own power?
She glanced up, waiting, and though time was running out, Eli played along. “Why?”
Benehime smiled, a cruel curving of her white lips. Because I was always the cleverest. After our father trapped us in here, the spirits were in panic. Why not? Diligent as the Weaver was, they could still see the demon’s claws on the shell’s edge, especially against the sky. Every time they looked up, they were reminded of the doom that was never more than an hour from breaking through. This knowledge proved impossible for the spirits to handle, and we had constant problems.
Problems, she called them, Eli thought with a mental eye roll, but the Shepherdess wasn’t finished.
The Weaver wanted to talk them through their fear, she said, her voice disgusted. He wanted to give them knowledge, to make them feel safe by imparting understanding. She shook her head. My brother never understood spirits. That’s why he was sent to mind the veil while I was given dominion over creation. I understood, as my brother did not, that all spirits, great or small, are fundamentally the same: panicky, stupid, prey animals.
She turned back toward the crumpling world. Look at them, she said. Even now, when there’s no hope at all, the whole world has launched itself into a pointless fit, burning their last minutes in terror and agony. Stupid, like I said. It was always like this before. No matter how my brother tried to explain that they were safe, the world never listened. Every time one of those idiot sheep glanced at the sky or the Dead Mountain, we’d have a panic. It went on and on, even after I strictly forbade them to look or speak of what they saw. That’s when I decided I needed a distraction.
She looked at Eli, waiting for him to say something. When he didn’t, she answered for him. Humans. I made humans in the image of the Powers, complete with a fraction of my own will, giving you dominion over all the spirits of the world. And then, to keep you from panicking too, I made you blind and forbade my spirits from telling you anything of importance.
“Why would you do that?” Eli snapped. It was a stupid thing to do, but he couldn’t help himself. “To put so much power in the hands of blind, ignorant—”
It was your ignorance that made it work. Benehime laughed. My humans burst into the world like a plague, and, since they could not see the spirits under their feet, they assumed it was all theirs. It was glorious. Where my brother had been working for years to stop the panics with knowledge and reason, blind human hubris stopped them in a day. The spirits were so busy trying to deal with the wizards who suddenly had mastery over them, they no longer had time to worry about the demons. And since I cut your lives so short, even the really awful Enslavements never lasted too long. Never as long as the earlier panics had, anyway.
Benehime’s face lit up with smug satisfaction. With humans there to occupy all their fears, even those spirits who broke my edict and looked at the sky never looked long enough to remember what they should really be afraid of. She spread her hands wide. Blind, ignorant, and all-powerful. You were my perfect distraction and, in your own way, helped save the last of a greater world than you could ever know. It was a brilliant solution, and no one, not even Durain, ever realized the truth of it. Truly, you blind fools are my greatest creations. Then her face fell. Too bad it was all for nothing.
As she finished, Eli just stared at her, speechless, and Benehime, knowing how rare this state was for him, reveled in it. When his voice finally returned, he was so furious the words came out in a stammer. “That’s it?” he shouted. “That’s why you made us? A dog-and-pony show to distract the spirits from remembering they were in a lifeboat surrounded by sharks? That’s why we have wizards?”
Yes, Benehime said, smiling again. Genius, isn’t it?
Eli closed his eyes. His first thought was that Miranda was going to blow her top. But the more he tried to make sense of the Lady’s claim, the more he felt something was wrong. The story didn’t sit right. Eli opened his eyes again, fixing Benehime with an even stare. “Why are you telling me this now?”
Benehime’s cruel smile grew sharper. Because, darling, you seem to be laboring under the false assumption that the spirits are your friends. That they should be coddled and protected. But I made humans to be the spirits’ enemies, not their allies. You were created to be the lesser but immediate threat. You are the feint, the ploy that kept the spirits from dwelling on the real danger. You are a tool, my tool to keep my spirits in line, and as such, you owe them nothing. Not your love, not your friendship, certainly not your life. I, on the other hand, am your entire world.
She closed the distance between them, her white hair rustling behind her. This close, Eli could feel the heatless burn radiating from her skin, but he forced himself to remain still, staring up at her cold, white eyes.
I am your creator, she whispered. Everything you have, every power, every breath, every clever thought in your head, I gave you. I gave you everything, Eliton, and you threw it back in my face. Now the world is collapsing, and you’ve come running back like nothing happened. But you’ve abused my generosity too many times for me to be lenient now, Eliton. If you want to leave this place alive, you must prove your sincerity.
She held out her hand and closed her fingers, leaving the first pointing down. Kneel, she commanded. And beg. Beg your creator for forgiveness, and we shall see if I am feeling merciful.
Eli took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the cold, stale air of the Between, and then, slowly, he fell to knees. Benehime’s eyes lit up as he leaned forward, lowering his head to the floor.
“I am begging,” he said against the white ground. “But I’m not begging for myself.”
Benehime tensed. What?
“I thought you loved me,” Eli said, sitting back up with a glare. “Forever and always, that’s what you promised.”
Why are you saying this now? Benehime cried, stepping back. You had your chance, Eliton. I gave you everything and you turned your back on me.
“You gave me nothing!” Eli said. “You promised me everything, but it was all empty. You only loved me on your terms.”
That’s not true, Benehime said. I loved you more than you can comprehend.
“You’re right. I don’t comprehend it,” Eli said. “I don’t understand how you can say you love me and yet stomp on every happiness I find. You’ve threatened me, threatened my friends, taken my lava spirit, and your excuse for all of it was that you loved me. Is it any wonder I rejected your sort of love?”
You understand nothing about love! Benehime screamed. What is your suffering compared to mine? Do you know what I sacrificed for you? What I gave up to have you with me?
Eli leaned back, looking up at the White Lady. “And do you still want me with you? Do you still love me?”
Benehime’s face softened. You know I do, darling.
Eli spread his arms. “Then prove it. Don’t do this, Benehime. You cared for this world once, so go to your brother and help him repair it. Make a new Hunter who can guard the shell before it cracks completely. Go out into the world and show yourself for what you are: our Shepherdess, our guide. Make this world a paradise. Give me a reason to love you rather than a reason to hate you, and I will be yours forever. I will love you, cherish you, and I will never leave your side again.”
His words echoed in the whiteness. Above him, Benehime stood frozen, her eyes so wide he could see the full circle of the silver shadow that rimmed her irises. At last, she fell to her knees, her white hair spreading around her with a whisper.
Eliton, she murmured, reaching out to pull him to her. For the first time in many years, Eli leaned into her embrace, wrapping his arms around her waist.
“Please, Benehime,” he whispered against her burning skin. “You were everything to me once. You were my beautiful Shepherdess, the guardian and guide for the spirits. We could go back to that, you and me. It’s not too late. Please, if you love me at all, help me now. Open the veil, go to the Weaver, and help save the world you were created to love.”
He felt her arms tighten around him, and for a moment, Eli thought it had worked. But then her fingertips dug into his skin, and that hope shattered.
No, she whispered. I can’t keep on like this. Not even for you. I’m done with this world, Eliton. Done playing nursemaid to its stupid, sleeping spirits. Done holding out hope for a creator who’s never coming back. She turned her head and kissed him on the lips. Come away with me, she pleaded. I’ll be anything you want, darling, but not here. Not anymore.
Eli sighed deeply. “Then I’m sorry.”
You don’t have to be, the Shepherdess said, her eyes tearing up. I love you. Forget this world. Come with
