Dedication

Infinite possibilities onto infinite impossibilities—anything was possible in the Ceaseless Realm where the gods dwelled. Khaxdros could’ve brought him anywhere, dreamed up any scene, any environment, but he chose his prison: the endless expanse of the Constant swirling around them, swallowing the stars in a kaleidoscopic abyss of color. The pull into a world with no world made him lightheaded and weak; dangled precariously like a marionette on the convictions of his god alone. But Ezra knew what to expect when he answered his patron’s call. His body was now His—Khaxdros may do with it whatever he liked.

The breadth of Khaxdros could be felt even with the distance between them. The Progenitor God of Eyes, Sight, and Perception, the Far-Seeing Father, the Hex-Wingéd One, He Who Sees All, the god Ezra unwittingly made a pact with loomed, his six wings unfurled to cast a shadow over him. To see his patron god in his entirety was both vexing and thrilling; Ezra couldn’t deny the beauty of him, but neither could he deny the power sight of him invoked. To stand before any god was terrifying, but such fear paled in comparison before the source of it all.

Dark eyes fluttered up to dark eyes boring into him. Ezra wanted to avert his gaze, to give in again, but he steeled his resolve and refused himself any iota of weakness. Khaxdros’s intensity wasn’t borne of malice this time, but of challenge, of pressure. The words went unsaid, but Ezra could feel them in the core of his being: “You’ve made your choice. Now is the time to answer to it.”

“EZRA.” Khaxdros’s voice didn’t command his attention, but spoke with an uncharacteristic gentleness, like a mutter between schoolboys in the midst of class.

Ezra took a moment and let out a breath, filled his lungs with a cold rush of air. It was different for him to hear his name spoken in such a manner; a possibility he couldn’t conceive of. Yet, his god called to him, called to him earnestly, and he had but to answer.

“I’ve come,” Ezra said after a beat. “I’ve answered your call as I said I would. I told you I wouldn’t run.”

“AS I HAVE COME TO SEE,” Khaxdros said. “THE WEIGHT OF YOUR WORDS AND DEDICATION IS MET WITH MY ENDLESS APPRECIATION. HOWEVER…” Though the god’s face provided little in the way of expression, Ezra could read the uncertainty in the crinkle of his multiple eyes. “THE CONSEQUENCES OF YOUR CHOICE WILL RING THROUGHOUT THE AGES. ARE YOU PREPARED TO SHOULDER THE BURDEN OF THEM?”

Ezra was prepared for his question and couldn’t help the light laugh that escaped him. “Of course, I am,” he replied. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

“EZRA…”

“I’ve made my peace long ago, Khaxdros. You needn’t worry for my well-being. When I said I wouldn’t leave your side, I meant it. I’m here for you. I always will be.”

The god’s eyes wavered, touched by Ezra’s words, then he finally reached for him. A grey hand closed the distance between them and cupped the side of Ezra’s face. His touch lacked the warmth of a human; cold but gentle, smelling of an eternity’s old ash and earth. Ezra wondered how long it had been since his god ever experienced such care—if he ever did. If anyone ever in his many years looked at him without veneration, but as a being deserving of, worthy of, love. It made Ezra’s heart ache painfully to know that the answer was likely never, until now.

Smoothing a thumb across the hook-shaped mark under Ezra’s eye, Khaxdros spoke, “NOW IS THE TIME, EZRA. TAKE THE VOW IF YOUR CHOICE IS TRUE.”

Ezra slid a hand over Khaxdros’s and leaned into his touch, eyes shut as he searched his mind for the recitation. As if in a trance, he spoke his dedication aloud: “I was once your patron, but I am a lone body no longer. My everything—from flesh to bone, mind to soul—is yours. May every drop of my blood be spilled in your name so it might be etched in the annals of history. May your children sing your grace in ages hereafter. This vow I make to you, O Lord Father, Creator of All.”

Khaxdros answered immediately in kind, “YOU WERE ONCE MY PATRON, BUT YOU ARE A LONE BODY NO LONGER. FROM THIS MOMENT HENCEFORTH, YOU ARE RECOGNIZED AS MY VESSEL. YOUR EVERYTHING—FROM FLESH TO BONE, MIND TO SOUL—IS MINE. MAY EVERY DROP OF YOUR BLOOD BE SPILLED IN MY NAME SO IT MIGHT BE ETCHED IN THE ANNALS OF HISTORY. MAY MY CHIDREN SING YOUR GRACE IN AGES HEREAFTER. THIS OATH I KEEP, O DEDICATED ONE, BRINGER OF MY RUIN.”

It was then Khaxdros’s other hand swept about Ezra’s waist and pulled him close, crushing him to his entirety as temple bumped against temple. Ezra thought he might suffocate from the strength of the god he knew was only using a fraction of his might, but his breath caught when he felt something unknown lance through him. Suddenly, untapped knowledge filtered in, muddling the mire of his mind. Moments, voices, and powers beyond his knowing became his. Though only a moment, Ezra gasped back to recognition as if he’d been holding a lungful of air for an hour, panting wildly.

“You… All of that, y-you—”

“THE LAST BLESSING UPON YOU,” Khaxdros said. “WE ARE NOW ONE. I AM YOURS; YOU ARE MINE. MAY THE WORLD KNOW OF OUR STRENGTH.”

A gentle smile creased Ezra’s lips as he twined arms about the god’s shoulders, pulling him close as gilded wings cocooned around them. “May the world know our strength,” he replied in kind, burying his face into the cold dip of his god’s shoulder and neck as strong arms held him close. “…Kaadniel.”