I pushed my hands into my lap in case he decided to test out my control. Only the nails were purple, but I still didn’t trust that to mean I was safe to touch anyone. That I hadn’t hazed by accident for a while was a small matter of pride for me. I’d take my victories where I could. “It seems… a little easier to keep hold of.”
The corner of his mouth rose. I couldn’t decide if it was an amused smirk or a happy smile that he tried to smother. “And let me guess—it’s because you’ve been letting go a little?”
It was my turn to grumble as I focused on stirring lemon and honey into my tea.
“It’s all about balance, Kat.” When I looked up, I found him placing the teaspoon on his finger, finding the balancing point.
I raised an eyebrow. “Rather a literal illustration, don’t you think?”
He huffed and grabbed the spoon, using it to point at me. “Such a disrespectful child. Fine, let me give you a more metaphorical one. As a human, I doubt you’ve heard how the universe was created.”
I blew across my tea. “I’m all ears.”
“Blunt ones,” he muttered. “In the time before, there was only the eternal nothingness of the heavens and the Celestial Serpent. He ventured through the darkness searching for something, anything, but there was only himself—as dark as the night itself.”
“That sounds lonely.” I ran my nail over the rim of my cup.
“Hence his search. After an age, he finally spotted something—a light in the distance. It took him aeons to reach it, but he kept his gaze fixed on that distant light, since it was the only thing he had. Little by little it became clearer, until he realised it was another serpent. The Tellurian Serpent, as bright as he was dark—his equal and opposite. She was as overjoyed as him, for she had a similar story of journeying and loneliness and a search for something amidst the void.”
Although it was a myth—and a myth about two snakes no less—I found myself smiling. I’d never searched through endless space, but I had known the void of loneliness.
“In their joy, they shared themselves, all that they were, all that they’d thought in their journeys and had no one to speak of it to, and in the lifetimes their conversations stretched over, they fell in love. Because although they were opposites—him angry where she was joyful, him guarded where she was curious—they brought out the best in each other. Her curiosity drew him from behind the walls he’d built. His anger at the universe for leaving them to suffer alone gave her passion. Coming together changed them both. Glimmers of light began to twinkle in his scales. Points of darkness speckled hers.”
The panel in Bastian’s office. “A light serpent with dark stars, and a dark serpent with light ones.”
Kaliban inclined his head. “Though there were no stars then. Only the two serpents… until they mated.”
What was a fae story without sex? I hid my smirk by taking a sip of tea.
“The Tellurian Serpent grew thick, and the Celestial Serpent slowed his pace and helped her in their eternal flight. But when her time came, she didn’t lay an egg.” A hint of sadness marked his downcast gaze. “Her body heaved and broke apart, glimmering scales creating the sun and stars, one eye forming the earth, its black pupil the Underworld. While her other eye formed another world.”
“She died to create everything?” I hugged my cup close. “And… there’s another world out there?”
“There was. The Celestial Serpent did all he could, trying to gather the broken parts of his beloved, trying to stop her falling apart, but to no avail. She was gone, and although life sprung up on those worlds, he was alone in space once more. He blamed what they’d created for her death and in his rage set about destroying it. He ate the other world and then turned towards earth, but before he could eat that too, he was stopped.”
An entire world destroyed, and ours close to the same fate. All those lives obliterated in an instant. “How?”
“Some versions of the story say a great fae hero fought him and forced him back. Others say the Tellurian Serpent’s spirit visited him with a reminder that these were their children, that their love had created all this—that she loved it all as much as she loved him.”
It was only a story. Objectively I knew that, and yet my eyes stung and my heart was sore. She had given everything. And he had lost everything.
“The Celestial Serpent agreed to only eat the sun each evening and return it come morning. So their children on earth wouldn’t be left in darkness as the serpents once had, her spirit lit up the night, coiled in the form of the moon.”
“They’re always apart.”
He gave me a wistful smile. “That’s what makes the eclipse special. It’s the only time they come back together again.”
“A bit like the king and queen.”
“Hmph. I suppose. But for vastly different reasons. The Sleep allows them and their people to share this land without killing each other.
“True.” I kept my thoughts quiet, trying not to let them turn towards the fact the Sleep was under threat. Frowning at my cup, I cleared my throat. “The serpents’ story is a sad one, though.”
“That wasn’t the point. People tend to see the Celestial Serpent as a traitor—a destroyer—but they forget he helped create the world, too.”
Bastian. That was why they’d called him Serpent after he’d killed his father. A traitor to his own family. I swallowed, throat suddenly thick.
Kaliban held up the teaspoon once more. “The universe has balance because of his dark and her light. Destruction, creation. Order, chaos. The universe needs duality and balance.”
“Control and letting go.”
A smile dawned on his face, not sad or sardonic or even amused, but something warm and genuine. “Stars above, I think she’s got it.”
I turned my hands over, purple nails stark against my tan skin. “You think I’m making progress because I’ve found a middle ground. Venting at times, so I have control at others.” Just like Ella had said.
“Exactly. Bring it to just one finger.”
I took a deep breath and shifted my focus to the hum of magic on my skin. Instead of clawing at it all as I had when the Ascendants had attacked, I pulled on just a little, channeling it to the third finger of my right hand, where Bastian’s ring sat. The purple stain spread down from my nail.
When it reached the base of my finger, I thought hard, like when I’d pushed Kaliban from my mind, Enough.
It stopped.
“I heard that.” He winced. “A little clumsy, perhaps, but you controlled it. Try a different finger—just the first knuckle.”
I let go of the magic I’d channeled, making the stain fade before cupping more magic at the tip of my left forefinger. I tried not to shout Enough in my head this time, and the stain bled a little further than the knuckle, but…
“Not bad.” He nodded slowly. “Try somewhere else. What about a poisoned kiss? I’m sure that could be useful.”
I scoffed and let the magic from my finger dissipate. “You’ll have to tell me if it works.” Another deep breath and I focused on my lips.