Thayla #2
My eyebrows shoot up as Sevryn’s, Gladian’s, and Mara’s stares sear into my cheeks.
What the fuck?
I clear my throat.
“Uh…you can rise.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
They stand while keeping their heads bowed as they open the doors to the Division for us. I cut my eyes over to Sevryn, who’s no fucking help. He just shrugs and motions me forward.
The click of our boots across the room is louder than necessary as every being in here falls quiet. The fine hairs across my body stand and I flex my fingers to control their twitching.
I relax the slightest bit as the familiar god bursts through the door and races over to us.
“Ma’am.” He dips his head and my confusion deepens. “Welcome home. When the God of Death issued his decree that you may come and go as you please, I didn’t expect your visit to be so soon.”
What the actual fuck, Creed?
Secretive, annoying ass.
I suppose smart on his part, though. Never know when I might get thrown down here again.
This also takes care of the figuring out how to get back out part.
I clear any surprise from my face and grace him with as much of a smile as I can muster up.
“I didn’t expect it either, so sorry for the lack of notice. I need to speak with the God of Redemption, the God of Treachery, and the God of Judgment, please.”
His eyes blink repeatedly before he collects himself.
“Right away, of course. Follow me.”
He spins around and we follow behind him as he leads us toward the same hall we walked down last time. None of us speak, but I swear I sense Gladian’s and Mara’s unease.
The god…I’m so tired of calling him that.
“What’s your name?” I ask as he opens the door that doesn’t have Creed’s power embedded in it.
“Oh…it’s Faron, ma’am.”
“Faron, thank you.”
Surprise shifts across his face again, then he bows his head.
“I’ll send a summons for them now, ma’am. You all may wait here.”
He rushes off and my lungs empty as the door clicks shut. The four of us make our way toward the cliff edge and stare out over the upper level. Minutes pass in silence as we just…observe.
It’s still so crazy to me.
“You know you aren’t supposed to say things like please and thank you to them, right?” Gladian asks, breaking the grounding quiet.
“Why?”
“Because they’re underlings. You showing them respect like that gives them the idea that they have a standing and can speak freely.”
I scoff at his stupid ass and continue scanning the upper level.
“If he’s in the position he’s in, he’s paid for his crimes and earned at least enough redemption. Fuck, for all you know, he didn’t even commit a crime. This could be a very unfortunate role he was assigned.”
“You’d be correct. Faron has been the Division Hand for, oh, I don’t know, a millennium at least. He keeps everything running smoothly.”
We whirl around and my hand halts on the handle of Creed’s sword as I lock eyes with the God of Redemption. His smile roams across each of us.
“I’ll admit, I did think he made a mistake in his summons when he said the Goddess of Death was here requesting our presence. My mistake for doubting him.”
Very funny, my sweetling.
I lower my hand and he dips his head.
“I’m afraid we weren’t properly introduced on our last visit. I’m Thayla Godrun.”
I take a step, well, attempt to. Gladian and Sevryn grab my biceps and I fling them off with a sneer.
Phoelius smirks as I reach my hand out toward him.
“It’s my pleasure to meet you, Ms. Godrun. I see our fearless leader didn’t escort you today. Where might he be?”
“Well, well, well. The son of the God of Pain returns to me.”
I take a purposeful step to the right to block Sevryn’s way as he charges toward the God of Judgment. A mocking laugh falls from his chest as he steps to Phoelius’s side.
“Now, Delun. Do you believe it smart to taunt young Seveous? We both know how you’d fare against him without his restraints.”
My attention snaps toward that unfamiliar, deep voice. He isn’t looking at Sevryn, Mara, me, or either of the other two Domain Gods.
“Gladian. Long time no see, old friend. I swear the last time I saw you, you swore you’d never step foot back into the bowels of Hell.”
“Barir. You swore that same day, you were leaving this place. Still working on that, I see.”
My gaze bounces between the two of them. The God of Treachery’s smirk fades and the air grows tense. I don’t know what the hell that’s about, nor do I have time to ask all the questions I want to.
“Well, I greatly appreciate you all joining us, and I swear not to keep you long,” I say as I snap my fingers and grip the signature parchment and pen.
The three Domain Gods focus entirely on me, and I force myself not to shift.
“If you all could just read over this, then sign for me, with your essence, that’d be lovely.”
I plaster on the realm’s fakest smile as I pass Phoelius the parchment first.
Sevryn leans in close to my ear. “Really? You think it’s going to be that simple?”
“Worth a shot,” I mumble.
A moment of silence stretches on before the God of Judgment tosses his head back, laughing and clutching the God of Redemption on his shoulder.
“Oh, Ms. Godrun, I pegged you for something special that day in the Judgment Rings, but not a fool. You must know we’d never sign something like this. The God of Death hasn’t come anywhere close to fulfilling the expectations of his role here.”
I swallow down my own opinions and emotions, especially those I have about him, and take a deep breath.
“What expectations exactly hasn’t he fulfilled?”
His laughter tapers off as he catches the seriousness in my tone.
“He is supposed to be here, ruling. Instead, he comes and goes as he pleases.”
“And yet, when he was coming here and fighting in the Judgment Rings, you had no complaint. Why is that? What did you get out of him coming here then?”
His eyes narrow and I smirk.
“You know, I remember a moment while he had you strung up in his power, he lowered his voice and whispered something to you. Care to share with everyone what that was?”
Phoelius and Barir pivot toward the God of Judgment.
“Delun,” they say.
He grits his teeth and cuts his eyes at them.
“I may or may not have asked him not to devour the unredeemable souls.”
“Hypocritical as always, Judgment. You speak ill of him for not coming here and releasing souls, yet you were asking him not to so you could gain power from their pleading,” Phoelius says. He and Barir scowl at Delun in disbelief.
“Forgive me for finding a way to help myself.” He bows sarcastically with a mocking smirk on his lips.
“Unlike the two of you, I don’t get to sit in a cushy little level and have my powers boosted.
Barir, you frolic around in the mid-level and your powers just naturally grow as all those beings continue to defy and betray one another for absolutely anything.
“And, Phoelius, don’t act like a saint. You’ve got it easier than all of us. The upper-level falls at your feet because they know one day, you’ll see redemption in them. I, on the other hand, am well hated.”
“You asked to keep the lower-level,” Barir cuts in, voice sharpening. “If you don’t recall, I asked to move from the mid to the lower and you refused.”
A beat of silence follows that, thick and uncomfortable. Delun’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t deny it. I let that sit for a moment before folding my hands behind my back to keep from fidgeting.
“So let me get this straight. You chose the level that requires the harshest judgments for your own benefit, then you asked Creed not to do the very thing his role requires…and now you’re punishing him for honoring that request?”
Delun’s gaze flicks to mine, sharp and cold. “Careful, girl.”
“No,” I snap. “I don’t think I will be.”
The air shifts and all three gods stand a little straighter. Sevryn, Gladian, and Mara step closer to me.
“Phoelius, what is it exactly that you expect of him?” I ask.
He blinks, like he wasn’t expecting me to call him out so directly.
“His presence,” he answers after a moment. “Balance. Structure. Hellveilious isn’t meant to stagnate.”
“And it is? And you believe it’s Creed’s fault?”
Delun lets out a quiet scoff, but I ignore him. Barir rocks from side to side and Phoelius hesitates.
“Not entirely, it’d seem.”
My eyes roam over his strained posture. “But enough that you won’t sign this for him?”
His jaw tightens.
“It isn’t that simple, Ms. Godrun.”
“Nothing about this region and every piece of it is. It never is. So explain it to me.”
The bite in my tone catches him off guard. I try to rein it in, but it’s hard. They obviously know what this place does to him. Has done to him since he was seven years old, but that doesn’t seem to matter to them.
“When he’s here,” he says, “things move as they should. Souls don’t linger.
Bodies don’t build up. I can only do so much for those who’ve earned redemption.
I can move them to a more secluded, safer section of the upper level, but they’re still trapped here until he releases the hold on their souls. ”
That I understand.
I also know how to fix it.
“And what of you, Treachery? What are your expectations of him?”
“I have no expectations of him anymore. He’s let me down and gone back on his word enough times I know nothing will change.”
“Change is happening, Barir. You all may not see it in here yet, but out there”—Gladian points his finger forward and I stare at the side of his face—“it’s already started. She and her Valtrue have already started something.”
“So the God of Death can better the Godsdawn but not his own home?” Barir asks.
I take a step forward. “This is not his home, and it never will be.”
“Hate to disappoint you, Ms. Godrun,” he says, “but it’s only a matter of time.
He either fulfills his responsibilities here or eventually Hell spills over.
So one way or another, he will have to deal with it.
It’d be easier for him to get it over with and allow his soul to find its place here permanently. ”
“What?” Sevryn and Gladian bark.
Damn. I forgot Sevryn had already left the Soul Chamber when Creed admitted that.