“That’s her,” he assured the others. “Seduction stayed behind. I’ll have to fill you in later.”
“No more talking.” Adeline’s voice was cool, calm, but it held a warning. “He will hear.”
I didn’t have to ask who he was, because she turned to the dais immediately after her warning, and the robed man began to speak.
“My children.” His voice projected clearly, his arms splayed out wide in a welcoming posture. He didn’t look exactly like I had expected, despite the statues I had seen of him. His forehead was broader, and the statues had given him lines of age and wisdom that didn’t exist. His lips were also broad, stern, unsmiling. His hair was dark, kept short enough to tame any wayward curls.
“My fellows!” he boomed. The second greeting suggested a distinction between the collection of immortals, but I couldn’t tell where the distinction was, until Staviti bent his head in a nod directed at a specific woman.
She was ethereal, draped in magenta robes, a crimson veil covering her curls. She nodded back to him, her eyes cool. She seemed like a contradiction: both regal and delicate, precious and cold. It was Pica; the Goddess of Love.
“I have called this gathering to announce that the sols able to pass into godhood have become an endangered species. Over the life-cycles, less and less of the mortals have been able to ascend to Topia. They grow strong—strong enough to take their place in this heavenly realm—but fewer and fewer have proven themselves able to pass through. Their strength flees in the immortalisation process. I fear that the overpopulation of Topia has left no room for further ascension. There are no new lesser god positions available anymore, which means the god-positions we have now are the only ones we will ever have in Topia.” He paused, briefly but dramatically. “There has never been a third—only a God and their Beta, never a third with the same energy. This leads me to believe that the only way for a sol to successfully ascend to Topia now would be for a Beta to die and free up their position—”
He paused as an outbreak of murmuring spread through the platform. The gods and goddesses didn’t sound happy about his news. After a click, he raised his hand, cutting off their concerned swell of noise.
“I am not implying that anyone will be killed to allow further ascension. I am only bringing a private observation into the light. On the few occasions that Beta Gods have been unburdened from their immortal ties, a mortal has almost immediately taken their place—many of you will know this to be true. I am not suggesting that Betas need to be cleared, I am instead proposing that we create yet another institution on Minatsol, a fourth Academy where only the very best, the very strongest sol in each of the power-groups be invited to study. We must make this process more exclusive, the training more intensive.”
“Why don’t we simply separate,” a voice spoke up, softer than Staviti, but just as clear. A female, though I couldn’t see her. “Leave them be and announce that Topia is full.”
“The realms are co-dependant,” Staviti explained, a frown in his voice. His disapproval was tangible. “As time passes, the relationship between the realms becomes even more tightly interwoven. Minatsol will exist without Topia, but Topia cannot exist without Minatsol, it is where this land draws its energy and magic—”
“It’s what?” I hissed out, before one of the guys managed to slap a hand over my mouth. Abil glanced at me disapprovingly, and I was sure that even Staviti paused for a moment. I hadn’t realised until then, but there was a stillness in his audience that bordered on unnatural, fearful even. I spoke in my mind instead.
I thought Topia was supposed to feed Minatsol. I thought this place was supposed to be the rich and magical place, giving scraps to our crappy world?
Four sets of eyes turned my way, but I could tell that they didn’t have an answer for me. Coen gave the barest shake of his head and I turned my attention back to whatever Staviti was saying.
“There are pathways between the worlds—faucets, if you will, that can be turned on or off. For centuries, the faucets have been flowing into Topia from the motherworld, Minatsol. When I ascended to this realm after my death in Minatsol, there was nothing for me. I reached for Minatsol and created a bridge. It fed into this place we now call home, and since then I have created many bridges, many faucets. This world grows, prospers, and in time, Minatsol regenerates.”
It hasn’t regenerated at all, I thought, my eyes narrowing on Staviti.
“If the mortals are told that they no longer have any hope of ascending to Topia, they will no longer reach for us. Though they may not realise it, the bridges I have created can be torn down, the faucets can be turned off. If they no longer rely on us—if they no longer worship us and sacrifice to us—the links between our realms will narrow. It is their constant striving to reach for Topia that allows the connection to be so strong, that allows me to draw the resources from their world.”
“So we will attempt to break the natural order?” a man spoke up, sounding dubious. “We will attempt to make them strong enough that Topia will have to accept a second Beta to each god?”
“I have broken the natural order before,” Staviti said, his tone condescending. “I am perfectly capable of doing it again. The strongest mortals will be taken from each of the Academies and brought to my newest, greatest institution: Champions Peak. The site of this Academy is sacred, to both the mortals and to me—it is the location of the first bridge I ever created between our world and theirs—”
“A pocket,” Coen whispered, his voice so low I almost couldn’t catch it.
“I created a temple and told my surviving mortal relatives to worship me there, to bring others and spread the word. In the beginning, my realm, Topia, would not allow me to create others of my kind, and it would not allow me to visit Minatsol for long without weakening me. With the bridge created, and with my family spreading the word of my ascension as a god, things began to change. Minatsol began to give, and Topia to take. Soon, I was able to create a new, powerful family, and they were able to exist in Topia. Together we have thrived, we have built this world to something which is strong and proud. My family and I have created a platform for further ascension, an opportunity for immortality that each of you have been gifted with. I fear that if the connection were severed, those who have ascended since me may be immediately rejected.”
I understood what he was saying as far as the theory of it was concerned, but I wasn’t sure exactly what to believe. I knew he was lying about Minatsol regenerating itself, so what else was he lying about?
Did he really need the magic of Minatsol to fuel Topia?
Did he really want the sols to grow stronger? To make it to Topia?
“The Betas of each differing energy group will be expected to teach at Champions Peak.” Staviti’s decisive voice cut through my thoughts, forcing my head to turn toward my guys. I knew for certain that Siret was a Beta, but I didn’t know about the others. I wanted desperately to ask them then and there, but Staviti was already speaking again, drowning out my question.