Jackal Among Snakes

When Galamon touched the bright white within the door to the White Planes, he had been expecting and dreading dealing with many things. Would it be the death of his brother? Would it be the first time he’d killed someone in wake of his vampirism? He had confronted these scenes in his head countless times.

Instead, when his vision returned to him, he gazed upon a tall Veidimen woman sitting upon a white throne. She wore a white robe of fur, and had a bow across her lap. Various other weapons hung from her waist, and she had daggers lined along the robe’s chest. Her face was stern, austere, and divinely beautiful, yet her hard white eyes spoke of impartial judgment that would offer no leniency. Her hair was a long and untamed mane, making her appear even more ferocious than she already did.

As recognition dawned, Galamon’s heart thumped wildly, and he knelt and removed his helmet. His breathing was heavy as he waited, half-doubting what he had been taught. He had no memory of meeting Veid—why, then, would he see his goddess here?

“Lift your head, Galamon,” Veid spoke. Her voice flowed like water, yet carried such power behind it that Galamon felt a child again.

Galamon obeyed, looking up. Veid still sat there, unblinking, unbreathing. He dared not speak, fearing this might be some trick of the door’s design far less than the prospect of offending his goddess.

“You bypassed the door,” Veid said, slowly rising to her feet. She set the bow on the armrest of her throne. “You have nothing within to shield yourself with. There are no memories you have not conquered. But I remedied that.”

Galamon blinked, saying nothing. Those within the test could not mention either the door or the White Planes—meaning, who he saw was precisely who he saw. His heart beat ever faster.

Veid stepped closer. “You are like me.” She looked off to the side. “You spend all of your time in your own head. Deliberating. Agonizing.”

Galamon’s whole body shook. He didn’t know whether to disagree with Veid because he was her inferior, or agree with her because she was his divinity.

Veid again focused on Galamon. “Will you serve me?”

Galamon’s heart beat ever faster. It screamed at him the simple answer—yes, yes, a thousand times yes! But instead, Galamon said, “I pledged my service to Argrave.”

Veid offered her hand. “And if I were to name you my consort?”

Galamon couldn’t help but lower his head. “I would refuse. I made a vow to my wife.”

Veid was silent, and Galamon dared a glance up. Her face was stoic, ever-calm. She said evenly, “And that is why you are here—because you would refuse me twice for the sake of your word alone. Worry not. I never expected you to agree. I do not often choose mortals to represent me. Few are worthy.”

Galamon lowered his head further until it touched the ground—whatever the surface was, it was cold and painful. “I am not one of the few. I should not stain your reputation with the corruption of vampirism, even if I am cured.”

“I decide that.” Veid leaned down and grabbed his shoulders, then pulled him to his feet as easily as though he was a child. As he adjusted, she asked, “Do you wish to champion me?”

Galamon went silent for a few minutes, staring into the eyes of his goddess. He didn’t feel he could muster the words ‘no’ if he tried. He nodded.

as an icy blizzard. His brain filled with knowledge of her power, her blessing… and it

from his chest and walked away even as Galamon gathered himself. “Keep it up,” she told him, the weapons on her waist clanging as she walked away. Then, as though her throne was a door, she retrieved her bow and walked inside… and Veid was

never quite understood why people disliked his brevity until now, left wanting as he was. He looked around at the White Planes, finally perceiving his surroundings. There were rolling hills of whiteness, almost like the flat mesas or plains

he knew that Veid would not again appear, Galamon walked back to his helmet

out of thin air. Galamon’s eyes widened,

didn’t know where to begin, but a question rose

in reflection. “Kind of like… a final

what way?” Galamon

the whiteness within. I saw me. The old me. I asked for a little refresher about certain things, and I

“That’s it?” Galamon asked.

“I think all the old me really wanted was hearing that from someone I respected. And I respect myself, now. All the past versions of me, too. Couldn’t be who I am if I wasn’t who I was. Past few months, I’ve been coming to terms with who I am, and what my strengths actually are. And that version of me, good

helmet back on.

that right. But we’ll

#####

ate his meal in this decadent restaurant. She

your duck, El. Is

from what she liked now. He was sweet, gentle, and he was always available to listen to her feelings. She found it utterly insufferable. Even that nickname, El, made her sick. This had been the cause of her untimely

did I see in you?” Elenore shook

his meal, downcast at her tone. “But whatever it is, I’ll

when you gouged out my eyes, staring down

raised his head. “But you killed my entire family afterwards.” He toyed with his food

to the side. No words came to her. She remembered giving that order. It had been two or three years after the event, when she was just burgeoning as the Bat. Her power had been waxing greatly, and in a solemn night… she’d ordered Lazare, his parents, and his older sister killed. She remembered Felipe

that sense of power over people. To make her father be her personal messenger, bringing the news her order had been completed. To enact vengeance

remember that, don’t you?” Lazare

said quietly. Then, she looked over. “I gave that

it make you

feel better. It had been like pouring pounds and pounds of syrup atop filth. The dirtiness, the hatred, kept with her for all the time afterward. She never tended to the wound. She’d

I felt as terrible as ever, day after day,” Elenore mused,

why did

much power, too fast.” She looked at

he shook his

too far… but you betrayed me. I’m not really sure I can forgive you. I know that asking for your life in exchange for my eyes is… quite frankly,