A Web of Steam & Puppet Strings (Sevastyan #1)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Or maybe it had been all in my head.

My injured leg quivered from the stress of standing still as I gazed up at Mother Earth and her conjoined fingers. She seemed as if she was listening, waiting, patient. She seemed as if she could be anyone, and in a way, she was. She was everyone. She was everything. We were part of her, and we shared in her beauty and her wisdom and her power.

Why had I left behind my previous life? The cozy cocoon of promise with my aunt and uncle? All of my possessions and my remaining family? I had told Aris it was because I wanted something that belonged to me and no one else. After my parents, I'd wanted something that couldn't be taken away.

'Why do you find every little temple and stop at every altar?' Ivan had once asked me during our travels. 'Do you really believe in her or do you enjoy in the fact that her people are gone?'

'I take away a little something more every time I find her, and I give a little something in exchange. It has nothing to do with whether or not I believe in her.'

Or was it because of what Isidora had said?

"You're so defeated by your father's own shadow that you never once thought you could obtain his level, that you would always be the lesser man."

Which one was the true Sevastyan?

Why didn't I know?

I shut my eyes, and the frustration welled up inside me, sinking a hot torch into my stomach while covering my spine with frost. When I shut out everything, I was left with words. Eliza's song.

The boy who had learned to pray.

If I needed something, I had to give something of myself away.

I dropped down onto one knee, the dampness of the dirt seeping through my trousers. When I set aside the cane, I shifted until I was on both hands and knees, and I pressed my lips to the earth. And I prayed.

The aroma of wet soil flooded my nose. The lingering scent of the previous storm painted the backs of my eyelids of that night I had sprinted between the trees and through the pelting rain, ready to do whatever it took to deflect the Movement from the others. For once, I'd had no plan, and I hadn't stopped to think about it. All I wanted was to prevent any of us who were left from disappearing. Stripped of everything, that was all I would consider.

Blindfolds, Lady had called us.

Even with holes ripped through my blindfold, I had still been blind.

He'd teach me how to disobey

The ghosts and break free

Someday

My head lifted, back aching as I shifted and peered up at her faded face. If there was one thing Isidora had been right about, in every sense of the word, it was that I was a Tangible. I did not act unless I'd thought things through. I was rooted, impassible, and perhaps an ounce stubborn. But I was strong, and I was lucid, and perhaps an extra ounce stubborn.

I had no room to doubt myself.

Cane in hand, I heaved myself up, staggering to catch my balance. I turned, and the others waited just within earshot, watching, silent. I hobbled to them and nodded to the amassing crowd around the Playground door. They knew without asking what I intended to do. I had to face them and tell them.

It was a ripple effect. One person spotted me, then another and another. From the windows, those inside saw me approach and rushed from their chairs. I had to prepare myself with a few good, deep breaths as they came together, facing me, expectant. The silence rang thick, loud, screaming in my ears like the thrum of a great bell. The wind smoothed back my curls like the comforting hand of a parent cooing away childish tears.