Chapter 27
Iknow I should be fighting this, but I’m not going to anymore. It’s starting to feel wrong pretending I don’t care about her. Pretending I’m not fucking desperate to touch her.
And maybe that’s because of the forced bond.
But… what if it’s not?
I’ve never been a man of faith. My parents dragged me to church, and taught me about Vaeloris and the Divine Twelve.
I spent my childhood assuming it was all a beautifully wrapped hoax.
In the centuries since, I’ve seen enough to know the Gods exist, but I’ve never believed they deserved the worship mortals pour into them.
…Except, maybe Vendra.
I won’t lie, my opinion of her shifted these past two months. I’ve watched her work through Amarah. I’ve felt her power ripple through the bond. Even so, I still don’t believe some glorified deity sits on a throne and strings together our fates.
I believe in choice.
In consequence.
In the twisted, messy tangle of decisions that build a life.
My path led me to Amarah. I don’t think it was destiny—not that bullshit—but I also don’t think it was random.
She said it herself: she could’ve sent me to find another Yldarwright. I could’ve left her cell and never looked back. I didn’t have to push for her name. I didn’t have to break her out.
But I did.
And now that I’m here, now that I’ve seen everything she is and everything she’s endured… I can’t go back.
Even if she is testing every last scrap of patience I possess.
I still can’t believe she tried to introduce us as friends.
Friends.
Pfft.
My little slayer has lost her ever-loving mind.
We left the springs three days ago and are now holed up in a small border town called Saava—wedged between Alameris and Nevadia. Atlas has family here, and dropping him off was the safest option.
And now… it’ll be me and my very nervous girl.
Amarah—who insisted on shoving Atlas between us the entire drive—slides out of the truck first. She lingers by the door so Atlas can follow.
Before he hops out, he stretches his hand toward me and flashes a wide, toothy grin.
“Behave.”
“I should be saying that to you.” I clap my palm against his and pull him into a quick side hug. “Thanks for everything, Atlas.”
He pats my back and leans away. “Let me know when everything’s settled. I’d like to… I don’t know…hang out. Maybe a game night. With you, her, and… him.” He’s referring to Lucifer, I assume.
I nod. “Sounds like a great time.”
As he scoots out of the truck, he mutters under his breath, “I’m going to hug her. Don’t take my fucking head off.”
I narrow my eyes as the door slams shut.
Amarah looks mortified the moment he steps up to her. He doesn’t hesitate to just wrap his arms around her and pull her flush against his chest.
“Wasn’t going to give you the option to say no,” he says into her hair.
She sucks in a sharp breath and for a second, she freezes…
Hesitantly, her arms slide around his waist and she returns the embrace.
I count backward from five in my head, because that shit shouldn’t last longer than that.
“Take care of yourself, Amarah.”
“I will…”
Two seconds. He got to two seconds before letting go. Acceptable.
Atlas steps back, but he doesn’t leave immediately. His expression softens into something that looks very close to genuine affection.
“I told the brute to let me know when things are settled, but…” He gives her a shy half-smile. “We’re friends. Regardless of how this all ends, get a phone and text me. We can send each other stupid memes that relate to Kayn.”
Her throat works around a tight swallow. “Alright.”
“That’ll be a group chat, just so you know,” I call out, loud enough for their normal ears to catch every word.
Atlas flips me off. She doesn’t react—not outwardly anyway. He steps closer to her again and gently places a hand against her cheek.
“One day,” he says softly, “I want to hear about that night… as your friend.”
A faint tremor crosses her features. “Okay. And… thanks for everything you’ve done for me. Your kindness especially. It’s been a long time since… I’ve had that.” She clears her throat. “Bye, Atlas.”
“Bye, Amarah. I’ll see you soon.”
He turns and jogs across the street after checking both ways.
She stays there, rooted in the middle of a grocery store parking lot, watching him disappear inside the pizza parlor. I check the bond and find nothing but silence.
A wall. Thick and immoveable. She isn’t letting me in.
Maybe one day I’ll figure out how to break through that.
I rest my wrist along the steering wheel and lower the passenger window. It clicks down and she startles, her head snapping toward me.
“Ready?” I ask, gentle on purpose. I’m pretty sure she was a breath away from crying, and I’m not going to bulldoze her.
“Just a second.”
She looks back toward the restaurant, her shoulders tightening. Atlas had invited us to stay for lunch, but I reminded him I can’t exactly enjoy pizza, and she’d immediately refused. Judging by her expression now… maybe she regrets that.
Lucifer has been gone for so long already—what are a few more hours?
“Do you want to go in and have lunch with him?” I ask.
When her gaze meets mine again, her eyes are glossed over. I’m honestly surprised when she gives a small shake of her head.
“No… I can’t say goodbye twice.”
She opens the door and slips inside, closing it gently behind her.
“Come he—”
“Let’s try to get some distance.”
She clicks her seatbelt into place and turns fully toward the passenger door, putting her back to me in the most polite way possible. “We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”
Alright, this has been the quietest forty-eight hours of my life. I miss Atlas already.
We’ve stopped twice for gas and once for snacks so Amarah could eat, but other than that we’ve barely spoken and haven’t left the road. We’ve stayed on Route 99—the single longest stretch of highway on Everhaven. It runs straight from Alameris all the way to Demour.
It’s also the only entrance that feeds directly into Demour’s heavily-patrolled border.
A wall was built a thousand years ago, running from the northern point where Xerkz meets the state line, all the way down to the southern border with Coldris.
Mundanes used to cross over looking for cheap housing, but most died before they even settled.
And back then, when we still had a president, the political heads of the three neighboring states took the blame for failing to protect their citizens.
So the wall went up—twenty feet high and impossible to climb without getting shot.
Some Dylox can survive there for a few days without showing symptoms, but the ones who actually live in Demour are Mundanes who’ve gone mad.
They’re not Necroth, but they’re not their former selves either—half dead, half alive, their bodies rotted in toxic air while their minds shattered and latched onto the waste like it’s a drug.
If the dead aren’t collected and buried outside the state, they eventually become Necroth. Zombies, basically. But not like Rane. From what I understand, Witches can use Ashspyte as an ingredient to restore them closer to what they once were, just… stronger. I hate the damn things.
We’ll have to stay on this road all the way to the border and decide whether we’re crossing as citizens… or criminals. They’re looking for Amarah, but I don’t know if anyone on the far side of the continent will give a shit. Hard to tell with Demour.
Before we left Atlas, she explained the plan: we need to reach the island just off Demour’s western coast. It’s the closest point to Old Hearth without actually stepping onto that dead continent. The more destruction and death in the area, the easier it’ll be for her to summon the gates.
I guess it makes sense.
A crack of thunder snaps through the sky, loud enough that my little slayer bolts upright with a gasp. She’d fallen asleep a while ago, and I’ve been driving through this storm that’s been all threat and no rain—until now. Lightning flashes, and the downpour finally starts.
She clears her throat, rubbing sleep from her eyes. It’s just past midnight and I’m sure she can’t see anything but shadows and the blur of lights on wet asphalt. Her arms fold around herself, and the goosebumps on her hands are impossible to miss.
I reach for the heater, flicking it on.
“Hey.”
…Hey? Gods, Kayn. Smooth.
She peeks over at me, breathing out a soft, sleepy sigh. “Hey.”
Rain patters against the windshield, filling the silence stretching between us. I have a thousand things I want to ask her—things I’ve been pacing circles around in my head since the springs—but I’m afraid of starting in the wrong place and watching her retreat even farther.
“How’d you sleep?”
The sound of her neck popping snaps my attention over just as she rolls her head around her shoulders. “Alright. How’re you doing? I told you I could drive. I know it’s been a while, but I’m capable.”
I smile. “I know. But I don’t need to sleep. What else would I do with my time?”
Her thoughtful hum is followed by a small, tired laugh. “Sightsee.”
“Not a bad idea.” I turn to look at her, and when our eyes meet, I wink. “There’s always something beautiful to see.”
She makes a soft, strangled noise. Like she’s trying to hide whatever sound almost escaped her. Cute.
“Right…” She clears her throat as the rain lets loose, pounding harder against the roof and windows. “Damn, this came out of nowhere.”
“Nah. It was building for a few miles.”
“Where exactly are we?” She twists around, scanning her window, mine, then the back.
“We should make it to Achien in about eight hours.”
“Sorry for sleeping so long,” she mutters, adjusting in her seat. I hear the click of her seatbelt undoing. When I glance over, she’s staring out the back window, eyebrows pinched tight.
Then suddenly, she screams, “OH MY GOD, STOP THE CAR!!”