The Young Gods (The Young Gods #1) [NEW DRAFT]

•capítulo uno // chapter one•

It has been six years since Eden Tudor was formally inducted into the prestigious ranks of the Sentinels, but sometimes he wishes that he had never left his hometown of Everfall.

This wish is even more prominent now, when his best friend hands him an instrument of torture. It's a long, sharp, pronged thing, designed to grab hold of flesh and twist and cut until only bone remains. His comrades call it an answer. His best friend calls it a solution. But to Eden, it's brutal. Deadly. Singing, horribly, with all of the lives it has taken. There's still blood on it from last time, and the thought makes his stomach churn. If the word revolting had a physical form, it would be what he holds in his two hands.

"Focus," says a quiet voice. Valentine. "Remember where you are."

Eden dares to look up. Valentine, his best and only friend of six whole years, stands to his left, glowing cobalt eyes piercing the half-light. Those eyes are scrutinizing Eden, watching the way he stands a full foot away, the way he touches the tool gingerly in his gloved hands, probably even the way he gulps under pressure. Or maybe Valentine's not watching that at all. Maybe he's watching the strings of emotion and energy that supposedly hang in the air, suspended within the weave of the universe. Not that Eden's ever seen those strings, himself. He's not the right kind of person.

Valentine waits expectantly still, though a few moments of silence have passed. Eden doesn't know why he bothers. Each time Val practically drags him down into the bowels of the Citadel- the home of the city's Sentinels, as well as a prison for the country's most high-profile criminals- two things happen: Eden protests or vomits or both, and no good ever comes of it.

Eden steels his resolve and looks to their charge for today. It's a man hanging from the ceiling on a chain wrapped tight around his ankle. Just below where the chain clamps tight on his skin, a bullet wound stains his clothing with blood. He lets out a small whimper when Eden nears him.

"I don't remember," he sputters, blinking away the blood that streams from one of his nostrils into his eyes. "I swear that I don't remember. It wasn't me."

The glow from Valentine's eyes pulses. He's reading the weave for sure, now, as those with the Sight usually do. Then his eyes lower- he holds up a piece of parchment and recites the information written on it.

"Señor Juan Cortez. Forty-two. Merchant of exotic wares." Val circles Cortez while Eden looks silently on, his monotone echoing through the sparse, dimly lit chamber. "Known for importing gunpowder from the Vesennan Empire. You assemble pistols in your spare time. This is you, isn't it?

Cortez's chest heaves. "Yes, but-"

"And you were retrieved inside Solaris Palace, correct?"

"But... but I have no idea how..."

"With a loaded pistol in your possession, Señor?" Val presses.

"I..."

Val tucks the paper into his pocket. "Eden," he murmurs. "I need answers."

"Please!" Cortez exclaims. "I can explain!"

"Explain what, exactly?" Val crouches in front of Cortez so that they're eye to eye. The look of those glowing irises are unnerving that close; Eden knows firsthand. "You snuck into the palace with a loaded pistol and searched the king's quarters. When you couldn't find him, you stormed the throne room, hoping for better luck. What were you hoping to find? A king to kill?" Val shakes his head, dark hair finding its way into his eyelashes. "You'll explain nothing. Clearly, you have nothing left to say."

"No. Head Sentinel. Please." When he finds no purchase with Val, Cortez moves on to Eden. "Señor, you have to believe me." Tears leak out of the corners of his eyes. "I can't take this anymore. There's been a mistake. I couldn't have..."