Tributes

Chapter Fifty Two

War's anger burned and destroyed much in its wake. Like fire, if controlled, the damage could be contained, but even then, things got damaged that could not be fixed or undone. Helian did his duties and then checked on the relevant people involved in this unfortunate burn of passion.

Tyreol flirted with Chris, the two sparring in a teaching stanza with far more touching than strictly needed. Chris had a smile on his face, laughing at some comment. Tyreol knew how to teach even the timidest of creatures how to throw a punch. This wasn't that; this was him having fun. That relationship seemed to be forming strong and healthy despite the rocky start. When Tyreol tripped Chris up and caught him in an intimate hold, Helian ducked out before Chris saw him. Tyreol was good.

Time to find Jack. He wasn't with the others, or in his room. The castle whispered the answer. Jack had slipped out of the central tower into a balcony that technically belonged to the tributes area. He was gardening despite the cold. Other than the determination of a man fixed on the task that he'd set himself despite its difficulty, there were no signs of distress or concern. Helian left him to it. 

Some things made sense. Someone who has spring fae blood wanting to create and grow new life even in winter was one fact that did. He could check Jack's heart and feelings later.

Luke was asleep with three children curled around him; limbs starfished out in the messy pile and blankets half on, half on them. Luke slept on his back with the twins using his torso as a pillow, and Paul spread out on Luke's other side, snoring. Luke's arms sprawled over them, holding them loosely. A book sat abandoned on Luke's chest, which Helian saved before it could fall. 

 "Precious little one," Heilan tugged the blankets better over them all, running blessing through each of their souls. Silas curled around his brother tighter, breathing, falling deeper as the spell took root. 

Luke's eyes fluttered open and found him, reaching up to push his hand away with a pout on his lips. "Not a baby."

"With the amount of trouble you get into, little gem, you could do with the extra help." Heilan made himself comfortable next to Luke, careful not to wake up the children. "How are you feeling?" His fingers reburied themselves in Luke's hair to pet it steadily.

"Better, I think," Luke didn't try to remove his hand again. He shifted before freeing again and looking down at the children using his chest and stomach as a pillow with a resigned slump. "Silas fought with Abel again. They may fight, but they are pretty quick to locate each other when the other calms."

Heilan hummed but didn't say anything. His eyes did it for him. They weren't talking about the tributes. They were talking about him.

Luke looked away. His skin didn't look healthy, and the dark bags under his eyes declared that he needed to rest more yet. Adrenaline shocks took it out of people more than most gave them credit for, and Luke's soul would need a few days to recover from being reclaimed as well. "I don't feel about to throw up anymore."

"A good start. How about the other aftereffects?" 

"After effects?"

"You felt our Master's rage, didn't you?" Helian tugged on Luke's hair and pulled it out. The reality of what had happened needed to be faced here. Old magic stirred when a god tapped into the emotions that birthed them. War and anger sat hand in hand with greed and power-lust. The fabric that weaved itself around Tyreol's existence had torn through to bind itself to Luke now, far strong that the bonds that tethered them all to the God.