The Lost God, page 1
The Lost God
Sheila Masterson
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is coincidental.
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Copyright © 2023 by Sheila Masterson
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The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. Thank you for supporting the author’s rights.
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hardback: 9781960416018
paperback: 9781960416001
ebook: 9781960416025
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Cover Design: Andrew Davis
Hardback Case Design: Mike Sisak
Map: Mike Sisak
Editing: Lisa Gilliam
Proofreading: Mike Sisak
Contents
A Note from the Author
Before
I. The End of an Era
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
II. Into the Wild
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
III. The Exchange
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
IV. The Puppetmaster
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
After
The Adventure Continues in November 2023 with…
Acknowledgments
About the Author
To all those who will never be too old for a good bedtime story.
A Note from the Author
Dear Reader,
This book includes some content that might be challenging for certain readers. Please be advised that these topics have been treated with the utmost of care, but I always want my readers to be prepared.
This story includes self-harm for magic (cutting of a hand), fertility issues, parental death, violence, and explicit sex. Please proceed with caution.
Happy reading,
Sheila
Before
The cave stretched dark and wide before her, like the mouth of a beast waiting to swallow her whole.
Hours of honing her magic, volumes of reading, and grueling practice sessions over the past twelve years had prepared Cecilia Reznik to tuck away her fear and walk into the dark alone. Pulling ancient wisdom from these caves was what memory witches were born to do. Plenty had done it before her, and if she succeeded, no one would need to do it after her.
She stared into the void, the first of many stops required to complete the Gauntlet and release the power of the Lost God back to her people.
Rainer took her hand, brushing his thumb along her inner wrist.
“Are you nervous?” he whispered.
Cecilia shrugged. “Not really.”
“We’ve already done the hard part. We got here safely. You’re ready for whatever is in there, Cece.”
All day, he’d been practically vibrating with excitement, flooding every silence with animated chatter, but now he was notably quiet. She knew Rainer dreaded that she’d have to go in without him. They did everything together, and it was his job to protect her.
She closed her eyes, reaching out to test her memory power. It rushed up to meet her. A familiar and perfectly preserved memory began to play out.
Cecilia sat in a chair across from a beautiful witch who studied her like she was a puzzle. Cecilia’s powers had only shown up days before, but her father, the Olney huntmaster, was eager for guidance. He told her they were going to visit the seer to have her bonded to a guardian.
The seer placed a hand on Cecilia’s shoulder. “Yours is not an easy road, girl. It is hard to carry memory. It makes the mind chaotic. You will need a will of iron to forge the path that needs to be taken. The whole world will try to tell you who you are, but it’s your choice if you want to believe them. Fear will be your catalyst, and only you can decide who fear will make you.”
The seer gestured to the boy with bright green eyes who sat on Cecilia’s right. “This boy is kind, strong, and a hard worker. He will need to work to be the best, but he has that potential. He’s also a worrier, which means he’ll always be prepared.”
“But is he the best match?” the huntmaster asked.
“Don’t rush it, Huntmaster. This is a serious decision. These bonds are for life,” the seer scolded. “He is more than just a protector. He is a friend and confidant, and he would have more than just a usual guardian bond with your daughter. The two of them have soul bond potential.”
“What’s a soul bond?” Cecilia asked.
“A soul bond is a connection on the deepest level, and it’s quite rare. A regular bond will let your guardian know when you’re afraid, in danger, or hurt, and help him find you if you’re separated. It’s what most memory witches and guardians have. With a soul bond, you could feel everything the other feels. It requires a great deal of trust. Each soul bond is as unique as its duo, offering as much risk as protection. It can be a distraction as much as an advantage. It is a trade—an exchange. Like all magic, it requires balance.”
Cecilia laughed herself back to the present moment. At six years old, a soul bond sounded exciting. She and Rainer couldn’t have imagined how hard it would be to experience each other’s feelings so acutely that at times it was impossible to tell who was the source of the emotion and who was the echo. It had taken years for them to become attuned to each other’s ebbs and flows without being overwhelmed. Despite its pitfalls, she wouldn’t have given up a direct connection to Rainer’s heart for anything.
That day, he’d promised to protect her with his sword and strength, and she’d promised to protect him with her magic. It was an agreement that could be undone only by death or an excruciating process called severing.
She looked into the same green eyes she’d been looking into since that day in the seer’s suite and smiled.
“I can do it,” she assured Rainer. “I’ll be back in no time.”
She squeezed his hand and made her way closer to the entrance. Wisteria wound around the cave, blooming wide and littering the ground with tiny purple petals, the sweet scent of the flowers in stark contrast to the damp, mossy smell that wafted from the darkness. Energy pulsed around the cave as if somewhere inside the very heart of magic beat in a steady hypnotic rhythm.
Cecilia was drawn to it on instinct. Remember, it seemed to whisper.
She knelt in the flowered dirt, silently requesting permission to enter, and an eerie collection of whispers crept into her mind, forming one strange discordant voice—the voice of the ancients.
Cecilia Reznik, what do you seek? the voice asked.
She replied as she’d been taught. Wisdom, memory, magic.
The words were a shorter version of the vows made by every witch and guardian in Olney based on the principles that Clastor, the god of all matter, had shared when he created the Gauntlet. Wisdom to know that power is best when shared. Memory of our mistakes, as to not make the same ones again. Magic to restore peace and prosperity to the kingdom.
The ancient voice buzzed into Cecilia’s mind again. You may enter.
Cecilia stood, pulling her dagger from the sheath on her thigh.
All magic required an exchange. She’d learned that repeatedly over the years. To obtain the cave’s magic, she would need to pour her blood over the sacred medicinal plants that would later be harvested by healers and earth witches. She was part of an ecosystem that kept magic alive. A cut on her palm was a small price to pay. Especially when she could heal the wound as soon as she got outside.
She snapped her fingers, summoning a flame to her fingertips as she walked into the cave.
The farther she walked from the entrance, the more oppressive the darkness became, devouring the light from her flame until she could see only a foot in front of her. She felt a buzz of anxiety through her bond with Rainer and sent a bit of calm back so he would know she was fine.
She worried she had walked too far when she felt the sudden urge to stop. Looking down, she found a crop of vibrant plants.
Make your exchange, the ancient voice whispered.
She released the fire magic, allowing her eyes to adjust to the inky blackness of the space as she cut her hand without flinching. Blood given with fear and resistance led to less potent magic, but blood given freely created robust power.
She dribbled the blood over the plants. Moments passed, and she breathed deep, keeping her heart rate low and her mind clear.
A thread of fear that the magic might somehow overwhelm her bloomed in the eerie silence.
That
Cecilia wrapped linen around her palm and turned toward the voice.
Hold out your hand. An ancient spirit appeared, a faint and flickering light in the dark. She placed her palm over the spirit’s.
There was a gentle brush against her mind, and she let it in despite her fear. She closed her eyes and waited for a memory to come to life behind her lids.
Only you can decide who fear will make you, the seer had said.
Cecilia let it make her a warrior.
1
Freedom was expensive.
Though all of Cecilia Reznik’s life revolved around exchanges, none were as costly as the bits of freedom she carved out for herself. She paid in uncomfortable dresses, tedious conversations at afternoon teas, and exhaustive hours of magic and combat training.
At the moment, liberation would cost only a headache—a price she’d gladly pay to prove a point to the man who had lifted her off the ground. She huffed a breath, swinging her legs up and thrusting her head back into the side of his face.
It wasn’t a direct hit, but it was enough to get him to drop her. Cecilia spun to face her opponent. She took a swing with her right fist, but he ducked out of the way. The next few minutes were a maddening dance, as hardly a single punch or elbow connected. He knew how furious it made her when he picked her up and counted on it making her sloppy.
Rainer gave her a teasing grin as he put his hands up and stepped away to let her catch her breath.
Cecilia learned to fight from the time she was young. Her father insisted on it, even though it was frowned upon for a lady of the court to be formally trained in combat in the kingdom of Olney. His chief concern was that she knew how to defend herself.
Personally, she just enjoyed seeing the shocked look on a man’s face when she took him to the ground.
“Let me hear it,” she said.
“Stop dropping your right shoulder, Cece. You give away your movement every time. You take a breath when you’re about to move. If your shoulder doesn’t give you away, your breathing does. Smooth it out and try again. We have a month before we leave. I know you remember how to do this.”
Cecilia’s magic had always been about remembering. Remembering ancient magic and rituals. Remembering how to summon memory, healing, fire, tides, earth, and storms. And today, remembering her close-combat training if she had a prayer of taking Rainer down and wiping that smug grin off his face.
“Of course I remember,” she huffed.
“Could have fooled me,” Rainer countered. “You got so mad during training this morning in the practice ring, you summoned a storm in front of everyone. You’re distracted, and it shows. Take me down once, and I’ll let you sleep in tomorrow after the Godsball.”
The thought of being able to sleep in for one blissful morning was extremely enticing. He had her on a relentless training schedule leading up to their final Gauntlet run, and she was exhausted.
Rainer made everything look maddeningly effortless, even though he spent hours perfecting every movement and skill he learned. He was a master swordsman, a great shot with a bow, and so good at close combat, he could beat most of the guardians in the kingdom. On top of all of it, he was handsome, friendly, and liked by everyone.
The late afternoon sun cut through the branches of the wisteria above them, highlighting the russet and gold in his dark hair from hours of training outdoors. He settled in across from Cecilia, green eyes blazing—daring her to take him down.
In their sixteen years of practicing, it was still rare that Cecilia bested Rainer. As he loved to point out, the more hits he landed, the more reckless she became. Despite her speed, he had significant size and strength advantages, standing a full foot taller than her. That didn’t stop her from trying.
She focused on Rainer’s feedback as she settled into her stance. She kept still until the last moment, catching him on the side of the face. He laughed and ducked away as she summoned earth magic to raise roots from the soil, hoping to trip him.
He anticipated the move, jumping out of the way. The energy drained out of her with the wasted magic. It was stupid of her to conjure while fighting when she’d already spent so much energy earlier in the day, but at least earth magic burned through her reserves slower than most of her other elemental magic.
Rainer’s ease at evading her only infuriated her more. They traded blows until Rainer caught her in the ribs and she stumbled over the roots she’d conjured. Her head hit the grass with a thud, her vision darkening momentarily. When she opened her eyes, Rainer’s concerned face peered down at her.
“Cece, are you all right? I didn’t mean to take you down that hard.”
“You didn’t. The roots did. I would have still been on my feet.”
They primarily drilled in a scenic spot off the main road in the wild. The training grounds in Olney City Center were much more convenient, but Rainer preferred the grove because in the field they battled unpredictable terrain along with enemy hunters. So each time they fought, she risked rolled ankles, skinned knees, and rogue tree roots.
Cecilia sat up too fast, nearly falling over from the head rush. Rainer’s rough hands cupped her face as he looked into her eyes. Her stomach flipped as he let loose a barrage of questions.
“Rain, calm down. Don’t be such a mother hen. It’s just a bump on the head.”
She wanted him to stop fussing but not to stop touching her. Though she’d become better at masking the emotions that flowed through their bond, it was hard to hide the immensity of her affection. Beyond their connection, her expressive face meant that her crush on Rainer was the worst-kept secret at court. He was good enough to pretend not to notice.
Sometimes she appreciated it. Other times she wished he would just acknowledge it.
Rainer sat next to her in the grass. “Looking forward to being out on the road again?”
“Our whole lives have been about completing the Gauntlet. It’s strange that it will finally be over.”
She brought her hand to the knot already forming on her head and summoned healing to ease the ache. The tingling power settled in her body, and she made a mental note to eat something extra at the party.
All magic required an exchange, and healing was no exception. It burned through her energy quickly. She’d be exhausted if she didn’t replace the spent calories before a night of dancing.
She sighed as she met Rainer’s expectant gaze. Four years had passed since she stood in front of the first cave to enter the Gauntlet. Her mind spun, tugging at the strings of perfectly preserved memories detailing the struggles and adventures of completing the first seventy caves. Her memory magic was always itching to break free and pull her into a vortex of memories, both her own and others.
“These final seven stops are supposed to be the most challenging. We have to go farther into Argaria than we ever have,” Rainer said.
What he failed to say was that every other duo had either quit or died pursuing those last few caves.
“We could finally be the ones to do it, Cece. It’s a big deal,” Rainer said with a proud smile.
It was a big deal. Though the stories of the Gauntlet’s creation diverged and there were many tales, their magic theory classes explained that before he died in the War of the Gods, Clastor—the god of all matter—infused some of his power into the caves with the help of four ancient witches. Each cave held a page in a living grimoire written in the language of memory. The witch who completed the route would release the Lost God’s power back to the witches of their kingdom. Though even their finest scholars didn’t know exactly how the power could be used.
