A Deadly Bite

44.1 || Great Toll

"Can you kill a Synté, Father?"

My father's face jolts from the depths of his book. He has it propped carefully on one knee while his other leg stretches out straight before him, providing a platform for Izar to lay himself out on and sunbathe. The lizard's head jerks up with the same sharp surprise, his scales and mini horns glittering in the sunlight that streams into our porch, his eyes narrow and deep purple. He blinks at me, slowly.

Father's emotions are easier to read. His brow creases, mouth parted slightly as he fidgets with his spectacles. "Me personally, or..."

I giggle, sticking the pointed end of my elbow in below his ribs as I wriggle closer. His book jostles back and forth. "No. Anyone. You said they live forever, so does that mean they can't die?"

He releases a long exhale, his head shaking slightly as a crooked smile crawls onto his face. He brushes his chestnut bangs back from his face. "You know how to pick your questions, Noli." The line of his lips thins, and he steals a glance over my head.

I twist to follow his gaze and end looking at my mother. She's knelt on a soot-speckled ring of grass a little further from our home, her lilac skirt riding up her legs, her face lit in a flush of amber by the fire blazing in front of her. She twists a large strip of meat dotted with the green specs of herbs over the snapping flames. My mouth waters in anticipation, but I hurry to haul my focus back to my question, knotting myself in curiosity. Questions are good distractions. I hate waiting and the emptiness it brings. Knowing things keeps my brain busy, and I like to feel busy.

My mother shoots us a quick glance before waving her hand. The meat drips, and the fire hisses, eating up the fallen juice. She hums a laugh to herself. "Oh, just tell him whatever he wants, Rishi. He's not going to go around killing anyone. You won't kill anyone, will you, Noli?"

Something twists darkly in my chest at those words, laced with a chill, but I don't know where it comes from. I shake it away and let myself grin as I should. "Never."

She sets the meat down on its wooden stilts and walks over, dusting her hands. She ruffles my hair as she slips in beside me, ignoring my squeal and attempt to squirm away, then plants a kiss on my forehead. "Good boy." Her wild curls tickle my cheek and settle on my shoulder. Throwing her arm around me, she jerks her chin at my father. "Go on, then. Tell us a tale of murder."

With another sigh, my father tucks a leaf between the open pages of his book and sets it aside. He shifts a little, though I stay squashed up against him, peering up at his shining hesitant eyes and golden spectacles, all alight with wisdom. He turns his gaze to the sky.

"There are two ways a Synté can be killed," he says. "Neither are easy."

"What are they?" I press. He casts me a wry glance, like he's suppressing a smile.

"Be patient with me; Izar has more answers than I do." He reaches out to brush his fingers over Izar's violet scales, absentmindedly stroking the arch of his Synté's back. "The first requires another Synté. A god to kill a god, so to speak. This is a highly frowned upon deed -- as any form of killing is, in a way -- and therefore takes a great toll, but it can be done." His gaze connects with mine. "For example, Izar could kill Mira, but he'd suffer for it afterward. And of course, that's without mentioning the need for a Synté to share souls with a Tía in order to use their own flame, and so that toll would be inflicted upon said Tía as well."

The words race by me just a little too swiftly to be fully understood, but a few phrases connect. A god to kill a god. A great toll. I stare at him, waiting for him to go on, for once silent.

"The second requires the Tía that is bonded to the Synté." His brow raises, like the information surprises him too. His trailing fingers freeze near Izar's tail. "So I could kill Izar, if I wished. But that comes at an even greater cost."

My mother gives my shoulders a slight squeeze. She scoffs. "What greater cost is there than lifelong suffering?"

"Well..." Father shrugs, his face full of concentration. His lips quirk into a shallow smile. "Death."

"Ah." My mother's hold on me tightens. I bunch my shoulders, looking up at her in confusion, not entirely sure why I need such intense reassurance.

"It's said that to kill one's own Synté is the greatest evil of all, and only a second death of someone lesser can counter that. Not always the Tía themself, but I'd guess it's the most likely outcome." He blinks, and the distance in his eyes fades away, like he's pulled himself back from some faraway place of musings and wonderings. "Of course, this is all mostly superstition and could be a little false. It's only recorded to have happened this way once before, and even that may be a myth."

Mother's sigh of content tickles my ear, and I twitch, frowning at her. She wears a soft smile, her eyes dimly sparking with delight. Her fingers toy gently with my hair. "You can be so interesting sometimes, Rishi."

He retrieves his book, wiping a few specs of soil from its cover. "Sometimes?"

"Alright, all the time." She leans into me. "So--" Her voice dies out abruptly, and she mutters something I don't quite catch under her breath. "Dinner's burning. Hold on."

With a final pat to my head, she stands and marches over to the fire, fists on her hips as if she can intimidate it into submission. My father hesitates, then shuffles after her somewhat guiltily. I sit alone on the porch and watch them with a kind of serene bliss. They bicker and exclaim as the blackening meat is wrenched away from the fire by my mother's hand, but they're smiling, both of them, and that's a rare, sunny thing. I taste the calming sugar of peace.

Then the ground begins to sway.

The sun, despite the evening breeze, becomes a burning red eye in the sky, glaring until my skin sizzles and burns. I yelp, ducking under the porch's shade, but the porch is gone. My parents vanish, too. Everything dissolves into smoke.

Choking fear skips through me, rabbiting in my chest. I claw at it, but then it evaporates. A warm embrace of words loops around me instead.

Follow my voice.

Recognition chimes a note within me at once, plucking out several more strings that order my thoughts with more clarity. I clamber to my feet, testing the arch of my toes experimentally, as the heat of the world ebbs and flows into a gentler rhythm. Follow, follow, follow, it whispers, scraps of it drifting with my palm as I cut a hand through the air, though there's nothing physical for me to see. Come back.

A sigh sinks out, pluming invisible before me. He would call to me just as I've found my moment of peace. But I suppose even that peace was false, for I can see the cracks in it all now as easily as breathing, like awareness is a cloak slipped snugly around my shoulders. The warmth allows me to see everything again, but still I find my will faltering.

A small part of me already mourns the innocence. A larger part is afraid the memories I know now will bleed emptily through my fingers the second I leave this place, and I'll forget my mother's face and my father's voice all over again.

I dismiss the notion with a shake of my head, then tilt up my chin, picking out the fake imitation of the sky that domes above me. There are far more important things at stake. Fiesi is calling. Sarielle is out there, perhaps hurt. I have myself to claim back, and a battle to win.

My fingers curl around what might be the hilt of a sword as I slide my eyes closed, heavy with solid reassurance. A smile sharply curves my lips. It's time to kill a Synté.

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A bite-sized lil update to build us up to the conclusion. Someone tell Mayci and Rishi to stop flirting in their son's book. They're too silly.

See you in the second part, when the fun begins :D

- Pup