Chapter 53
My heart began to race when I noticed the sea around me was black and three suns blazed in the sky with all their brilliance. I realized in shock that the horizon was stained red, as if the gods had spilled blood across the expanse.
“Of all the worlds, water worlds are the ones I hate most.”
I turned to face the speaker and found a woman with red hair prying open small blue crustaceans with a silver knife. She had incandescent eyes that glowed gold. I knew immediately this was Angelo.
Looking around, I realized we were on an enormous black rock covered in moss and barnacles. My body turned back toward the water and my eyes lingered there, seeming to search for something in the ocean depths. After a few minutes, the surface of the sea stirred farther ahead.
“They're here,” I said. But it wasn't my voice—this voice was masculine and guttural. This time I must have been in Oriel's body, and the sensation of him was heavy, dense like quicksand. The archangel dropped the blue crustacean and joined me, staring at the same spot.
“Is the bet still on?” my body asked while staring at the churning water. His heart was calm, his breathing beginning to steady. And me? I was terrified. Everywhere I looked was dark water, and the smell of decomposing fish turned my stomach.
Suddenly, I felt his wings unfurling from my back.
Angelo was doing the same, but it wasn't simply wings opening—it was construction: first the wingspan, then the skin, and finally the feathers.
I realized in amazement that these were healed wings; they had reconstructed them from scratch using only arcane power. The sight left me ecstatic.
“Whoever loses feeds the wyverns for a month,” she said, pointing behind us as she finished unfurling her wings.
My body turned to where she was pointing, and I startled when I saw twenty winged creatures in war formation.
They were all different from one another—some slender like serpents, others robust like dragons from Vinturian legends—but one caught my attention most. It was the largest and seemed to be the leader, shaped like a small sea dragon with blue scales.
Oriel turned to Angelo.
“Deal. But this time, I'm not going to be the bait. I haven't forgotten that you killed my prize from the last fight.”
My body extended its hands, creating a platinum spear; I felt him draw power from his bottomless well and command it to materialize. It was like building bones—the same sensation of fitting each molecule into place, one by one.
“You weren't even handling the ghouls, let alone the voracious,” the archangel mocked, laughing cruelly.
“Don't interfere this time. He's mine, and it's your turn to be bait,” Oriel growled.
Angelo shrugged, and he grew even more annoyed.
“This is a big leviathan.” The archangel materialized a bow and arrow, positioning herself, and tested the weight of her wings. “Good luck, little brother.”
My body approached the larger blue-scaled creature that was watching us attentively. He ran his hands over the bluish scales, smooth as glass.
“Kill as many as you can. Today, we bring pride to Mom.”
The creature bowed, as did all the others right behind it, and when they rose, there was a lethal calm in the way they stared at the sea.
Then, right in front of us, a black monster covered in tentacles emerged from the water, and its war cry made me tremble all over.
It circled the rock, embracing it completely, making the ground shake.
Its eyes were gigantic, larger than my body, and it regarded us like a feast.
When a tentacle whipped toward us, my body—not mine—launched into a run across another tentacle, heading toward the center of the thing while my consciousness struggled to escape.
Other tentacles thrashed, trying to stop us, but Oriel ran like a storm wind, jumping, ducking, and using his wings to maneuver at impossible angles as he dodged.
At the last moment, when a tentacle flew over our heads, my body leaped, a silver lightning bolt streaking across the stormy horizon alongside us.
Oriel drove the spear directly into the monster's red eyes with such force that it entered through the orbit and exited through the skull.
The beast disintegrated into black ashes, and we jumped to the next one.
While I recovered, the wyverns attacked, flying over the black waters. They seemed to know how to kill the creatures, acting as a pack. Some drowned after the leviathans pulled them into the water.
Angelo was in the sky, shooting arrows faster than I could track her hands.
When she released one, the next was already nocked, all of them hitting the creatures' eyes perfectly.
The water churned, becoming even blacker.
Tentacles emerged from the sea toward us, and other types of smaller monsters leaped out with their claws extended, but the archangels had no fear and reveled in the unbridled slaughter.
Their smiles were voracious, their shots accurate.
Millennia of power and strength, honed and disciplined.
The fight continued for hours, perhaps days, in the dream's reality.
After the initial shock, I found myself breathing like Oriel, but I noticed something different about how breath worked in his body.
There was power in each intake of air, as if he wove his gift into every exhale, the breaths leaving his nostrils like silver smoke.
The archangel was burning through immense power, but it made no difference—his reservoir was infinite.
After hours of slaughter, I felt the air change—and I knew that sensation.
My head began to pound and my body straightened, enduring the agonizing pressure.
Even the monsters cowered. Oriel searched around, knowing something big was coming.
Finally, on the horizon, we saw a black head emerging from the water.
It rose slowly, assessing what was happening, and when it stood, walking on the water, we were certain we were facing a voracious.
“The prize has arrived.” Oriel wiped the rancid enemy blood that had splattered across his face and gripped his spear tighter. Then, with a smile, he hurled himself at the black figure glaring back at him with equal fury.
Δ
And there I was, feeling like a wanted fugitive as I crept down the stairs, trying to make as little noise as possible. Not that I was exactly running away from Zion, I was just...
Yes, I was running away from him.
I huffed, feeling pathetically childish.
Sure, we needed to talk, but I wasn’t ready to face him, and my stomach clenched every time I thought about what we did—or almost did—on the couch.
I knew Zion was training because upbeat music drifted from the back garden, which was a blessing since the whole point was for him not to hear me.
I padded silently to the counter, hoping to steal an apple and a piece of cake to eat on the way. I stared at the glass door with such dread that it seemed like the voracious itself might burst through at any moment. I put everything in a small container and spun around...
And came face to face with Zion.
“Good Lord,” I gasped, stumbling back and dropping my breakfast. My heart raced, betraying me. Embarrassed, I crouched down to grab the apple rolling under the counter.
“Were you running away from me?” Zion asked, getting straight to the point. There was a hint of amusement in his voice.
My cheeks flushed as I picked up the apple, avoiding his gaze.
“Me? No! I was just leaving in a hurry because I’m late,” I lied, carrying the apple to the sink and rinsing it with soap.
I wrapped it up again and went to the counter to put everything in my bag.
I could feel his gaze on me—probing, provoking, daring me to look back—but I didn’t have the courage.
I looked everywhere but at him. My hands trembled as I unzipped my bag and tucked the container inside.
While I fumbled, Zion walked toward me. I thought he was going to grab a plate from the cabinet, but to my surprise, he stopped behind me and gently touched my elbows, sliding his hands down my forearms until he reached my trembling hands.
“You’re half an hour early, so I can only deduce that you were running away from me, which leaves me terribly hurt,” he murmured close to my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “I didn’t know you were the type of woman who runs away the morning after, Kyller. I feel used.”
Heat spread through me as I remembered what that mouth, so close to my ear, had done the night before.
I took a deep breath and turned to face Zion, who had me cornered.
My gaze traveled from his chest to his perfectly square jaw and finally to his eyes.
They shone with the brightness of a thousand suns.
Only then did I let myself breathe in relief.
“I’m sorry.” It was the first thing I managed to say. “I was avoiding you because I’m ashamed of myself. I’m sorry for pushing you past your limits...”
Zion pressed a finger to my lips and pushed my bag aside on the counter with his other hand. Then he put his hands on my waist and lifted me gently until I was sitting on the cold marble.
“Are you crazy?” I asked, squirming to get down. “Zion, no! We can’t get this close.”
But before I could process what was happening, he stepped between my knees and pulled me into a hug. His arms wrapped around my waist, drawing me against him, and suddenly my face was nestled in his neck.
“Don’t ruin this moment,” he murmured, breathing in the scent of my hair and kissing my temple.
I just stayed there, still, breathing him in and accepting that infinitely warm embrace. Finally, I raised my arms too, wrapping them around his neck, and allowed myself to relax against his skin.
After a few minutes, he pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes, hooking two fingers under my chin and tilting my face up to meet his gaze.