Finn’s arm dropped once more to his side and he stepped back away from them, guilt washing over him like a flood. “Death was controlling me,” Finn said quietly and then nodded. “But yes, when he stopped me from killing them,” he added as he covered his face with both hands and rubbed at his eyes. Slowly he pulled his hands down across his face and let out a long breath. “So, I’m Death now,” he muttered. Nodding slowly he resisted the urge to scream in frustration and simply paced the room instead. Anger, desperation, shock, and grief warred inside him as the full implications of his new role in life began to settle in his mind.
“It doesn’t matter if you are alive, Finn. You are Divine now. You are Death. There is no changing that fact. Perhaps once you have learned to master your strengths there might be a chance of passing the mantle on to another, but as it stands, the only way to change what you are is for another to kill you and take your place,” Damon explained in a droning voice. The knight shifted, his armor creaking on his tall frame. With a loud sigh the Lord of Destruction looked around the throne room and then back to War. “Where is she? He will need to learn and I haven’t the time to teach him with everything crumbling in the Sunlit world. I remember this one as a child and I remember how he shunned his magic lessons in favor of blades. He has so much to learn and no time to learn it.”
War shrugged, then leaned to look back out the doorway. Standing straight once more he shrugged again and motioned half-heartedly toward Finn. “If you were a spirit, would you want to be around him right now? The scant few that were in the throne room were destroyed in the first moments of Death’s fall. I can’t say that I really blame her for being hesitant to show up.”
“Who?” Finn asked looking back and forth between them. He paused in his pacing to watch them and then looked toward the door himself. A woman stood outlined there now. She was clad in white plate mail with a bloody cloak wrapped tightly around her. Her expression showed flickers of nervousness as she watched him with dark eyes.
“Fiona, come in,” Damon called without bothering to turn toward the door. “He has much to learn and there is no time for you to waste.”
“Father, he has no control over his power. I can see it leaking from him. If I approach too closely, I may not last long,” Fiona protested in a soft voice.
Damon raised an eyebrow at him and let out a sigh. “Finn surely you paid enough attention to your magic lessons to at least contain your magic properly.”
Frowning, Finn searched through his memories to the sunlit days in the gardens of Avanti. Sovann had always been so attentive to their aging teacher. Finn however had always found other entertainments. Birds to watch, pictures to draw, anything to keep his mind off the boring prattle of the old woman and his little brother’s enthusiasm. His chest tightened again as he realized how much he would give to see his brother right now. Sovann was a genius with magic. Hell, his little brother could probably even determine a way to get him out of the mess he had gotten himself into. His brother always had a way of getting him out of binds. Sovann’s voice broke from his memories in the familiar lecture that he reserved for the worst of Finn’s messes. Really Finn you should think things through before you act. Do you honestly have to be so spontaneous all the time? One of these days, you are going to get yourself into something that you can’t get out of. That, or die, and I don’t want to see either, Finn.
Slowly, Finn shook his head at Damon and let out a ragged breath as his eyes grew glassy. “No, I don’t guess I did, Lord Veirasha. There are a lot of things I should have done that I didn’t, though. So what’s one more on the list?”
War shifted where he stood, his gaze traveling upwards. His eyes poured over the ceiling and he stepped back. “Delvay is moving in force,” he murmured, his eyes dropping once more to Damon. “The middle of bloody winter and the drums of war are beating loudly.”
Damon nodded slowly, his eyes still on Finn. “Let me give you incentive to learn Finn. The sunlit world is about to be ripped apart and Death has been hoarding the souls of your wife’s allies. There have not been rebirths in those lands in years. Meanwhile her enemies have been breeding like rabbits. They are outnumbered and outgunned and if you don’t get your affairs in order their souls will be lost in the Darklands when they die. If you can manage to master your strengths you can spare some that might otherwise die. The power of life or death is quite literally in your fumbling hands right now.” His words began softly but gained volume with each breath until he was nearly shouting.
“Let me give you incentive that you might actually care more about,” War broke in with a faint smile. “If you can manage to contain your power, Fiona will show you a scry of Jala as a reward. With each lesson that you learn you can see another glimpse of the world above until you master that skill yourself,” he offered.
“That seems more like torment than reward,” Damon began but trailed off as he noticed the gleam in Finn’s eyes.
“A bite of food for a starving man,” War said watching Finn closely.
Finn pulled the memories back once more and focused with all his mind on everything that revolved around magic. Pieces of fragmented lessons flittered through his mind and he collected them quickly and sorted the information until he had something that bordered on useful. Closing his eyes he let out a soft breath and searched inside himself for the magical strength he had never had any use for. With a patience he had never known before, he gathered the power and carefully pulled it back. It took nearly all his focus to hold it in place, yet he did so without complaint. Looking up slowly he locked his eyes on the spirit of Fiona Veirasha that still stood in the open doorway. “Show me Jala,” he ordered through clenched teeth.
“Food for a starving man,” War repeated with a faint smile and nodded to Fiona. “Good luck girl, I’m sure you will need it,” he added, as he headed for the door.