Solmir nudged one of the bones with his toe, turning it over to reveal more teeth marks. “It kept loosening its restraints,” he said quietly. “I finally had to use god-bone to keep it lashed to the floor.”
“You imprisoned it?” He’d said as much before, but now, faced with concrete proof of the Oracle’s violence, the feat seemed nearly impossible. “How? And why?”
“Luck, mostly.” Gingerly, Solmir stepped over the first ring of bones. “As for the why, it’s a long story, and this timing is less than ideal.”
She couldn’t argue there. “But you’ll tell me after.”
He made a noise that wasn’t assent or disagreement. Circumstances being what they were, Neve didn’t push.
As they moved forward, the glow at the back of the cavern gradually grew brighter. It was soft, diffuse, like shafts of sunlight seen through morning mist. The gentleness of it sat strangely against the carnage of gnawed-on skulls.
The last ring of bones was high enough to obscure Neve’s view of whatever lay on the other side, though she could tell whatever it was emanated that glow. Solmir paused, twisting his ring again. Blue eyes slanted her way, then down to her pocket.
Neve read his meaning: Keep the bone hidden. She nodded.
Solmir went first, climbing over the bone-pile with more grace that the shifting shards should’ve allowed. Neve followed, her torn nightgown making the ascent fairly easy. The chill of the Shadowlands might make it less than ideal, but at least she could run with her skirt tattered to strips, and that seemed more prudent.
Then she topped the rise.
A circular stone dais sat beyond the wall, its color bleached white in the glow from the figure that stood on it.
A beautiful, almost human figure.
The god was dainty and feminine, delicately boned. White hair fell shimmering to the floor, almost indistinguishable from the long white robe that covered the figure from neck to ankle, leaving its arms bare. Its forehead and eyes were covered by a silver wire mask, attached to a crown of rotting roses. Chains bound thin wrists, stained dark and crusted with what might’ve been ink or dried blood, anchored to the stone floor in front of it with shards of ivory. More chains around its waist, similarly anchored, a bound deity in a palace of chewed bones.
The Oracle.
Solmir stood at the foot of the dais, glaring up at the Old One with undisguised hatred. The god didn’t acknowledge him at all, didn’t so much as twitch when Neve slid down the bone-pile, though a clatter of stirred vertebrae fell to the floor in her wake.
Solmir didn’t look at Neve when she stepped up next to him, but he did shoulder in front of her slightly, like he wanted to stay between her and the god he’d imprisoned.
Neve let him. Out of all the things she’d seen since coming to this strange, upside-down world, this slight, girlish figure in the decaying flower crown was the most unsettling.
For a handful of heartbeats, they stood in silence.
Then the Oracle: “Aren’t you going to cede your power, Solmir? That’s the polite thing to do. Or are you just going to stare at me all day?”
“I’d rather eat glass than cede power to you.” He didn’t snarl it. He said it measured and matter-of-fact, and the words were sharper for it.
The Oracle angled its head to look at them through its wire mask. Darkness stained the skin beneath it, as if the god’s eyes had rotted and dripped from the sockets like egg yolks. More black stains marred its gown, the remains of some bloody feast.
Neve thought of all those teeth marks and swallowed.
“I see,” the Oracle said slowly, voice gentle and smooth. “Still upset over centuries-old hurts. Not surprising, I suppose. Our kind have long memories, and the ages melt together eventually.”
“You and I are not remotely the same thing,” Solmir replied.
A slow smile spread over the Oracle’s face, revealing double rows of tiny, pointed teeth. “It’d be easier for you if that were true, wouldn’t it? But the only thing separating you from me is a soul, Solmir, and yours seems worse for wear lately. Well, a soul and belief. Believing yourself to be a god is the most important aspect of divinity, and you lost your belief in yourself long ago. In every way.”
Solmir’s expression didn’t change, but his hands clenched by his sides, tight enough to blanch the skin around his rings.
“All that magic, swelling you like a tick on a vein,” the Oracle murmured. “Truly, it’s astonishing you’ve managed to hold on to your soul at all.” With a burst of unnatural speed, the Oracle bent its head to the side at an angle that should’ve snapped its neck, exaggerated curiosity. “Does she know why you take the magic from her? Why you keep it, so she stays empty?”