Twilight of the Gods ✔️

Chapter 17: The Trap of Free Will

He kept thinking about kissing her.

Uriel was used to thinking about Daeva. From the moment she woke up to the second she slept, it was his job to look after her. Such was the nature of the relationship between Gods and their angels. Like all his brethren before him, their will was their God's will.

But he was beginning to question that. Their kiss replayed in his mind again. Her lips touched his in maddening repetition. She told him to kiss her again and again. He knew he could say no in spite of the strength of their Blood Bond. The Binding Chains had weakened Daeva's hold over him. Still, he had obeyed her, kissed her with the flutter of free will in his chest.

He couldn't understand why. Maybe it was the programmed devotion all angels had for their Gods. Maybe it was the sincerity of Daeva's confession. Maybe it was his own feelings unearthed by her commands. Whatever it was, he was losing sleep over it.

Whether his eyes were opened or closed, he only saw her. When he admired the roses in the garden, he saw her stern red gaze. When he turned his eyes to the hearth, he was reminded of her fiery spirit. Even when he sought reprieve from thoughts of her by gazing at the night sky, he was still reminded of his God, beautifully star-skinned and ink blooded.

It was her fault, in a way. She had trained him for this intentionally. When she resurrected him, she had complete power over all of his decisions. He had told her as much and she had remarked that it was an unwelcome burden of Godhood. She endured it for a week, spending every hour giving him commands and tasks, each grander than the last in hopes of occupying his time. But when that failed, she decided to try another tactic.

She placed an apple and an orange on the table before him and asked him to choose a fruit.

"I will choose whichever one you wish me to choose," he had said.

"I want you to pick the one you want to eat," she said patiently, having heard similar statements from him before.

"Well, which one do you want me to eat? I'll pick that one," he said.

"Whichever one you find the most delicious," she said, her tone already growing weary.

In all honesty, Uriel didn't have very strong feelings about apples or oranges. They were just fruits that nourished mortal bodies. He wanted to ask Daeva which one she found more delicious, but he sensed that saying so would only make her angry. So he chose the apple and watched as her red eyes lit up in delight.

"See? You can make choices for yourself," she said. She threw her arms around him and for a moment, he thought his heart might stop.

He didn't have the courage to tell her the truth which was that choosing the apple was still her decision, not his. At that moment, when she had placed the apple and orange before him, she had made an unconscious decision of which fruit she preferred. As her angel, he had sensed the decision and followed her will without thinking.

Over the next few days, Daeva would repeat the apple and orange scenario, each time with different objects. A red scarf or a blue scarf? Mutton or venison? Most of the time, he chose what she chose. When he sensed that she was getting suspicious, he made sure to go for the opposite of what she preferred. He supposed that's where it started. The tiny seeds of free will were planted in those instances where he wanted to please her. Nothing made him feel better than seeing her happy.

He had no one else left, after all.

His memories of his past life, much like Daeva's, were hazy. He remembered burning on the battlefield, the fire catching in his wings before engulfing his whole body. But beyond that, there were only little snippets. Sometimes, he remembered serving Anhel, a giant who wore a crown of stars and wept every time his lover Odi left his bed cold. In those memories, he was overwhelmed by the depth of Anhel's devotion to Odi. The God's emotions overtook him like a tidal wave and he drowned helplessly, drinking the elixir of love and despair. He understood why Anhel never left Odi and felt the centuries of emotional chains that tied them together. He grieved for his God, but the sorrow he felt for his fallen brethren was endless.