11. Creed #2
Also, according to him, it’s best to only have one so the system isn’t shifted even more.
Sevryn’s low whistle pulls me from my thoughts, and I flick my gaze up as our steps slow. Before us, Vihaan’s massive, chiseled statue stands proudly behind the large sarcophagus that holds his remains.
“Damn. Didn’t realize you gave him such an honorable burial spot.”
“It wasn’t really me,” I say. “After everything happened, my father left me here for a few weeks to get used to the place. Faron, Barir, Zareb, and Phoelius asked me if they could give him a proper burial. I didn’t even know what the fuck they were talking about.
I remember shrugging and telling them I didn’t care what they did with him. ”
My lids pinch shut.
Fuck, I was an evil little shit.
“Well, you were seven and he was already dead, so I get it.”
I cut a glare his way and he sucks his teeth. Avoiding little fucker. He can act as uncaring as he pleases. I’m not an idiot.
“Get on with your speech. This place is giving me the creeps.”
I flick my attention forward and swallow what feels like shards of a sword. Not only is this beyond fucking awkward now, but I have no clue what I want to say.
Sorry for killing you doesn’t really feel like enough.
I blow out a harsh breath as I step closer to the sarcophagus and lay my hand against its cool surface. My head bows as my mind races over words that don’t want to come.
This is ridiculous. Get it over with.
My mouth parts for a breath, then I slam it shut.
I’m definitely not muttering my peace out loud.
“Any day now, God of Death,” Sevryn says, and I groan.
“Vihaan—”
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end and chill bumps scatter across my skin as a freezing breeze tears through the Crypt. Unease coils tight in my chest and my soul swells so suddenly it almost hurts.
For the briefest second, I stop breathing.
“For the Valories,” a voice murmurs behind me. “He looks just like Seveous.”
My blood turns to ice.
My spine locks as the words slide through my skull instead of my ears. I blink hard and jerk my head from side to side, trying to clear the thundering of my pulse.
“I do pray he acts nothing like him.”
No. No, no, no.
Slowly—petrifyingly slow—I face Sevryn.
There’s a scowl carved across his forehead and his arms are crossed tight as he stares back at me with growing irritation.
Oblivious. Completely fucking oblivious.
He can’t hear him.
My attention flicks past his shoulder and my realm spins.
He’s tall, broad-shouldered, with a full beard and dark black armor clinging to his body like smoke. His face is a mask of unmistakable, familiar features.
Dead eyes lock onto mine.
Except they aren’t dead in the sense of emptiness.
No…
They’re very much aware.
“You done already? Kept your words to yourself?” Sevryn asks.
I rip my stare away from the apparition.
I got to get the fuck out of this Crypt.
“Y-yeah,” I force out. “All done. Let’s go.”
His nostrils flare.
“Seriously? All that build-up for five seconds of nothing? Don’t be a pussy. Say what you got to say. I swear I won’t talk shit.”
“Sevryn, we need to leave.”
I grab his arm and spin him around. I glance everywhere but directly in front of me.
“Sevryn,” my unwanted guest muses. “Of course he gave his son a variation of his own name.”
My stomach drops so hard it feels like the floor vanished beneath me.
“What the hell is going on with you, Creed?” Sevryn snaps, yanking his arm away. Tension bleeds from his shoulders as he stares at me. “Shit, you’re really pale. Everything okay? Yemi? Thayla?”
I can’t get the words up and out of my throat as I flick my attention an inch to the left.
I shouldn’t have done that.
The dead god tilts his head and his expression changes. His curiosity sharpens into realization.
“You can see me.”
Every muscle in my body locks, but I force myself to focus solely on Sevryn.
“Creed…” he mumbles. “You’re really starting to freak me out now.”
The former God of Death floats his way to Sevryn’s side.
Watching me. Waiting.
“He’s here.”
The words leave me before I can stop them and silence descends in the Crypt.
Sevryn’s face hardens. “Who?”
I swallow once.
“Vihaan.”
His features don’t move. Don’t twitch. If anything, he looks more annoyed than alarmed. That is until my attention slips over his shoulder.
A massive smile stretches across the late God of Death’s face.
Sevryn notices the shift in my stare and jumps to my side, damn near knocking me over as he looks around the Crypt like something is about to crawl out of the walls.
“Not fucking funny, Creed. This place is creepy enough without you pulling a fucking Riven on my ass.”
“The last thing I’m trying to do right now is be funny.”
“My, my, my,” Vihaan muses. “It would seem the power of Death has evolved.”
I drag in a slow breath through my nose and force my shoulders to relax.
He’s right. It has evolved. More than I ever hoped.
I desperately wanted what happened in Oddian with Mr. and Mrs. Armend to be a fluke. A weird reaction to my power boost. I can’t be delusional or in denial any longer. The proof is staring me in the face.
He’s a soul.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
And souls answer to me.
“You can actually see me,” Vihaan says, studying me with open fascination now. “Interesting.”
“Yeah. Well.” I clear my throat roughly. “Sure as fuck wish I couldn’t.”
“Oh gods,” Sevryn mutters beside me as he grips the roots of his hair. “You’ve finally snapped.”
“He’s real,” I grunt.
“Mhmm.”
“I’m serious.”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
My jaw tightens.
I want to snap back at him. Tell him to fuck off. Punch him. Instead, I stare at the soul standing three feet away.
He looks exactly like he did the last time I saw him.
Right before I killed him.
The only difference is he’s no longer solid. He’s bathed in a gray essence that captures every feature perfectly. He also doesn’t walk, per se. More so floats, though his legs move like he’s lifting each and setting his foot down. He circles Sevryn and his expression shifts with each observation.
Wonder. Confusion. Grief.
“He looks exactly like Seveous did when he was younger,” he murmurs. “The eyes. The posture. Even the frown.”
Sevryn shifts uncomfortably under my stare. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”
“He’s circling you. He says you look like your father.”
He both sneers and falls still.
Vihaan stops beside him and tilts his head.
“What is his power?”
The hope in his voice tightens my chest.
“What are you doing here?” I ask instead and his attention flicks back to me.
“What an odd question.”
“You’re dead.”
“Yes. I remember the event very well.”
I hold in my flinch. “You’re supposed to be gone.”
Some amusement drains from his face as he peers behind me and scans his grave. I swear to the Valories the Crypt drops a few more degrees and I barely suppress my shiver.
“When Obliteration tied my soul to Hell, it didn’t end with my life,” he says. “When they moved my corpse here, my prison moved with it. Death freed nothing.”
A chill races down my spine.
“You’re stuck here. You’ve been stuck.”
“Stuck? What do you mean? What’s he saying?” Sevryn asks while looking toward where he must believe Vihaan is standing.
He’s a few feet off.
“Oh, now you believe me?”
“It’s either believe you or accept you’ve gone mad. I’ll believe you for now.”
Fucking asshole.
“Stuck means exactly that. He’s stuck. He can’t pass on.”
“Great fucking explanation,” he barks and I run my hand down my face.
“When my father tied his soul to Hell, obviously that didn’t end in death. His soul is stuck here.”
The irritation on his face falters and his brows pull together.
“You’re serious,” he whispers.
“I wouldn’t fuck with you about this.”
“Shit.”
He rubs the back of his neck and Vihaan watches him like he can’t help but take note of every detail. The resemblance is unsettling. I don’t think Gladian and Seveous look anything alike, but Vihaan has similar features to both. I can spot some of those features in Sevryn.
So fucking weird.
“What is his power?”
I hesitate only a moment.
“Pain.”
He nods slowly. Not shocked or confused. More so deeply disappointed.
A humorless breath leaves him.
“Of course Seveous passed that curse to his son.”
“They’re nothing alike,” I grit out.
Sevryn whips his attention between me and the empty space.
“I really fucking hate not being part of this conversation. Especially when I know the two of you are talking about me.”
I sigh, then recap the brief interaction.
“Yeah, don’t get your soul in a twist. I’m nothing like him.” Sevryn snarls.
“How long has it been?” Vihaan asks suddenly, pulling my attention.
“How long has what been?”
“How long have I been dead?”
A whistle blows in my ears, sharp and painful.
“Twenty-eight years,” I say.
He nods again with an understanding I don’t comprehend.
“I quit trying to keep track after a few days and once I finally gave up, time truly wasn’t important anymore.”
I can’t fathom how that’s true. I live with the God of Time and he’s constantly harping on how precious time is. Maybe it’s different for souls.
Gods. I can’t imagine.
Twenty-eight years trapped inside this Crypt. Alone.
Unable to leave. Unable to die fully.
“After twenty-eight years, what brought you here today, Creed?”
My jaw flexes hard enough to ache. Coming here to alleviate my guilt or whatever has been pestering me seems so fucking ridiculous now.
“Gladian shared the truth of yours, his, and Seveous’s past. I just wanted to pay my respects. Apologize.”
“Apologize? For what? Killing me?” he asks and I squeeze my eyes shut.
“I’m definitely missing some dark emotional shit right now,” Sevryn says and I peel open a single lid to glare at him.
“You were very young and I knew my fate the moment you came into this realm. I had accepted that and was honestly surprised it took as long as it did.”
“That doesn’t change or justify anything. I still killed you. Now you’re trapped.”