Chapter 41 #2
The god leaned forward. He kissed Goldie first, slow and reverent, sap-sweet and tender. Then he turned, cupped Splice’s jaw, and kissed him too, just as deliberate, just as full of weight. When he drew back, he looked at them both, his smile touched with sorrow and warmth.
“Both of you are dear to me,” he said softly. “You are bound now, to each other. Grow in that. Be strong in that. That is my gift.”
Goldie swallowed hard, throat tight. “But what about you?” she whispered. “When will you wake again?”
Mycor cupped her cheek, thumb sweeping a warm arc along her skin. “When the land calls for me,” he murmured. “When I am needed. And you will not be alone until then.”
Goldie sniffed, blinking too fast, then tipped her head back with a crooked grin. “Fine. Then I’ll just have to… figure out a way to manifest horny land energy. Preferably around Samhain. I want another round of ritual sex. I have ideas. Schematics. Plans.”
Splice choked on a startled laugh, color rising in his face, and Mycor’s solemn gaze warmed with mirth. He touched Goldie’s cheek with infinite gentleness, then laid his palm briefly over Splice’s heart, the gesture weighted with blessing.
“Goodbye, my loves.”
The air shifted as if the atrium had drawn a slow, reverent breath. Light rippled through the canopy high above them, dappling Mycor’s skin in molten gold and green. The vines along the walls lifted, stretching toward him in one synchronized, yearning motion, as if bidding their god goodnight.
Blooms unfurled suddenly then released their petals all at once, swirling around him in a spiral of soft pinks and dusk-lit whites. They drifted through the air like enchanted snow, catching and shimmering in the dim light before settling at his feet.
The koi pond brightened, its surface glowing from within. Threads of gentle blue magic curled upward like mist, coiling around Mycor’s antlers and drifting down his shoulders in soft ribbons.
The Thornfather, in a slow, deliberate movement, settled into the vast, sheltering posture of a live oak. His limbs relaxed, his rough skin taking on a deeper sheen of green and amber. Blossoms in his crown closed like tiny lanterns dimming for the night.
Roots shifted beneath him, rising tenderly to cradle his form in a bed of living wood and soft moss, forming itself beneath his weight with the ease of a heartbeat.
When his eyes finally closed, the entire atrium exhaled in a low, harmonious sigh, branches bowing, leaves whispering, pond water settling into perfect stillness. Magic rippled outward like a fading bell tone, soft and resonant.
And then, the god slumbered.
The hush was total and sacred.
Splice stood rooted to the spot, staring at the place where his god—his creator, his anchor—now rested in dreaming stillness.
A sound tore out of him, not quite a sob and not quite a gasp, but something raw and involuntary.
He staggered toward Goldie, and before she could say a word, his arms wrapped tightly around her.
He buried his face against her neck, breath shuddering, body trembling like a newly sprouted branch fighting the wind.
Goldie pulled him close, arms circling his back, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as if she could hold him together through sheer force. “Oh, Splice,” she whispered, not sure if she was comforting him or herself.
His heart hammered violently against her chest. She felt the tremor in his shoulders, the way his breath stuttered, as if the world had shifted and he couldn’t find his footing.
When the trembling finally softened, she drew back just enough to see him. His leaf-shadow eyes, usually so sharp and watchful, were blown wide with aching wonder and loss. Her thumb brushed the angular line of his jaw, grounding him.
“This is…” His voice cracked, fragile and low.
He swallowed, trying again. “This is the first time I’ve ever not felt him.
” His hand lifted uncertainly to his own chest, as if startled to find it rising and falling on its own.
“I can sense where he sleeps, but the space he used to fill in me is—” He shook his head, breath ragged. “My own.”
His gaze snapped back to her, desperate and searching. “What does it mean if I am awake and he is not?”
Goldie’s heart twisted. She cupped his face fully, grounding him with her touch. “We’ll find out together what that means,” she said softly. Her mouth curved into a smile. “You, me, and your terrifying jawline.”
He let out a shaky laugh, thin but genuine, and then leaned down. Goldie rose to meet him without hesitation.
The kiss was nothing like before. No wild clash, no desperate heat. It was a soft question and a profoundly tender answer all at once. It tasted of relief and exhaustion and the breathtaking, wondrous promise of something new.
When they finally broke apart, the sanctum was utterly still, save for the slow, deep breathing of the sleeping god. Goldie let out a long, shaky groan, the full weight of the last few days crashing down on her all at once. Her body felt like one giant, glorious bruise.
“I need a shower,” she mumbled, her forehead resting against his chest. “And sleep. Not necessarily in that order.”
Splice let out a quiet sound, a huff of air that might have been a laugh if he had more energy. His arms were still loosely around her, his presence a warm, solid comfort.
“I also want to sleep,” he said. The words landed with a quiet kind of marvel, as if he were tasting them for the first time. “Sleep,” he repeated, softer. “This is… new.”
Goldie’s breath caught. Something warm and aching unfurled in her chest as she watched this man, this being who had never needed rest, never existed apart from his god, look at the world with a kind of fragile wonder.
Her fingers brushed his cheek, tender and reverent. “Then let’s sleep,” she whispered. “We’ll figure everything else out in the morning. Together.”
“Yes,” he murmured. The single word held agreement, acceptance, and something like hope. For now, rest was enough.
They made their way upstairs in a daze, the quiet halls of Greymarket blurring around them. By the time Goldie pushed open her apartment door, the only thing either of them had left was momentum.
They barely managed to toe off their shoes before collapsing onto the bed with the quiet gravity of absolute exhaustion. Goldie curled onto her side, and without a word, Splice nestled behind her, tucking her into his body, the warmth between them steady and sure.
As sleep pulled her under, the last thing she registered was the slow, even rhythm of his breathing.