Nope. All Willa, boys. There was a high possibility they were going to kill me when they found out what I was doing.
The teacher breezed in a few clicks after the final bell, her auburn robes long and lacey as they trailed behind her. She had her hair styled up high on her head, which gave her face a permanently surprised expression, which only got more surprised when she noticed the back-right section of the room.
“Uh, hello there, nice to see you boys again.” Her voice wavered a little, and I could see her mouth open and close more than once as her eyes darted across the room. Right to the place where a couple of sols were grim-faced, standing against the wall.
It was clear that she wanted to ask what the rest of the Abcurses were doing in her classroom, but she must have decided it wasn’t worth dealing with them, so she simply started her lesson. “Picking up from our last class, we are delving deeper into the history of the creator and the ten original companions.”
Forgetting about my state of semi-undress, I leaned forward in my chair, elbows propped on my desk. The gods were so much closer and more real to me now; for once in my life, I wanted to hear these lessons. I wanted to know everything.
“To start, I’m handing out the Tree of the Gods, feel free to add notes to this.” Teacher Sing-Song strolled over to a small cubby and removed a full stack of ironed, white parchment. “I know this is information learned from a young age, but since our entire aim is to be worthy of the gods, we always revisit the basics to stay updated about all of them.”
Rome let out a low sigh. “Of course, who wouldn’t want to know which god is screwing which, and how many sols are actually going to make it to Topia.”
He said it really low—I was pretty sure that only me and his brothers had heard. The teacher didn’t react at all as she continued around the room.
When the paper landed in front of me, the teacher must have finally noticed what I wore. A low gasp escaped her throat, and she was jittery as she glanced between me and the guys, before she quickly dropped papers on their tables and bailed from our section of the room. I lowered my head to see who made up the God tree:
Staviti (Original God)
Ten companions:
Adeline (Goddess of Beauty)
Abil (God of Trickery)
Rau (God of Chaos)
Terence (God of Bestiary)
Lorda (Goddess of Obsession)
Pica (Goddess of Love)
Ciune (Goddess of Wisdom)
Gable (God of Vice)
Crowe (God of Death)
Haven (God of Nature)
I was studying the list so intently that when I glanced up, I was a little taken-aback to see five sets of eyes on me. Each of them observing me with varying shades of curiosity.
“What?” I whispered, slowly glancing down, relieved to see that I was still wearing my underwear—at least—which hopefully meant that to them, I was still completely dressed.
“If you wanted to know about the Gods, dweller-baby, you should have just asked us,” Coen said, his big hand reaching out to cup around my arm as he dragged our desks closer. “There’s nothing this singing sol could possibly tell you that we wouldn’t know more about.”
True.
I had probably the best source of information in the world right at my fingertips, but for some reason, I avoided thinking about them being gods. I liked to pretend that they were still sols, which would mean that only half a world separated them from me. As gods, I wasn’t even in the same universe as them.
The teacher started prattling again and I tuned in to see what information she could offer.
“Staviti was the Original God …” she began. Personally, I thought it was a terrible beginning. She needed to work on her hook. Stating obvious facts wasn’t a great way to capture attention.
Siret leaned forward, his voice in my ear. “How about you listen to what she’s saying so that I don’t have to repeat everything to you later because you were too busy criticizing her delivery to listen to what she was actually saying, hm?”
I didn’t respond to him, because he was too much of a smart-ass to respond to. Instead, I tuned back into Sing-Song’s monologue.
“He started as a blessed sol on Minatsol,” she was saying. “Many lifetimes ago. There are no reliable accounts of what actually happened, but it is said that when he was in his mid-life cycle, he was hit with a gift, and the next sun-cycle he awoke to find that he could create fire from thought. He could bring rains with ease. He could control the winds as they swept through the valleys, and change his appearance at will.”
She was starting with the Origin of the Gods story, one which we were all told from birth. I always thought it was ironic that dwellers were the lowest form of sentient beings on Minatsol, and yet history stated that both gods and sols were born from us: that we were the first.
“Staviti was from the thirtieth ring, for back then the whole of Minatsol was vibrant and alive. He soon started traveling across the rings, sharing his gift with the people, and the dwellers were in awe of what he had become. He spread his seed far and wide.”
I cracked a grin. That was always my favourite part of the story. Apparently, Staviti was a bit of a stud in his time: there weren’t many dweller men who could compete with a god-in-training.
“As he traveled around Minatsol,” Sing-Song continued, ignoring the scattered snorts around the classroom, “he fathered upwards of a hundred children to women from across the land. His children were the first sols, all born with gifts, but none as powerful as their father.”
She lifted her head from the paper she was holding, as if suddenly realising she wasn’t standing there alone. “Who can tell me what happened next?”
A small sol in the front row shot her hand into the air, and Sing-Song nodded once. “Letti, go ahead.”
Letti’s voice was strong and loud, despite her tiny frame. “Staviti lived for many life-cycles beyond a dweller’s normal hundred or so cycles, before finally being cut down by some jealous dwellers.”
“Bullshit,” I heard Yael mutter.
Letti was still talking. “After death, he found himself in a land of such vast beauty, it was beyond anything he had seen before. He realised that he was strong and powerful, and that he could still walk upon Minatsol when he wanted to, but that none of the sols or dwellers could follow him back.”
The teacher nodded her thanks before taking over again. She wasn’t a very good sharer, that was for sure. “Topia was perfect and pure, but it was very lonely for Staviti. He wished for a companion, someone to share the long life-cycles with, and then … with no more than a simple thought, he brought a being to life.”
“Pica,” Aros said, sounding bored and resigned.