Creed
Every inhale, like a dagger laced in death, punctures my soul.
It doesn’t leave behind a clean wound. The last thing it is, is merciful.
It twists on the way in, barbed and deliberate, like my own power knows exactly where to sink its teeth.
I’ve struggled through every conversation. Every gods-forsaken fucking moment since we left the Abandon.
I nodded when my brothers did. I answered when spoken to. I even added my own two cents when I got my voice working.
My feet carried me forward like I’m not hollow from the inside out.
The only reason I haven’t shattered is V. He hasn’t said a word about it. Hasn’t acknowledged what he’s doing.
He’s just…there.
His power wrapped around me in his starshoot and never left me. Even when he left us momentarily to go hide the new Binding with the other, it stayed. It lies over my skin like a careful hand over a bleeding wound. There’s enough pressure to keep me upright, but not enough to numb it.
I haven’t called him on it. Haven’t thanked him either.
If I do, it becomes real. And if it’s real, then I have to admit how fucked I am without it.
Because honestly…
At this point, I don’t know if I can survive him pulling back.
I fear it. Truly. Down to the depths of my soul. I fear the moment his restraint eases and everything I’ve been holding at bay comes crashing back in all at once.
I already know how it’ll feel. I tasted it.
Those unbearable, brief but endless seconds when every calling ripped through me at once was pure agony.
Other gods, maybe even my brothers, think a calling is only a sound.
A voice. A plea.
It starts that way. Then it becomes a tug.
A violent, desperate hook that sinks into my soul and yanks—hard—demanding to be answered. When I answer, the pain resolves. It hurts to watch life leave a set of eyes, yes, but answering the call completes the cycle.
When I don’t…
When I can’t…
The hook doesn’t disappear.
It rips free.
Each missed calling tore a piece of me loose, leaving raw absence in its wake. It’s ragged, burning, and screaming even after the voices are gone.
Multiply that by dozens. By a battlefield full of innocent souls who needed me and never felt my answer.
That’s what’s sitting inside my chest right now.
Grief. Guilt. Damage.
And I don’t have the luxury of stopping to bleed out and rage.
I want to be selfish, but I can’t be.
So I walk.
I breathe.
I let V hold me together.
My feet step along with the others as we walk through the tree line and stare at Thayla’s back door. I want nothing more in this fucking realm than to head in that direction rather than go to the house next door.
The longer we sit here and stare, the more my feet sink into the ground.
“Come on,” Kyzen says, lacing his fingers with Thayla’s as he pulls her along.
We clear the distance to Yemi’s back door faster than I’d like, and I grit my teeth, waiting for V to release his grip on me. His wings brush my arm for a millisecond as he ruffles himself out and gets more comfortable on Thayla’s shoulder.
“Are you coming in with us?” she asks him low.
“Yes.”
My fists uncoil and a subtle breath leaves my lips. One much louder falls from her as she raises her hand and knocks without any hesitation.
“You all have quite the timing,” Nero says as his gaze roams over us.
The quiver in his tone and the gloss in his eyes have mine narrowing. Not in suspicion, but sharp concern for what may have happened in the time we’ve been in the meadow.
He pushes the door open wider, stepping aside to give us room to pass, but Thayla slams to a stop two steps in.
I crowd in behind her until my chest brushes her back as the space closes around us.
Four heads snap in our direction, and two of them surprise me, but they don’t hold my attention. Not when it’s dragged, unrelenting, to the couch.
To Sevryn.
Tremors still tear through him. Not subtle. Not lessening.
His elbows brace against his bouncing knees, and his hands are clenched so tight his knuckles have gone bone-white. His head is bowed, shoulders caved inward, and tears slide unchecked down his cheeks, splattering against the hardwood floor.
Each drop is loud.
When his bloodshot eyes lift and collide with mine, devastation cleaves straight through my chest. The pain is crushing.
There’s no anger in his expression. None aimed at me, at least.
There’s just…defeat.
The hollow aftermath of losing people you care about.
A shared understanding passes between us in this silent, fragile second. No words are needed. None would survive the space between us anyway.
We wouldn’t lay waste to each other. We’d rile each other up. We’d concoct our own plan of revenge against the men who raised and failed us.
Still, I apologize with my eyes.
I didn’t mean to fail his people.
“Where the hell have you all been? Are you okay?” Yemi asks, breaking the stillness as she swallows Thayla in a hug.
My Binder closes her eyes and lets her chin rest on her friend’s shoulder.
“We’re okay.”
“Little troublling,” Derivius says as he steps up as soon as Yemi moves over.
“What are you doing here?” Thayla asks.
“I felt…” he trails off as his gaze roams over V. Thayla’s attention follows his, and she clears her throat.
“Derivius, this is my Vedarya, V.”
My brothers, Derivius, V, and I tilt our heads at her. Understanding why she’s introducing them hits me square in my chest. My brothers obviously put two and two together at the same time as they hang their heads a fraction.
“Derivius and I go way back, Thayla girl. We had our reunion…a short time ago.”
She scowls between the two of them.
“When would the two of you be around each other without me?”
Her gaze roams over each of us, but it’s Kyzen’s nervous rubbing at the back of his neck that gives it away.
“Oh…right. That night.” She stares down at her feet, then gives us a tight smile. “Well then, I suppose introductions aren’t in order.”
The two of them knowing each other was the least of my concerns that fucking night. Honestly, it’s not surprising now. In my mind, anyone who has any knowledge of the damn prophecy about us knows one another.
The Valories, the Messenger, V, Verlet, Seismet, Derivius, Doren…
My glare reaches the God of Discovery, and he gives me a sad smile.
“I’m going to start some tea. I believe everyone needs something warm to drink.”
Okay, well, he didn’t know V, so he probably doesn’t know a lot of shit.
He was just a pawn like we are.
“A lot happened in a short amount of time, and we haven’t been able to piece anything concrete together.” Derivius peers over his shoulder as Yemi makes her way back to the couch beside Sevryn.
Her hand rubs circles on his back, but that doesn’t break the distant glare that’s washed over his face.
I take Derivius’s comment as Sevryn hasn’t spoken.
“What’s happened?” Amick asks.
“Well, you’ll have to fill us in on that.
I felt Thayla’s power call to my own, and I tried to reach out but got no response.
Yemi relayed the message of the stronghold to Ellian, then he called for me.
We went to your home once Sevryn appeared, but you weren’t there, and something was restricting us from getting to the meadows. ”
None of us respond to Derivius.
“Thayla has asked me to tell all of you that she wishes to tell them the truth. All of it.”
“Why the hell should we do that?” I ask.
“Because she plans to tell Derivius to hand his Binding over. Her words, of course.”
I peer down at her, and my heart flutters the first beat of life as her lips twitch.
“We should all have a discussion,” Amick says, motioning his hand toward Yemi’s table.
My jaw locks as Sevryn rises from the couch, wincing as he stomps over there. Iric takes a step away from him but falls still as his gaze gets trapped in mine.
He rolls his shoulders, attempting to get his power under control, but I can’t be of help to him. This is a fresh wound that doesn’t need his assistance being brought to the surface.
It’s there for his power to feast on.
I know that isn’t what he wants to do, but between Sevryn and the five of us, he may have no choice.
He should embrace the free meal and not make it fucking awkward.
“Boys, Thayla, are you all okay?” Ellian asks.
He looks tired. I swear to the gods, only a few days of being High Chancellor and it seems like years have already been sucked out of him.
I don’t wish that for Amick. Matter of fact, I fucking refuse to let that happen.
“Fine,” I grunt, then clear the rasp from my throat. “What did you do about the stronghold?”
He shakes his head, closing his gaping mouth as he tears his attention from V.
Glad to know he hasn’t been hiding things from us.
“Gladian retrieved the fallen Obliraguards, scouted the area, and assigned four new Valtrues to take post. Everything was clear by the time he got there. He claimed it didn’t look as though a battle even took place.”
“It wasn’t a battle. It was a massacre.”
Sevryn’s whisper slices through the air like a sword, and everyone flinches as though they were struck. His Valtrue, Ellian, and Derivius sink into their seats, and their worried eyes bounce from him to us.
“Kyzen,” Amick orders the moment Doren finishes passing around mugs and setting a kettle in the middle of the table.
My brother’s shoulders droop, but he exhales nonetheless as Thayla laces her fingers through his under the table.
From the moment my knees hit the kitchen tile until Thayla’s fist landed against Yemi’s door, Kyzen repeats the events of the morning. No one so much as breathes too hard.
My fingers clench the delicate porcelain, and I force myself to loosen my grip before it shatters and I scald myself. I breathe and watch everyone’s reactions.
Sevryn stares down at the table as Yemi’s focus flicks between him and Thayla. She keeps her hand pressed against her mouth. Either to hold back bile or gasps.
Iric’s normal persona is firmly in place, but the way he twirls his thumbs contradicts how calm he is. Isn’t, actually.