[ Over the quieted table, the downward drift of scrap — cloth and blood, condensation, magic, Subaru's fingers curl and recede. Blood scrying is ruinous work. It begets too many mouths, too many teeth. Unlike the elements, it pulses alive. Capillary to root nerve... should this child not forgive his curiosity, he suspects he'll bear witness to them in time. Even if only in the way a predator tests the landscape of its consciousness: by bite. ]

No. It has power, [ that word weighs on his tongue like it has a taste. ] but not divinity.

[ Because there is a difference between a god ordained by its heavenly birth and a god made so by another's will. One is knowable. One is — knowable. ]

He may be like a god from where we stand. But it also might be that his power was given to him.