Chapter 2 Thayla
Thayla
My soul rebels against my ribcage with so much force I swear it’s seconds away from cracking my bones.
The fury, devastation, and confusion pounding through me from the guys only add to my own. There’s also a tender caress hiding beneath all the agony. I zero in on it.
He’s stroking my soul back.
“No!”
My bloodcurdling bellow is muffled but strong enough that it vibrates Amick’s palm.
His hands fall still against my trembling body. As do Kyzen’s and Creed’s. My panic grips me in a vice that steals the air from my lungs.
We watch, horrified, as the Goddess of Seduction blows us a kiss.
With a demented, terrifying chuckle I’ll never forget, she drags Riven through the barrier to the Abandon.
Time stands still as we freeze—unable to process what just happened.
My stomach revolts in a way I’ve never experienced. There’s no slow, simmering buildup. It goes straight to a rolling boil that heats me from my toes to my scalp, and a whistle pierces my ears.
“No.”
My head jerks toward that whispered word, and my eyes lock on the glowing baby blue rings around Kyzen’s pupils.
Other than that, there’s no shred of the man I lo—know peering back at me.
“Let Chaos reign, little troublling.”
There’s no mischief to be found on Derivius’s face. Pure and utter rage stares back at me.
He gives me a nod.
It’s full of understanding, just like the one he gave Riven.
The pressure that was building from my fury explodes as a guttural scream with that permission.
There’s no thought. No hesitation.
My strides eat the distance between the barrier and me in a millisecond.
That battle line left behind by the god who abandoned us all welcomes me in. Its warmth surrounds me, pushes me forward, and encourages me on.
As it releases me, a weight forms in my hand, and I glare down at the sharp, shining steel of one of Creed’s swords.
It captures every ounce of my attention until agonizing grunts and shouts infiltrate my single-track mind.
Oblirians and Dark Gods alike attack the stronghold without mercy. The Valtrues that guard it are surrounded, fighting for their lives as the small army closes in on them.
My name tears through the air behind me, but I ignore the call. It didn’t come from one of my men, and they’re the only beings in this entire realm that could stop me now.
No Beginning God, creator, or Messenger could tell me to turn back.
He needs me. And I will fucking find him.
The power pulsing in my veins and fluttering in my stomach begs for release.
I recognize it, allow it, and welcome it.
My vision tunnels as I—we…
Creed, Amick, and Kyzen appear on my sides, power from Godsden and the Abandon blazing across their skin. They shake as we fall still and take a split second to catch our breaths.
Their glares are unwavering.
Determined.
“End them all.”
Kyzen’s cold command has me twirling the handle of my sword in my grip. Everything within me numbs as we charge into the battle already unfolding.
Together.
The God of Obliteration isn’t only a cruel bastard, but a liar.
We should’ve known better than to believe he’d come to our side in good faith.
This attack, whether it began when he was on the other side with us or the second he passed back over, was planned from the beginning. That’s clear from the blood coloring the ground and the struggle the stronghold guards are facing. Either way, it doesn’t matter to me.
What matters is that he broke his word. He and that bitch of Seduction played us.
Did we tamper with the Binding? Yes. More specifically, I did.
V and the Veilatara swore their power blocked that, and no one could tell, though.
Who do I believe? My revered connections or two evil, vile-ass, selfish Beginning Gods.
There isn’t a choice. It’s obvious.
There’s no truth or goodness to be found in the God of Obliteration or the Goddess of Seduction.
My men knew that.
That’s why Creed made me wear armor. Why they put me in the position behind them. Why Derivius stayed close to my side.
They all knew he’d pull some shit like this.
They all assumed he’d be targeting me, though. He did until that bitch opened her mouth.
Now my little psycho is gone.
He’s gone.
No one stopped them.
We didn’t save him.
What kind of hell is he, she—they—what are they going to put him through until we can reach him?
I jerk my head to clear my thoughts, but it’s useless.
My chest cracks open like a sinkhole, ready to swallow me whole as the worst-case scenarios he could face cross my mind.
Rage, regret, and…unshakeable, anticipatory grief trample through my body like a herd of oxid. My power twists and turns those emotions, soaking them up and morphing them into something indescribable.
My knees threaten to buckle as my arms tremble and the grip on my sword loosens.
“Thayla!”
My attention snaps at Creed’s bellow and locks onto a growl that echoes far too close to me.
The Oblirian charging toward me releases a roaring screech as he raises his weapon. Our gazes lock as I give him a scream of my own.
For a fleeting second, he hesitates.
A dark, promising laugh—maybe a sob—slips through my lips.
There’s no humor in it.
The manic, chipper, high-pitched tone I’ve grown to adore in Riven’s chaotic giggle is not the mayhem that comes out of me.
My sound is frightening.
Deranged laced in devastation.
My sword meets his flesh, and I leer over his already stone-cold body. Every ounce of the heartbreak I’m experiencing rips from my throat. Spittle flies from my lips, and a blur obscures my vision as I bound through the battle unrestrained.
Unlike my first time here, I don’t count the corpses of the creatures that fall at my feet. No one racing around this obliterated land is innocent.
My shrills of outrage continue to tear from my chest, and they grow louder the more I swing my sword.
My murderous dance slows as I tilt my head and sneer at the Dark God, who just dropped to his knees and lowered his weapon. His bottom lip trembles with every step I take toward him. I glare at the black streaks running through the veins of his flesh.
Another two kneel at his sides, clutching their hands together in front of them. The pitiful, slow tears that fall down their cheeks make my rage heighten to unbelievable peaks.
A twinkle of fury flits across their sorrowful faces.
“Please.”
My eye twitches because of that raspy plea, and my breathing shallows. My hand shakes as I point my sword forward.
“Please? Did he cry and beg for mercy?”
They all tremble, and their sobs grow louder.
“Did he?”
My scream echoes as loud as the sound of my steel slicing through the air and then flesh.
How dare they cry?
My head swings toward another who attempts to get close to me. This one seems to be a perfect mix of Dark God and Oblirian. There’s still plenty of sense and understanding in his eyes, yet darkness slithers underneath his skin.
His face crumbles as he stares at me.
I scowl back.
Then watch as his blood bleeds both red and black when I withdraw my sword from his heart.
No one in this wretched place has the right to cry.
Riven didn’t cry.
Thinking about the plea on his face as he held my gaze makes my head twitch. He’d never voice it, but he begged us to do something.
I saw his fear clear as day.
It’s still ripping my chest apart.
I thrash my head from side to side as I try to grip reality, but it continues to flee me. My chest heaves, and my grunt transforms into a throaty shriek that erupts from my mouth as I bash my sword into another enemy.
My anguish grows louder, more desperate each time I swing the steel of death down on his already lifeless body.
“So, not only can you bring my sons to their knees, but your influence stretches into my army as well. Fascinating. You are truly remarkable, Thayla Godrun.”
I whip toward that voice that carries over all the mayhem.
There’s no controlling my breathing as I stare at the pleased smirk spread across the God of Obliteration’s lips.
My entire body vibrates with the desire to kill him where he stands.
“Give Riven back. Now.”
He tsks and laces his hands behind his back. The small step he takes toward me isn’t enough to make me step back, but I ready my body for whatever he may do.
“We both know I won’t be doing that, but you may join me. Us. Come with me, and I’ll give you all the access to my son that you wish.”
My eyes bounce from his outstretched hand to his victorious features. The fact that he believes he’s convinced me already has me seeing red.
“I won’t be doing that. Myself and…your sons will destroy you and this wasteland you’ve created.”
His eyes narrow, and his power swells.
As does mine.
“Wrong choice.”
A war cry rings from my lips as my name rips from three throats behind me, but I’m already charging. My feet are swallowing the small distance between us.
His black whip of power lashes from his outstretched hand, and I swing my sword.
Both collide with an unseen force that vibrates through my arm.
The air ripples like waves between us, sending all the bodies within a twenty-foot radius of us scattering.
The mere-foot gap between us isn’t clear. It’s disorienting, blurry for a moment until the ripple-effect calms, then power pulses between us.
Kirabaddon’s eyebrows draw down low as he raises his palm, and my shoulders tense, waiting for his reaction.
I didn’t expect his eyes to flare wide when the momentum of his hand is halted.
Curiosity gets the best of me. It races down my spine, encouraging me on, and I mimic his gesture.
Unlike him, my hand passes through this barrier. The desire to stretch my arm a little farther and wrap my fingers around his throat has heat flaring down my back.
“Val,” he murmurs, tilting his head toward the sky.
The ground beneath my feet trembles from his power. The longer he sits with his head craned back, the madder he gets.
It’d be easy to slit his throat right now.
That’s exactly what I should do.