The Serpent's Curse, Lisa Maxwell [new reading .TXT] 📗

still don’t understand, do you, child?” Seshat’s expression darkened, her eyes shuttered. “My creation of the Book was a mistake. By taking a piece of pure magic, I weakened the whole, and when Thoth stopped me from completing the ritual—when he destroyed the stones I had created to hold my fractured power—he made it impossible for me to return the heart of power to the whole. If I could have completed the ritual, I would have been able to protect magic without destroying time. If I had completed the ritual, time would no longer have had the power to touch magic, and all would have been preserved. Instead, both time and magic are at risk. If Thoth brings that piece of magic back into time’s reach, it will die… and so will the whole. So, too, will time, and it will take the world with it.”

It was like the Brink, then—they’d discovered not long ago that it couldn’t be destroyed because it contained the affinities of all the Mageus it had killed. Bringing down the Brink would destroy magic itself—and if Seshat’s words were true, then it would destroy the world as well. But maybe it’s never been about destroying the Brink. Maybe they should have been trying to fix it instead.

“Do you see now?” Seshat pressed. “It would be a mercy to end this world compared to what will happen if time has its way—or if Thoth does. With my power, he would be able to use the beating heart of magic without risking time’s wrath. Whatever power he gains over the part, he will have over the whole, and all I have done—all I have sacrificed—will have been for naught.” Seshat leaned her face close so that Esta could feel the warmth of her breath, could smell her perfume, a scent like jasmine and old parchment and ancient books. “But if we destroy time… perhaps magic can begin again. Perhaps everything can begin again.”

“There has to be another way, another solution,” Esta said. “You can’t actually want this?”

“I do not deny that I will take joy in Thoth’s destruction—and the destruction of this ugly, meager world along with it. But what I want hasn’t been of any consequence for eons. I will not be sad to give these last pieces of what I am to see this world unmade, and all the terrible souls it contains along with it—especially if it means that Thoth can never prevail.”

“If you allow Thoth to make you into a monster, then he’s already won.” Esta was breathing hard, and her eyes were burning with tears she refused to shed. “He’s twisted you into something worse than even himself. Your vengeance must have blinded you or you wouldn’t be so willing to give up everything you were meant to be and become nothing more than a pawn to Thoth.”

“Your life must be worth very little that you would insult me so,” Seshat hissed. In a blink she’d latched onto Esta’s already sore wrist. “You came to me. You chose me.”

Esta could feel herself breaking apart. There was a moment when she considered how easy it would be to give in, to let go and allow Seshat’s power to take her—especially if Harte was gone. But she didn’t give in. Gathering all the strength she had left, she tore herself away from Seshat.

“No!” Esta snarled.

“You can’t win, child,” Seshat purred. “I saw your heart, your very soul. You understand what would happen if Thoth controlled my power. You know what he would do with the heart of magic trapped inside the Book. You want this as much as I—”

“No!” Esta roared again, and this time she focused her affinity, reached for the spaces between the seconds, and pulled, only a little, until the illusion began to waver like an earthquake rumbling beneath their feet. “There has to be another way. I will not sacrifice myself for your vengeance. I will fight you every second of every day, until time devours us both.” Her chest was heaving, her heart pounding in her ears like a steady tattoo, urging her on. “But give me Harte, and I will tear Thoth from this world. I will become your vengeance.” Esta struggled to hold her affinity steady, unsure of what Seshat would choose and unsure of what power she really had to stand against the goddess. “Give me Harte,” she said again, softer this time. “Give me Harte, and once Thoth is no longer a danger, I will finish what you’ve started. The world deserves that chance. Give me Harte, and I will do what you could not. I will use what I am to finish what you started and save the old magic from the ravages of time and right the balance between them. I will take on the burden of the serpent’s curse. But only for Harte’s life. He’s the one I came for. He’s always the one I will come back for. Not you.”

Seshat’s expression was unreadable as she stared at Esta. Seconds passed—or they could have been minutes or hours, since suddenly time seemed an empty promise. Finally she cocked her head a bit to the side, a painfully human gesture. “I wonder, child,” Seshat whispered. “Would he do the same for you?”

Esta believed she knew the answer to that question, but she wasn’t foolish enough to play Seshat’s games.

“Fine,” Seshat said. “But I will hold you to your promise. Destroy Thoth if you can. But if you cannot figure out a way to finish what I began—a way to bring magic and time back into balance—you will give yourself over to me. You will fight me no longer. And we will do what we must.”

Suddenly the fires went out, and the room went completely dark, the only light coming from the stars above. Seshat sank back into the darkness. And then the illusion of the chamber faded, leaving only the arena—the chaos and smoke and hot fury in the air.

Beneath Esta’s hands, Harte