Prophecy: Tome of Magic

5. A Show of Love

Byrenion had not desired to return back to the fervor of the human chaos so soon, and he lingered in his quiet place a little longer. There, he continued to dwell in thought on all the things that swirled around in his mind; the things that plagued him, and the words he'd exchanged with Andreegys. Regardless of blame or who was right, there was one thing that was true across the board. He knew he was in an impure vessel, and he knew that it hindered his sight. As a god he had spent eons thinking as Andreegys had-that there was only supremacy, only victory, and everything else, by default, was weakness. There was no right or wrong, and the only rules that mattered were the ones that would pave the path to winning.

It wasn't like that for him now-at least, not exactly. He was still a god, and he still remembered all the things that had happened in his time-all the wars he'd fought, and the beliefs he'd held. They continued to make sense, even in the shell he was trapped in. Only now, that very shell tried to tether him, to bind him with guilt for the thoughts and actions he'd exhibited. The shell was very much human, and Byrenion was annoyed to find that pieces of the man who had inhabited it before him refused to go, forcing him to suffer all the same as if he was also human.

So indeed he was conflicted, held to a point of stagnation because he knew that he would be weighed down no matter the choice he made. If he were to return to Andreegys, his great love, the ghost within the carcass would fill his mind with numbing platitudes of righteousness. And it turned his stomach to rot to even consider siding with mortals against his own kind. Yet that was the inclination the impure vessel propelled him towards, and he regretted the power a human could wield over him. Austin Spencer was dead, no more than a memory kept alive by his thoughts and those that refused to let go, so it made no sense that he should have any control.

But that didn't exactly change anything, and Byrenion was still conflicted, searching through the thoughts and memoires that were not his own. The fragments of his life that were left behind were not all that remained, and the god found that even in death some emotion held on as well, and he settled on the image of what conjured the strongest feeling of what was left behind of Austin. It wasn't surprising that it was the human's lover-the hybrid, Toby-and he continued to observe the way the love was preserved so pristinely. It was an intriguing feeling, and Byrenion finally readied himself to return.

He wanted to explore that.

That feeling, however, was not unlike the very one that Monica Wright had come to know when she lived with her tribe. The one that she refused to ignore, bury, and as a result was inevitably exiled for. It was the feeling that, ironically, she learned that she had to do away with regardless when she was thrust into the human world-to show love was to show weakness, after all. That very feeling had caused her much heartache, earned her too many betrayals, and it was ultimately what drove her now, in its own sick way. Love had burned her, lowered her to where she was at now-the bottom. Now love would be what redeemed her.

Not love of people. Love of power. Of herself, and what she deserved.

"I like what you've done with the little witch," she motioned to the body Andreegys wore-Myrna's body. She didn't plan to stall long, she could already see how the immortal eyed her with impatience, but she had to prepare the lines in her head just as she'd rehearsed them. "It's curious to me, seeing Mr. O'Connor over there. I wouldn't have thought you'd put any trust in him, I mean, it isn't like he possesses any extraordinary gifts besides some enhanced strength and such. He has nowhere near the qualifications that I have."

"Watch your tongue, darling, I can beat that belief right out of you if that's what it takes," Liam started in response, stopping only when his superior raised a hand to silence him.