“Impossible. She’ll never make it,” Dagon says in an even sturdy tone.
“Is everyone breaking rules tonight?” Azeel grumbles.
“What do you think will truly happen, brother?” Bannik scowls. “You think they will come even then?”
“It’s an honor to watch their creation,” Azeel says.
He lets out a sigh I think we all feel. “What if this is our punishment?”
“What did we do wrong?” Uzza asks lightly. “This is our job. We don’t question why. We simply watch, remember when our focus leaves its purpose—you lose yourself.”
It’s a reminder I need—I think we all need. We’ve only ever fought over flying back to Heaven once—it was after one of the great wars.
There were so many deaths.
So much sorrow.
Part of me didn’t want to exist anymore—I wasn’t the only one.
“Well, look at that,” Bannik says as the top of the woman’s head fills our line of sight.
She’s about a quarter of a mile away from us.
None of us speak.
We’ve all lost the ability as the tiny human stomps through the snow, tumbling into it, nearly freezing to death. Her teeth are chattering, her fingers are turning a bright purplish red.
“She won’t make it,” Dagon says again.
“Shut up, Dagon.” I snap.
My brothers go quiet.
I’m the calm one, after all.
My heart feels like it’s beating out of my chest as she continues to walk despite the bitter wind, the frost forming on her tiny eyebrows, and the fact that she will never survive the walk back down the mountain.
Still. This human walks.
Stunned stupid, I stand in the middle, a bit farther out than my brothers, as we constantly change formations and let each person lead every hundred years; it’s my turn to stand there, to lead The Watchers.
Her eyelashes are dark; they’ve caught both tears and flakes of snow. She doesn’t cower when she looks upon our faces.
And in a moment that I had no idea would change the course of the universe and time itself—I turn my head.
And all I see.
Is her.
THREE
Helena
I must be delirious.
I thought they were statues I would set my food on. People I would worship as stone. I thought that they didn’t have faces, only armor.
I thought them—golden gods I would worship with fire and beg for healing.
These are men.
They are breathing, living, beings.
They’re also enormous, seven or eight feet tall. Muscular and the most beautiful beings I have ever laid eyes on.
They look like they’ve been carved effortlessly out of the mountain themselves, with olive-toned skin, sharp jaws, full lips, and eyes that are both a mixture of blue and green.
Their hair blows in the wind beneath their helmets, long, like black silk that changes in the light from white to black then back again.
I have next to no time.
I drop my small bag of food and start walking toward the one in the middle. The rest of them do a slight shift that I can barely see as they look toward him. Is he their leader? Someone else? Important?
I have no time. I know that now.
I have to worship.
I have to serve.
I have to sacrifice.
I grab my bag from the ground where I just dropped it and stumble toward the giant in the middle. He’s a god, isn’t he? There’s no other explanation. My legs hurt as I move through the deep freezing snow, and yet I keep going. I’m numb as I finally fall at his feet.
His gold armor coats his legs, his toes; every part of him seems to be gleaming in something other, something not of this world.
I take a deep breath and slowly pull out a few biscuits I’d cooked the day before. They’re cold, they won’t even taste good, but I lay them at his feet, and I follow with a few pieces of beef.
Finally.
Finally, I grab the small bottle of wine and dump it across him. I take one piece of the biscuit, dip it in the wine, and eat it. “My sacrifice to you. Will be my life. Save one of my own and…” Tears well in my eyes as I look into his. “I am yours. All of me.”
I hear a gasp to his side.
He flinches.
His nostrils flare like he’s angry enough to kill me, but something passes between us, something tangible that I can’t actually describe.
“Rise, human,” he commands.
I don’t hesitate.
He grabs my arm and then jerks away.
I frown.
He looks down at his fingers like he’s been burned, then back at me. “Sorcery?”
I almost laugh because it’s so ridiculous. “I’m merely human.”
He stares me down. “No. No…”
His brothers start to whisper amongst themselves.
He reaches for me; I’m not ready for it.
He touches my skin again and jerks back as if I’m powerful and he’s powerless, and then his eyes shut briefly, he hangs his head. “More powerful than you will ever know.”
“What are you saying?” one of his men or brothers ask.