, with the Fey's "Magic is Always On" rule, my scars should have healed the moment I responded to him with "Heal me?"
Gods?
It would explain the raw power. But… no. Gods' magic is different from mortal magic. I had met Loki before, had even felt his power firsthand when I touched his daggers. This didn't feel like a god's touch. And yet… at the same time… it did.
Then it hit me.
Patrons.
Powerful beings—gods or otherwise—who grant their power to mortals.
Warlocks. Paladins.
Fuck.
This just got a lot harder.
If I killed this Gpdsworn, it would be as if I had killed myself, Thier patron would end my life.
But if they reached the king… My quest would take a detour I couldn't afford. Time spent stealing, running, and hiding was time I could be moving forward. Researching. Uncovering the truth.
Well… there was one thing I could do.
I drew sigils around the tent, their shapes glowing faintly before fading into invisibility.
Then, I stepped inside.
The healer sat in the same spot, completely still. They hadn't moved.
"I know what you are. A Godsworn."
They turned toward me slowly. Then, with deliberate grace, they reached for their mask and removed it, followed by their cloak.
It was a woman.
My mind raced. Every possible patron flashed through my head.
"Dark" gods? No. Healing the masses for no reason? That wasn't their style. Their followers—Godsworn—served with ulterior motives, not selfless acts.
The first patron that came to mind was Asclepius, god of health. But his Godsworn were always male.
"Who is your patron?"
She hesitated. Looked down. Confused. Then back at me.
"You didn—"
I cut her off with a sinister smile.
It didn't matter what she answered. I couldn't kill her. But I could scare her.
Maybe enough to keep her from going to the king.
"The Mark of Silence is on this tent," I said. "No sound in. No sound out. You can't call your patron."
Her eyes widened. She turned to run, but the sigils activated. The tent's cloth walls twisted, morphing into spiked vines that coiled toward her, blocking her exit.
"Who is your patron?"
I asked again getting closer to her holding my dagger
She looked terrified.
"Athena…" she murmured.
My blood ran cold.
Athena. Goddess of Wisdom.
I hadn't expected that. But this was bad.
Athena actually cared about her Godsworn. If she knew I had threatened one of her own, I was already dead.
I had to end this quickly.
"Listen to me," I said. "You're going to say you cannot heal the queen. That your magic is weak. That you just… have something else. I don't care how you do it. But if I see you going to the queen of the Dashin Empire, I will kill you."
She fell to the ground, trembling. Her eyes wide with terror.
But then—
I felt it.
Pure. God's magic.
The same raw power I had felt when I held Loki's daggers.
I spun around.
She stood tall, her eyes glowing purple. When she spoke, her voice was different. Purer. Holier.
It frightened me.
"Who are you to dare disturb my Godsworn?"
Athena.
The goddess herself.
She broke the sigil.
Fuck.
Her eyes locked onto me. Piercing. Unwavering.
I was Frozen, unable to move
"How are you wielding that book?"
My breath caught.
She was staring at the Mongrath.
I had to choose my words carefully. One wrong answer, and she could end me.
"It was a gift from my father."
Her expression darkened.
"Your father… Gabe Crowley?"
She knew of my father.
I didn't need to answer. She saw my reaction.
Her glow faded slightly, her tone softening.
"I knew your father. He was a good man. I'm sorry for your loss."
My chest tightened.
"Do you know who did it?" The words burst out before I could stop them. "Who killed them?"
I shouldn't have asked.
But if the goddess of wisdom didn't know, then who would?
She sighed, somberly.
"I'm sorry, young one. But I do not."
The words hit me like a sickness.
Suddenly, I was back there. My house. The fire. I was helpless. The world around me darkened. My breath—ragged, strained.
The goddess moved toward me, placing a hand on my shoulder. Light. Warmth. My breath steadied. The world brightened.
"Calm yourself. I said I do not know who did it. I did not say I know nothing."
I stared at her.
"We can talk later," she continued. "If I do not leave this vessel, she will die. Come to Varonthal. Go to the library and ask for Kay. He will help you reach me."
Then, she and her vessel vanished.