Chapter 10 — The Road of Ash and Honey
The road to Solenn shimmered like a mirage.
What had once been the empire's main trade route now lay half-buried under drifts of pale sand, its milestones cracked, its names long erased. Heat rippled over the horizon, turning the world into shifting gold.
They had walked for hours before Elian finally spoke.
"You said the first relic is beneath the Holy Archive. What is it exactly?"
The god's eyes, dark as smoldered amber, lifted to the far skyline. "A fragment of my heart."
Elian frowned. "You mean—metaphorically?"
A faint smile curved the god's mouth. "No. They carved it out when they bound me. Each piece they sealed away to weaken me. To feed on it."
Elian swallowed. "And when you get it back?"
"I will be whole," the god said softly, "and the light that burns this world will tremble again."
They walked in silence for a while. The sun burned mercilessly overhead, and the god's shadow—sharp, flawless—walked beside him with unnatural precision, never shifting with the wind. Elian noticed it, hesitated, and asked, "Why doesn't your shadow move?"
"It is bound," the god said simply. "Like me."
He paused then, glancing at Elian's flushed cheeks and the sweat along his neck. "You are mortal. You need rest."
"I'm fine," Elian lied, even as his knees wavered.
The god's gaze softened. Without warning, he stopped, turned, and touched Elian's chin, lifting it gently. "You are far too fragile for your own defiance."
Elian's breath caught. "And yet, I'm still walking beside you."
"Perhaps," the god murmured, "that's why I can't look away."
He conjured a flicker of cool shade around them — an illusion of twilight made from his own fading power. Elian sank down beneath a withered tree, its bark turning silver in the god's presence. The silence between them grew thick, charged.
"You never told me your name," Elian said after a while.
The god's fingers stilled in the air.
"They call you Durvasa," Elian continued carefully. "The cursed god. The one who devoured the sun. But I know that's not yours."
"It was the name they branded on my chains," he said. "A curse meant to erase what I was."
"Then what were you?"
The god hesitated. His gaze fell to the sand, to the shimmer of the light around them. When he spoke again, his voice was low, almost human.
"I was the first light. The one who shaped the world from breath and silence. I gave mortals the will to choose. They used that gift to build cages and call them heavens."
His eyes lifted to Elian's. "I gave them freedom, and they made faith."
Elian's chest tightened. "So you hate them for it."
"No," he said. "I envy them."
He moved closer then, kneeling beside Elian. The air grew warmer, heavier. "They love. They despair. They destroy each other and still believe in tomorrow. That is creation's truest cruelty — to make something capable of hope."
Elian reached up without thinking, brushing his fingertips against the god's jaw. "You sound lonely."
"Loneliness is a human word."
"Then maybe you're more human than you think."
For a moment, neither of them moved. The god's breath brushed his skin, slow and deliberate. His hand found the back of Elian's neck, thumb tracing the pulse there.
"You keep offering me kindness," he said quietly. "Do you not fear what I'll become once I am whole again?"
Elian's lips parted. "Should I?"
"Yes."
"Then teach me how."
The god's smile was sharp and tender all at once. He leaned in — close enough that Elian could see the faint light burning in his pupils. "You'll regret asking that."
Elian's voice trembled. "Then let me regret it with you."
The god's restraint snapped like glass. His mouth found Elian's again — this time deeper, more certain. The taste of him was warm salt and starlight, dizzying. When he finally drew back, Elian was trembling, his heart racing like a drum.
"What was that for?" he whispered.
"For silence," the god said. "Before I speak words that damn us both."
He rose, offering a hand to pull Elian up. "Come. Solenn is two days away. We cannot linger."
As they walked again, the god's power began to dim — faint wisps of light curling off his skin like smoke. He hid it well, but Elian saw the exhaustion in his gait.
"You're fading," Elian said softly.
"I burned too much when the Saint found us. Until I reclaim my relic, I'll weaken with every mile."
"Then take my strength," Elian said impulsively.
The god stopped. "You don't understand what that means."
"Maybe not. But I'd rather share your burden than watch you break."
For a heartbeat, the god said nothing. Then he turned and pressed his palm to Elian's chest. The touch was searing and intimate. "You would give your life for mine?"
Elian met his gaze, unflinching. "It's already yours."
The god's breath hitched — a flash of something raw and unguarded crossing his face. He withdrew his hand slowly. "Be careful, mortal. Words like that bind deeper than any spell."
They continued in silence, the horizon glowing with the faint outline of Solenn's towers. As night fell, the city's golden lights shimmered against the stars like false constellations.
"Tell me," Elian said quietly, "when you reclaim your heart… what then?"
The god looked at him — the desert wind catching in his hair, eyes reflecting the fire of distant lanterns. "Then I decide whether this world deserves to end."
Elian tried to smile. "And if I begged you not to?"
"Would you beg?"
"Maybe."
The god stepped closer until only inches separated them. "Then I'd have to listen."
They reached the ridge overlooking Solenn just before dawn. The city stretched beneath them like a promise and a wound — white spires gleaming, banners of gold rippling in the wind.
Elian inhaled sharply. "Beautiful."
The god's gaze hardened. "Beautiful things always hide rot."
As they watched, the faintest movement stirred in the sands far behind them — a ripple of gold trailing through the desert, shaped like a woman's silhouette. She paused, watching them from miles away.
Her voice drifted on the wind, a whisper only the night could hear:
"Run, my love. I am coming to finish what we began."
The god turned suddenly, eyes narrowing — sensing something. Elian followed his gaze, but saw only the endless dunes.
"What is it?"
"An echo," he said softly. "One that should not exist."
He looked back at the city, at the light waiting for them below. "Hurry. Before memory catches up."
Together, they descended the ridge — unaware that the shadow of a goddess now followed their every step.