Young Writers Society

Cassia woke to a sense of complete contentment.

Eyes closed, she tucked her hands under her chin and snuggled in deeper, smiling at the calm washing over her and the feather-down softness she lay curled upon. In a moment, she’d be swept away again, not in desperate, exhausted sleep, but in the pure joy of rest.

The ground swayed underneath her. Wood creaked as a foot fell and then lay still.

Reflexively, Cassia blinked her eyes open at the noise. She sat up in shock, awareness and memory crashing back. She’d fallen asleep in that horrible dark cell of a cave at the heart of a barren desert.

Now she was floating in the middle of the Giving Pool in Mithrinden.

It was night. Silhouetted trees along the water’s edge pierced the dark sky, which danced with stars. The lake seemed to stretch on forever, its glassy surface scattering the shimmering moonlight.

The moonlight. Cassia knew the moon was full overhead, but it shone too bright to raise her head and look. The moonlight sank into Cassia’s skin and filled her, and with each breath she drank in peace and power.

The silver, swan-like boat beneath her rocked gently as she raised herself to her knees, fingers buried in the soft, feather-like blanket that had so delighted her as she slept. But the blanket, the moonlight, all thoughts of these flitted away like moths when she saw the figure standing in the prow of the boat, looking up at the moonlight without flinching away.

She looked entirely human, with deep brown skin and flowing silver hair that reached halfway down her back. But somehow, with the intuition of a dream, Cassia knew who she was, and knew this dream could not be from her own mind.

“Mithrinde,” she gasped, bowing herself to the floor.

The goddess turned. Her dark complexion shone darker in the moonlight. Her eyes gleamed a pure silver.

She smiled, and the smile was like one of Mother’s hugs wrapping around Cassia, whispering in her ear that she was safe now and forever.

“Cassia,” Mithrinde said, stooping down and taking Cassia’s hand. “I’ve wanted to speak with you for a long time.”

Cassia drew in a breath and brushed away tears. She rose and allowed Mithrinde to seat her on one of the small boat’s benches, then sit across from her. Mithrinde’s skin glowed in a thin halo around her, leaving nearby objects diminished in comparison. Cassia tried not to stare, tried to string together one of a thousand questions, but words failed her. She stared dumbly up at the goddess, mouth parted in awe.

“Take your time,” Mithrinde urged, still holding Cassia’s hand. “There is no hurry here. I planted this dream in your head, drawing a portion of your soul into Empyrean, where I reside. Time is malleable,particularly inside a dream.”

Cassia finally found her voice. “Is it really you?”

Mithrinde nodded. “This dream is not only in your mind.”

“You’re sending me a vision? But I’m not even Micah’s heir!” The worlds bubbled over into a laugh, the first pure joy Cassia had felt since leaving Lhening and flying into the desert.

Mithrinde smiled with her, crinkling well-worn creases around her eyes. “Why would rank matter when it is you to whom I must speak?”

Cassia didn’t register Mithrinde’s response. She was still drinking in her presence, absorbing every piece of her divinity from her long, coiled hair to the opals that shimmered along her bodice. She bit back the inappropriate question that pressed at her.

Mithrinde tilted her head. “Go on, speak.”

She sounded amused. Of course — she would already know what Cassia was going to say. Cassia glanced down and said in a rush, “Why don’t you have wings? Or silver skin?”

“Because on Terra I was human,” Mithrinde said simply. “And I choose to appear as I did there. Well, a little younger and prettier, perhaps, and with all my teeth.”

Cassia couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. She stared up at Mithrinde and thought how absurd it was to wonder if a goddess was joking.

“You were… human?”

Something flickered in Mithrinde’s eyes. “Yes. Before the lunar Essences gathered large enough to call a leader. Long before any person worshiped the Night’s Eye.”

“How —?”

Mithrinde touched her shoulder and interrupted her. “Cassia, I can’t answer all your questions. These are matters for the gods.”

“I’m sorry,” Cassia said, abashed.

Mithrinde’s lips compressed and she shook her head. “You’re curious. It’s natural. But what I have brought you here to tell you is far more pressing than the details of my ascension.”

She glanced to the side, and then back again. “Please, sit,” she gestured, almost hesitant.

Cassia lowered herself onto the middle bench of the small boat. Mithrinde mirrored her, perching on the edge of the bench in the prow of the boat and clasping her wide hands.

She didn’t speak at first, but stared down into her lap as though deep in thought. The cicadas fell suddenly silent around them.

Cassia could bear it no longer. Her memories of the last twenty-four hours had been swept clean and shoveled away, but now they clattered down on her again and she sagged under the fear.

“I know, the Treatise is going to break!” she burst out. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I tried, I was so close, but I shouldn’t have gone anyway, I should have let Dad go, I was just trying to help him and now it’ll be my fault if it breaks—”

Mithrinde’s eyes widened. “Peace!” she said, reaching forward. A shock wave rippled out from her, passing into Cassia’s heart and damping her fear. It was the same peace she felt from her mote and sought so dearly, but amplified tenfold.

Mithrinde tucked a strand of hair behind Cassia’s ear, stroking her face tenderly. “You have done wonderfully, child. You meant well, and you followed your heart. And now you are exactly where I need you to be.”

Those deep, silver eyes radiated comfort. Cassia swallowed, still not entirely reassured. “But the Treatise—”

“Has some time before it crumbles beyond repair, even if the moment of the Renewal passes.” Mithrinde said. “It will not die suddenly. And its fate… is what I want to discuss.”

Cassia swallowed, ashamed at the emotion welling up inside her. “I don’t know how I can save it, O Goddess. I’m stuck in that awful cave. I don’t know where Fyn is. And Iona is crazy. She won’t listen to reason.”

A soft, sardonic smile twitched at Mithrinde’s lips. “She is not crazy. She is right. The Treatise is a prison of the gods. And part of it, at least, needs to be broken.”

Cassia dug her nails into her palm before remembering she was, in fact, dreaming. But this dream was real, and so was the pain in her palm as she pressed. A slow sinking feeling settled in her chest.

“How much of it is true?” Cassia asked, trying to keep her voice steady. “She said the Essences are the real gods. Not you. She said Micah and the other Archpriests imprisoned them for power.”

Mithrinde’s eyes flashed. “We most certainly are real deities. We elemental gods simply control forces of the external world, rather than the constants that govern a human heart. But yes. Although Essences is not a bad term for the forces that seep from our plane to yours, those Essences are organized and controlled by other gods, called empathic gods. These were humanity’s first gods, brought into being as humanity cried out, seeking to understand and express the conditions of this life. We elemental gods came later, as you understood more.

“I believe the current seven empathic gods are Life, Death, Consequence, Luck, Change, Endurance, and Duality. Half loved by humanity, half hated, Duality brings them into balance.”

“The current seven? Were there more?”

“Not usually more than seven, but yes, there were others. As the focus and philosophy of humanity shifts, so too do the gods.”

She saw the look of surprise on Cassia’s face and added. “Did Micah not teach you? A deity’s religion—”

“—is no more and no less than the hearts of those who practice it,” Cassia finished. “I guess I always thought it was metaphorical.”

“Less than you think,” Mithrinde said, smiling. Cassia felt a gentle touch of peace pulse out from her mote. “We may have the power to influence each of you, but all of you together shape us.”

Cassia reverently touched the right side of her chest where her mote thrummed. She, influence Mithrinde?

“Change is an example,” Mithrinde added as an afterthought, frowning slightly. “He was Decay when the Treatise came into being, and not well looked-upon. The fact that he has shifted from Decay, and that humanity has begun to venerate Change over Endurance, is… foreboding. At least he still seems to be bound by the Treatise, although Iona has managed to secure a conduit of his power.”

“So that’s true too?” Cassia faltered. “It’s not meant for peace?The Treatise binds these human — empathic — gods? What does that mean?”

“Mostly that they are withdrawn, that humanity cannot reach far enough to create a link to their power on their own.”

“So humanity had other magic. And then we took it away,” Cassia finished. Of course they could still draw upon the magic inside objects, but that wasn’t the same at all. It wasn’t like having your own power.

Gods, no wonder they were angry.

A weight settled on her shoulders. If Iona’s story was true, Micah had lied to her about the Treatise since the day she was born.

Was that why he’d fought to stop her from the moment she’d suggested she go after it?

“Yes,” Mithrinde said, answering Cassia’s thoughts too knowingly. “Micah wanted you to find out in his own way, in his own time. He was afraid of what would happen if you touched the Treatise and communed with with me or the other gods. But Cassia, the Treatise was meant for peace. At first.

“It was the key to stopping the wars. You were not alive then, but I remember, and so does your father. Humans versus godformed, and sometimes godformed versus godformed, day in and day out without end. Our people lived in scattered bands in desolate places, fighting daily just to survive, and we were losing. When Ashwythe brought the plans for the Treatise before the other Archpriests and the gods, we knew it was our only hope. It took trickery and all our strength, but yes, we bound the human gods, and without their power the humans could fight no longer, and each Order found its own land to thrive.

“This is the part that cannot break. Micah did not lie to you when he said breaking the Treatise meant war. Whatever hatred the human gods held against godformed before, it will have multiplied a hundredfold. You only need look at Iona for proof.”

Cassia couldn’t look at her goddess. “You call that a peace?” she said quietly.

“I did not like it either,” Mithrinde said grimly. “But I believed Micah when he argued it was our only hope, and now our course is one hundred years set.”

All Cassia could see was the imagined face of young Sasha, facing a beating for spending time with Fyn. That boy in Ashwythe, begging Fyn to let him go. How would those scenes have changed if they had protectors, parents, friends with their rightful magic? A dozen mages like Iona could protect a whole village.

And her father had ripped that away from them, then sat on his silver throne in Mithrinden and let the drakes do what they did best — dominate.

“Cassia,” Mithrinde said gently. “There is more. I did not come to speak to you about gods not your own. The Treatise binds us elemental gods too.”

Cassia gave a sharp, hysterical “Ha!” Panic was rising in her gut. She couldn’t be saying Micah had imprisoned her too. Her father loved Mithrinde more than anyone Cassia knew.

“It was not like that,” Mithrinde said quickly. “Not at all. Binding the empathic gods was planned, our last desperate measure put forth by Ashwythe. Ensnaring us too… that was Selach’s trick.”

Her silver eyes darkened to gray and a shadow fell over the boat as a cloud blocked the moonlight. The wind whipped ripples across the lake. Their little boat swayed.

“To bind the empathic gods we had to store up our power, little by little over time. Then when we were ready, we claimed we wanted to discuss terms of peace, and when the gods drew near, we sealed them away and rejoiced in a reprieve well earned. It was only later we realized that near the end, Ashwythe seized our powers and bound them up in the Treatise too, leaving our influence… vastly decreased.”

“Decreased?” Cassia repeated. “What do you mean?”

Mithrinde gestured to the lake around them. “Now that the Treatise is weakening, our power returns. This is the first time in a hundred years that I have been able to appear to one of my own in dreams. Selach cut us all off. Even from our chosen leaders.”

Cassia stood up and turned away from Mithrinde, putting her hands to her temples and tugging at her hair. It was all too much to process. Not the part about Selach tricking all the other gods — that fit with everything she had ever seen or heard of drake society.

“So Selach is free?”

“Alone of all the gods,” Mithrinde confirmed.

“And Dad’s been okay with this?” Cassia spun, throwing her hands down. “All the Archpriests, they renew the Treatise every year. They all know they’ve been tricked, and they haven’t done anything about it?”

Mithrinde looked like she was about to say something, then paused. She pressed her lips into a thin line before warmth melted through. “Cassia, my dear, why do you think I came to you?”

All the breath rushed out of Cassia. She looked into Mithrinde’s eyes, which had faded silver again and were crinkled around the edges, and the knot in her stomach loosened into wonder.

“You need me?”

Mithrinde nodded. Her smile was gentle, like an encouraging whisper in Cassia’s ear. “You’re the only one who can do this, Cassia. You’ve come so far and worked so hard. You’ve done so well. There’s just one last thing I must ask you to do.”

“You’re not… angry at me? But, the blood moon…” A knot loosened in Cassia’s heart. Even after all this explanation, she had assumed Mithrinde would have preferred Micah to stand in Cassia’s place.

Mithrinde shook her head quickly. “It was a warning to Selach and Micah and to all the Archpriests who sleep on their thrones, one we could only give as our bonds weaken. Rayne and Valja have given similar warnings already — the storm in Larisen, earthquakes throughout the Basin. More will follow. It was a sign of anger at our imprisonment. Not at you. Never at you.”

Cassia let out a full breath and the weight on her shoulders fell away. She slid off the bench and knelt at her goddess’s feet. “What do you need me to do?”

Mithrinde gripped her arm and settled her back on the seat. “We need to break the part of the Treatise that imprisons me and the other elemental gods. Without letting Iona set her gods free.”

“She said I was going to break it at dusk,” Cassia said. Which meant they had half a day, maybe less. She had no idea how long it had been between Iona’s visit and her falling asleep again. She also had no idea how long she’d been in the dream.

Mithrinde nodded confirmation. “With the help of Change and the other gods, she’s devised a ritual to mimic the Renewal and force the Treatise to break. But she still needs a godformed to channel the power. I think she intentionally lured you here, where the Treatise was first sealed. I suspect she is looking for or has found the relics we unwisely stored our power in, and will use them to replicate the presence of other godformed.”

“And I know how to start the Renewal,” Cassia realized with dawning horror. “I know the words. She could… force me to do it.”

“No,” Mithrinde said. “I do not think the false ritual is designed to allow you choice. That would be too risky for her. Unless I am mistaken, she only needs you as a conduit to interface with the Treatise. You knowing the words will be the key to our success, not our downfall.

“When you touch the Treatise, Cassia, you must start the Renewal. Do not wait for her to weave her magic. You must break the ties that bind us, and renew the bonds on the human gods.”

Cassia stared at her goddess. “But… if someone breaks the Treatise without everyone agreeing, that person dies.” It was the last great failsafe against war.

Her heart pounded in her chest. Could she die, if Mithrinde asked it?

“Ah,” Mithrinde said, “but everyone will agree. The powers of the other gods will be channeled through you, imitating the other godformed. You should be able to bend the other magics, as if they have chosen what you choose. It will be difficult. Iona’s spell will be working directly contrary to your intent. She wishes one part broken and one renewed, and you wish vice versa. But you are strong, and well-versed in both my magic and non-augmented human magic. I have complete confidence in you.”

For the first time, Cassia doubted Mithrinde’s truthfulness. Yes, she was a goddess, but how could she know if Cassia would succeed? Cassia didn’t feel strong, and she had nowhere near the magical knowledge Mother used to have. She didn’t even dare teleport, which was why they had to find Sasha, and look what a mess that had got them in.

But her goddess was imprisoned, and Cassia had the chance to make it right.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay. What about after I free you? Iona will kill me once she realizes what I’ve done.”

Mithrinde smiled, her pearl teeth flashing in the moonlight. “Once I am free and my influence expanded, I can help you in ways you’ve never imagined. Freeing you will be trivial.”

Cassia’s heart skipped a beat. I can help you in ways you’ve never imagined. What beauty had she not known all her life, because her goddess was locked away? Every time she had looked up at the sky and whispered a plea, would Mithrinde have answered in thought or feeling, had she been free?

Cassia needed to think, but looking at MIthrinde was almost overpowering. So she stood up, crossed over to the other side of the bench, and sat facing the other direction, putting her chin in her hands and staring out across the dark, cool water. The moon’s reflection shone a dozen feet away, single and perfect and cold, full and complete where the last reflection Cassia had seen in this lake had only been a half moon.

That night with Tilana by the Pool felt a lifetime ago. She had been so afraid of going against Mithrinde’s wishes, so confused by her father’s actions, but trusting, still trusting him. Now she knew why he had not wanted anyone else to go. He could not risk them learning the secret of the Treatise. It may have been a trick of Selach, but Micah had kept the secret and now he had been complicit in it for one hundred years.

It had all been lies. Cassia had come to save the Treatise, but now she saw that all along her role was to break it. She had thought her father brave, but now she saw he was a coward and a liar. Had he even really spoken to Mithrinde about her missing mote, all those years ago?

But that her father’s lies weren’t the only thing she saw as she stared at the bright moon. She saw humans bent under burdens in Ashbourne while godformed and humans mingled freely in Lhening. She saw Fyn in human form, fire creeping down his hands as he struggled to reconcile his drake cruelty with the kindness buried in his heart.

And finally, she heard Iona’s screams of rage and saw the desperate longing underneath.

Cassia had felt that longing. Had yearned for that guidance. When she was moteless, cut off from her goddess.

Gods, it all came back to Selach, didn’t it?

After some time, Cassia felt Mithrinde’s hand on her shoulder.

“Cassia.” She sounded hesitant. “Do you understand what I am asking? Are you willing?”

“Yes, most of it, I think. And I’m willing,” Cassia said. She hesitated, knowing it wasn’t her place to say what she was thinking.

But she couldn’t be like her father. All these years, and he had never once stood up against Selach’s cruelty.

“There’s just one thing,” she said, facing Mithrinde and seizing her confidence before it could slip away. “It’s not just one part or the other that needs to be broken. It’s the whole thing. The whole Treatise is wrong.”

Mithrinde’s grip tightened on Cassia’s shoulder, nails digging into her dress. “Have you not listened? The human gods are angry and vengeful. They want to annihilate you! Kill all of your kind, and leave us to fade.”

“But they’re only angry because we imprisoned them, and that was wrong. We need to fix it, and then — then we can talk to them.”

Mithrinde shook her head. “They feared us long before the Treatise, Cassia. What do you think caused the wars your father stopped?”

Cassia shook her head. That didn’t make sense. “Why? Why fear us?” she demanded. They were gods. Shouldn’t they be above something like this?

Mithrinde sighed as if weary. She put her hand against Cassia’s mote. It quickened under her touch, swelling with power that rippled through her all the way to the tips of her wings.

“They fear you because we made you more than human. You see, the empathic gods cannot give of their power. A human must learn and follow them until they master their Essence and can forge their own connection through their own emotion and experience, creating a conduit into the empyreal realm. The empathic gods can sometimes hasten that connection, but even before the Treatise many humans never formed a connection.”

Her eyes glowed. “While your great-grandmother and I — we figured out how to make miracles, for the price of a promise and a change.”

This was history Cassia knew. Her great-grandmother Evelyn had been the first angel. Mithrinde had given her a mote of her own power and from that mote had come a transformation. Part human, part divine. Godformed. The other godformed had begun at much the same time, in much the same way.

“I give myself to you, my angels, from as young as you can understand what you are saying yes to,” Mithrinde said. “Together, we are powerful. And that made humanity and its gods afraid.”

Cassia gritted her teeth. “But that’s so stupid. Why would we want to hurt them?”

Mithrinde shook her head. “How do any of these things start? Humanity fears what is different. So do its gods.”

Her voice was bitter.

“It doesn’t have to be like that,” Cassia said. She thought of Fyn and Iona and wished she could go around and personally knock that revolutionary concept into everyone’s heads. Maybe it would help with Fyn’s zealous obedience and Iona’s genocidal tendencies.

She took a step forward. The boat swayed, and the cold moon in the water behind her shattered to ripples and reformed.

She was going to do better than her father did. She wasn’t going to settle for injustice. Not on either side. “Godformed are human too. We’ve just got to show the empathic gods that. Let me break their bonds. Let me at least talk to them.”

Mithrinde’s face was perfectly still. Fear pricked Cassia’s heart — had she angered her?

Then, face still inscrutable, Mithrinde nodded slowly. “When you start the Renewal, you will have to face the gods. The Renewers always do. That will be your chance to talk, but whatever they say, do not release them. It is too soon to be sure of peace. There is always next year. You promise?”

It wouldn’t be enough, but Cassia didn’t have another choice. “I promise.”

Mithrinde stepped forward and lifted a hand. Drowsiness began in Cassia’s eyes and radiated through her body. Her surroundings blurred, fading until only Mithrinde’s dark, kind face remained. Her hand cupped Cassia’s cheek.

“Good luck,” the moon goddess whispered, and then Cassia’s world was lost to grey.