12. Thayla #2
“You sound like you actually care about him,” Meridamus says.
“Of course I care about him. He is hers, and she is my daughter.”
A pause follows his shout, and I hear him attempting to get his breathing under control. I’m a little surprised to hear him so…I don’t know. Worried, upset. Both.
“Knowing she has four romantic relationships and actually seeing them together are two different levels of acceptance, but that is fatherhood blinding me. They make her happy.”
That they do. I’m glad he didn’t take long to realize that.
They’re my realm.
I shake the emotions from my throat and clear it as I step around the corner completely. The two of them whirl around.
“Thayla,” they both say, taking a massive step forward before stopping themselves.
“Creed would like to speak to the two of you. Derivius is on his way,” I say.
They glance at one another, then nod at me. Their footsteps sound behind me and I release a breath heavy enough to flap my lips together. My tension bleeds out of me when Yemi and her Valtrue step out of her door as soon as I reach the front of the house.
“Are you okay?” she asks, racing over to me.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m not the one who got the shit beat out of me.”
“Someone hurt Creed?” Her eyes widen in disbelief.
“I’m not exactly sure. Just assuming.”
“No one technically touched him,” Sevryn says.
“I’m so over your technicallys and cryptic words.”
“Then grow some damn patience and wait to hear what he has to say.”
An oomph falls from his chest when Yemi lands a perfect elbow to his gut and I smirk.
“Thay.”
My head jerks forward at the sound of Lambrit’s voice. The worry on his and Rose’s faces slips away as they examine me.
“V called for the two of you?” I ask.
“Yeah, said we needed to come here straight away but wouldn’t tell me any more than that.”
“Well, we don’t really know more than that. Come on,” I say, ushering him toward my front door.
He, Rose, Yemi, and her whole Valtrue pile through and my lips tighten as Val and Meridamus slow their steps.
“We don’t have—”
I hold my hand up, silencing Val. “Creed asked that I get the two of you, so I did. This isn’t a blanket invitation to come over as you please, but he needs you here for whatever reason. So it’s fine. Come on.”
They spare me small, tense grins, then follow the direction of my outstretched arm. The murmurs floating through the house fall silent as we make our way in.
Regardless of the sudden awkwardness, my shoulders relax as my gaze falls on Creed standing in the center of the living room with his arms crossed over his chest.
He looks…almost back to normal.
“Well, looky at the two of you,” Derivius cheers. “Got a formal invitation into the club from my little troublling, huh?”
I roll my eyes at him.
Riven most certainly gets his instigation habits from him.
“Enough with the pointless chatter,” Amick declares, sending the house into a hush. “Creed, explain.”
I make my way to my sour Candyman.
Well, he’s sour to everyone but me.
He pulls me closer and lays his lips on my forehead as soon as I wrap my arms around his waist.
“Vihaan is stuck in Hellveilious.”
The silence that truly takes over the house is deafening. We could hear a feather of V’s hit the floor if he let one fall.
“Impossible,” Amick says, breaking the stillness first. “He died—”
“Twenty-eight years ago. I’m well aware, Amick,” Creed says.
No one dares interrupt him as he jumps headfirst into recounting everything that happened in the Crypt.
I didn’t even know Hell had a Crypt.
Guilt gnaws at me with every word. I hate that I didn’t notice something was wrong after Gladian shared the truth about Vihaan and his brothers, but in the others’ and my defense, Creed has always been terrifyingly good at hiding when something’s bothering him.
Especially when it involves his power.
The God of Death would rather bleed out quietly than admit something connected to Death itself might be beyond his control.
Hearing him openly describe his power reacting on instinct, dragging him toward the Crypt before he consciously understood why, sends unease crawling down my spine.
Kyzen shifts behind me as Creed continues to explain Vihaan’s strange disconnect with time and the way his thoughts drifted between topics.
There’s a knowingness in his gaze that twists my stomach.
It’s as if he understands exactly what decades of isolation and imprisonment can do to whatever mental capacity a soul has.
My chest tightens painfully as Creed describes what it felt like trying to free Vihaan. The confidence he had. The certainty. Then the failure.
My pulse pounds harder with every detail he gives us about how Obliteration’s binding is wrapped through Vihaan’s soul so deeply he couldn’t tear it free even a touch.
A fear I haven’t felt in a while settles through my blood. The realization that Creed—the God of Death—encountered something his power is supposed to naturally control, yet he couldn’t overcome it, scared him.
That scares me.
What if my soul can’t truly keep his from becoming attached to Hell as well?
Silence swallows the room once he finishes. No one rushes to speak, nor does anyone move. The heatless fire crackling in the fireplace suddenly sounds thunderous against the weight pressing down over all of us.
My gaze drifts toward the Beginning Gods and my stomach flips. They’re too calm. There’s not a hint of confusion or shock on their faces. There’s…resignation. Like they’re so over finding out about shit Obliteration has done.
“You three know how this is possible.”
Although I mumbled my words, they seem to echo through the room. Val’s jaw flexes. Beside him, Derivius looks toward the floor while Meridamus lets out a long, exhausted breath.
That’s answer enough.
Ice floods my veins.
“You knew he was still trapped there,” Creed growls, glaring at Derivius.
“No,” he denies immediately. “Absolutely not.”
“Then start fucking explaining.”
The sharpness in Creed’s voice cuts through the room.
Meridamus drags a hand down his face, then cuts in before Derivius can get a word out.
“Beginning Gods are tied to the balance of the realm itself. Our powers are foundational.”
I frown. We know this already.
“Obliteration’s bindings are anchored directly to his existence,” Derivius says, cutting Meridamus a glare. “He layers his bindings. With his literal Binding, his Veil, and his power.”
Creed’s expression hardens. “I don’t understand your fucking riddle. Just spit it out.”
“It isn’t a riddle,” Amick says. The calculating glimmer in his eye is not comforting at all. “Remember when we were leaving for the Abandon to save Riven, and Derivius bound Gladian and all the others to our plan using his power?”
“Yes,” we each grunt.
“He could’ve unbound them with a wave of his hand, severing the binding. Our father used all three things as a means to bind Vihaan. His power, Binding, and Veil. As Derivius said, he anchors them. Each anchor has to be severed.”
A cold knot forms in my stomach.
Derivius holds his palms up and shakes his head at Amick.
“Maybe, maybe not. Recover Kira’s Binding, destroy his Veil, and with another power boost for Creed, that may be enough.”
“May be.” I laugh humorlessly. “What the fuck?”
“If that does work, though, could I unbind myself from Hell as well?” Creed asks, and hope, the teasing fucking emotion, thrums through my chest.
My gaze bounces across Derivius, Meridamus, and Val.
His attention holds mine for a heavy moment.
“Yes. Possibly.”
My mind buzzes and I narrow my eyes on him. The sensation comes and goes just as fast and before I can question him even more, Riven startles me with a loud-ass clap of his hands.
“So our best solution has always been our original plan. Kill our father. Solves all our problems.”
Meridamus scoffs. “Were you not paying attention a moment ago when I said our powers are foundational? If Obliteration dies, eventually, the realm dies as well.”
“Key word: eventually,” Derivius says.
“Do not feed into their desire, Chaos. We all know what the inevitable outcome of one of our deaths means.”
“We assume the inevitable outcome. We’ve never actually been able to test it.”
“There doesn’t need to be a test for me to know the consequences.”
Derivius rolls his eyes at Meridamus like he’s being dramatic and I pinch the bridge of my nose.
There have to be more options.