Go for a walk.
Like a dog.
If he were anyone else, I would’ve kicked him in the throat. Instead, I smiled. “That would be nice.”
And it would be. Any chance to leave the cage was an opportunity to see more of my surroundings.
“Good. Come.” He motioned me forward.
I did as he ordered, taking note of the guards. Elias was there, as always. This time, the other was the Revenant, Dyses. His eyes looked even paler in the fading sunlight.
“Where has Callum been?” I asked.
“I sent him away for a few days to handle something important for me,” he said, not elaborating on the task. “I figured you two could benefit from some space.” He looked down at me, his stare suddenly sharp. “Perhaps be less inclined to disobey me.”
Disobey him…？
Damn it, he had felt me using the embers when I’d spoken to Veses. Except he believed it was a result of my interactions with Callum.
Which meant that he remained unaware of Veses’ visit. It could possibly even mean that Veses hadn’t begun her campaign against me.
Despite how demented she was, Veses was smart enough not to launch an all-out verbal attack against me. She’d immediately arouse Kolis’s suspicions, and not in the way she wanted. But I was willing to bet she’d already been whispering in his ear, laying the groundwork.
Something else struck me as Kolis led me down the same path we’d taken to the Council Hall. The color of the Revenants’ eyes could only be described as a lifeless shade of blue. Emphasis on lifeless. I’d seen the eyes of the dead before, how they first fixed on the beyond and then glazed over. I’d seen the color change, or at least appear to. A film of sorts settled over them, the color a milky, bluish-gray.
Almost identical to a Revenant’s.
Was that because they had died?
I glanced behind us, relieved to see that only Elias followed. What I wanted to ask seemed sort of rude to ask in front of Dyses. “Can I ask you something about the Revenants?”
“Of course.” Kolis walked slowly, allowing me to keep pace beside him.
“Callum explained to me that Revenants are not in need of food or blood,” I began.
“They aren’t,” he confirmed as we passed under the palms’ broad leaves. “They have no need of anything that sustains either mortals or gods. Not even sleep.”
My brows knitted. “Then what of less-tangible things? Like companionship?”
“As in friendship? Love? Sex? No.”
Dear gods. “That sounds…”
“Wonderful?” He smiled. “Their lives are no longer tethered to the needs of the flesh or the wants of the soul. They’re driven only by the desire to serve their creator.”
Yeah, I wasn’t thinking wonderful at all. More like horrific.
“You don’t think so?” he asked as we approached the diamond-encrusted wall. The sparkling buildings of the city came into view.
I knew better than to breathe too deeply. The scent of decay was in the air.
“I…I just can’t imagine not wanting anything.” I honestly couldn’t as we turned toward the colonnade. “Not feeling anything.”
“I imagine it’s rather freeing,” he remarked as we climbed the short, wide steps.
I could barely keep my expression blank. While I’d wished I didn’t feel anything many times in my life, I couldn’t imagine a near eternity of feeling nothing. The mere thought of it caused my chest to constrict.
Forcing my breathing to even out and slow, I considered what Kolis had shared as we entered the hall of what I assumed was the main part of the sanctuary. The Revenants may be reborn and able to walk and talk and serve, but they were without wants and needs, and that was nothing more than a poor imitation of life.
Kolis had called the Craven the walking dead, but in reality, the Revenants were such.
Which was why Kolis hadn’t wanted to turn me into one of them. What came back had no soul. Revenants were just reanimated flesh and bones.
Gods, I felt sorry for them. I probably shouldn’t, because if there truly were no souls in them, then they weren’t people. They were just things—something that shouldn’t exist—but I did.
The hall was much quieter today, with only a few faint moans echoing from the shadowy alcoves. “But Callum is different,” I said, remembering both he and Kolis saying as much.
He nodded as we stopped by one of the curtained recesses. He drew the covering back, revealing a door. “Callum is full of wants and needs,” he replied dryly. “Just as you and I.”
So, Callum at least lived.
“And you truly don’t know why he turned out differently than the others?”
Kolis opened the door with a wave of his hand. “I don’t, but…” He sighed loudly before looking over my shoulder at Elias. “You can wait here.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Unnerved that I would be alone with him, I waited for Kolis to elaborate as we came upon a narrow, spiral staircase.
Luckily, he was feeling chatty. “I believe motivation plays a role. The why behind the creation of the Revenants,” he explained, making his way up the staircase. “And I think it’s because of what my brother said once about creating life. That there is a little bit of magic in creation.”
Trailing a hand over the smooth marble banister, I eyed his back. It was always odd to hear him speaking of Eythos without bitterness or anger and instead with wistfulness.
“A part that was unknown and unplanned. Magic of the realms—in the eather of it all,” he said, the statement reminding me of something Holland would say. “Eythos claimed that whatever the creator felt at the time of creation often shaped it. That even a hint of joy, sorrow, desperation, or anger could mold the life of the creation before it even began,” he said, following the winding path of the staircase as a faint sheen of sweat broke out on my forehead. “When I create the Revenants, I feel only duty. But with Callum, I felt…I felt everything. Desperation. Anger. Sorrow. Even joy at being close to one who shares your blood.”
My lip curled.
“Eythos would say what I felt when returning life to Callum is why he’s different. That my emotions brought who he was back when I restored his life.”
Up ahead, the light of dusk filled the landing. “But I don’t think that’s right.”
“Why?” My leg muscles cramped, either from lack of use or from the tiredness Kolis had commented on.
“Because I have made myself feel those things when creating other Revenants,” he explained, reaching the landing several steps before me. “And none have become like Callum, no matter what I feel or think at the time.”
My lips pursed. He truly didn’t know why. It was so obvious to me. What he felt when resurrecting Callum had been real. The other times? Emotions could only be faked to a point, and even if one managed to convince others of it, even themself, it didn’t make the emotion real. I knew that better than anyone.
But Kolis? He may have understood emotion at one time, but he didn’t now.
“Either way,” Kolis said, facing me, “I suppose it is a blessing. I prefer my Revenants the way they are.”