IMPERMANENCE

chapter forty three - the god

Zachariah had taken the four mortals to an underground cave he found long ago. He had once called it his home.

One by one, he pulled each of the young mortals through the dark void of his shadows and threw them to the ground. The long journey must have winded their already delicate state. What he would do to feel so weak and so easily broken again, for just a moment. He'd long since forgotten the feeling of weakness, had it ever existed?

The four mortals stirred, cradling against the wet stone of the floor. Zachariah peered down at them, studying the twitches of their faces and the movements of their limbs. A slight twist of his hand, a pinch against their bones, and they'd be dead. What did Alessia find so endearing about mortals? About her kingdom she sought so dearly to protect?

Zachariah did the four useless idiots a favor. They were unarmed. Reckless. They beheld no sort of supernatural strength. And yet they were charging back for her, in hopes to do what? How so very noble to die from such stupidity.

Mortals had somehow gotten stupider. It almost made him want to smile. The urge was knocking against his skin, but then faded. It engulfed itself into the streams of his immortal blood. Too old to care and no soul to bother.

Zachariah hadn't wasted time chaining the four of them up against the walls with conjured chains. Without the Guntheran assassin here, there was no threat to be found.

The largest one, quite handsome in his opinion, began to stir. A mortal with deepened skin and curved muscles. Zeke, was it? Of course he was the one to wake first. So long as the mouthy, curly-headed mortal remained in slumber, he didn't care. He had submerged them all so deep within his shadows they would be too weak to lift a finger, and hopefully too weak to utter sensible words.

He could sense the larger one attempting to fight off the haze and mobilize his body. Zachariah had to give him effort for trying.

"Rest, mortal. You won't be moving for some time."

The faintest of groans escaped his throat. It caused the curly-headed mortal to twitch ever so slightly. The females, he assumed, would remain asleep for some time. His power would consume them both given their small frames. He couldn't even feel sorry.

The heads of the two young men were craned against the floor of the cave, facing each other.

They blinked.

And Zachariah could almost see as the very tips of their fingers ached to move, aching to find each other. Interesting. They were conscious enough, but not enough to cause him trouble. Good. He wished they'd stay like that forever. Although he could make it happen. It was very tempting, indeed.

Zachariah looked down upon them. "Don't fight my power, it'll only tire you more."

He knew they heard him. They remained staring into one another's drowsy gaze. Communicating through some sort of unspoken language.

"Rest. Let my power consume you, and listen," Zachariah soothed.

The mortals remained nonverbal.

"Have you ever loved something so much, you'd be better off leaving it to die?"

No response. Not even a twitch or a shudder.

"Me either," he grumbled. "Alessia's own stupidity will be her downfall. Her need for a human life and human soul will kill her. I should've snatched her away from that kingdom the first chance I got."

The mortals blinked. The female mortals remained still as death.

"What has mortal life given her that I couldn't? All they do is ruin you in the end."

The largest one's throat bobbed slightly.

"Think of this as my farewell gift to Alessia, saving your pathetic lives."

He could see the curly-headed mortal's toes twinge beneath his shoes.

"Are you a god?" the curly-headed mortal croaked out.

If it weren't for Zachariah's power, he wouldn't have heard him. The larger mortal could hardly make out his words, and he was face to face with him.

"I was considered such at one point in time," Zachariah said to him.

"And now?" he whispered again, still captivated in a sedative trance.

"I grew bored and left. Constant praise does nothing for somebody with no soul."

Zachariah thought back to that fateful day, the day he broke away from his siblings and ventured off on his own. When the earliest humans worshipped him and his siblings. How they were once the gods of the lands. How religion today is still centered around the four of them. It didn't feel like so long ago when he recalled it now.

To keep the mortal from prying his way out of the stupor, Zachariah rambled on as a way of distraction.

"There once was a world before yours. My siblings and I destroyed it. And when we grew bored again, we rebuilt it anew, and labeled ourselves gods as opposed to monsters."

Never satisfied. Constantly bored. There's nothing to amount to and nothing to surpass when you are considered a god.

"Do you regret it?" the larger one asked, his voice broken and hoarse. "The destruction you caused?"

Zachariah had never been asked such a question. He could only assume he meant the destruction of the Old World.

"It was for their own good," Zachariah answered as honestly as he could. "All you humans do is destroy."

"And you don't?" the curly-headed mortal asked, his voice slipping.

"Of course I do. And I don't deny it, either."

Zachariah hadn't noticed the female mortal stir from her sleep until he heard the softness of her voice. It wasn't the small one, though. It was the other Varela.

"You are a monster," she said. "No one can see otherwise." She'd make a good Watcher, he could feel it. She was relentless, desperate for power. Unfortunately, he'd had enough of this mortal bullshit, and enough of playing mentor. Had enough for a lifetime.

"I should've let you all die."