How a geis works

“That’s what Taylor did,” said Lisa. “She and I exchanged an Unbreakable Vow, of a sorts. I promised never to betray her trust again, and she promised to help me escape Coil.”

Amy’s brow furrowed. “And what happens if you break it? You die?”

“No,” I said quickly. “Nothing that extreme.”

Lisa laughed.

“Nothing that extreme, she says.” She grinned that grin again. “No, Amy, breaking it won’t kill either of us. What it will do is strip the guilty one of her powers. That’s what it does in the legends, right, Taylor?”

“That’s how a geis works, yes,” I answered. “When they’re broken, the one who broke them loses his supernatural strength and abilities.”

I wasn’t quite sure it had the same effect on, well, parahuman powers, but it stood to reason it would. There wasn’t a really good way to test it, though.

Amy had a strange, complicated look on her face. “Just like that?” There was something like consideration in her voice, a kind of longing. “Make a vow, and if you break it, you lose your powers for good? It doesn’t hurt you or kill you?”

“No.”

“Then I —”

“Whoa, now,” Lisa interjected. “That’s not all there is to it. Sure, the geis itself won’t kill you for breaking it, but that isn’t how all of those legends ended, is it? All of those heroes who broke their geises —”

“Geasa,” I corrected.

“Geasa,” Lisa continued smoothly, “died tragically afterwards. The geis itself didn’t kill them, but all of the misfortune that they suffered came from breaking the geis.”

I shot her a look and she shrugged, grinning at me. “I didn’t have much else to do last night, so instead of listening to Grue chew me out for the hundredth time, I did some research.”

“That sounds a lot like superstition,” said Amy doubtfully.

“Maybe it is,” Lisa replied. “But while I’m pretty sure breaking the geis wouldn’t kill me immediately, I wouldn’t put it past it for a bus to run me over or a stray bullet to take me out while I’m walking down the street — probably, if it’s all true to form, three to nine days afterwards.”

That…was an oddly specific timeframe. When I looked back in her direction again, Lisa gave me another shrug. “The Celts and their obsession with the number three,” she said, as though that explained it.

It…didn’t, really. That wasn’t how those myths tended to work.