Eleanor's eyes locked with Ryan's.
She shook her head.
"The followers do not represent the God," she said. "The version of Pluto that death mages worship—it isn't really Pluto. It's a distortion created by the Twelve. That's why the followers of 'Pluto' on this planet are like that." She pointed at the page. "The real Pluto, is not cruel, he does not want more death."
"Okay, that explains the followers who choose him. But what about the mages, the ones that use his element, why do they act like that?" Ryan gestured at the illustration.
Eleanor was quiet for a moment. "My theory? It is not their fault, society does it to them. If you're born with the death element, you're treated as something monstrous from the beginning. Feared and isolated. You have no choice but go to the only people who will accept you— other death mages and their followers." She closed her book. "It becomes self-fulfilling."
Ryan smiled. "I didn't realise I was sitting across from a philosopher," he said.
