Page 80 of These Godly Lies
The First howls in rage, slashing at the shapeshifter’s face and missing when Khiran blinks away and reappears at the water’s edge beside Kaia. “You.” The First spits the word as if it is something foul. Something poisonous.
Marcia’s blade glints, aiming for the stretch of spine between his shoulder blades, but he turns, catching her wrist before she can meet her mark. He doesn’t settle for snapping the bones, not this time. His other hand raises to her throat, his long fingers curling around the back of her neck, and crushes her spine.
She goes limp. Lifeless. The knife in her hand drops to their feet half a second before her body joins it amongst the roots. For a moment, The First stares down at her crumpled form, something that almost looks like regret flashing over his face, before he turns back to Khiran.
“This isyourfault,” he fumes, walking toward them. “I could have ended you—Ishouldhave—and this is how you repay my mercy?!” A crack in the flaming canopy of them, a thick branch crashing to the ground and erupting in a storm of embers. “Do you want to know a secret, boy? Why I bound you with the promise not to meddle in the lives of mortals? Why the terms were loose enough for you to walk among them, but never save them?” His lip curls into a vindictive smile that looks so much like the one Marcia wore, it’s staggering. “It’s because I knew you wouldfail. You and Eira were always so keen on helping those who are beneath our notice, fools that you are. I knew you would get too close, too attached, and every time you broke your vow would mean I would have the pleasure ofbreakingyou.”
Kaia’s eyes flash, her voice a hiss. “How dare you say her name?!”
Beside her, Khiran’s face is dark with contempt, but Anna is increasingly aware of the rising heat making her sweat—the smoke tainting her lungs. Silas and Cassius are still lying amongst the roots, prone to the flames. The blonde is crawling towards his lover, who isdangerously close to the fire, but the shadow’s weight pins him down.
The First laughs, cruel and mocking. “Had I known what ruin her choices would bring, I would have killed her before she brought this bastard into our midsts.”
Anna ignores the clenching of her heart, muscles straining as she pulls Silas away from the flames. His body is taut with pain, making it harder for him to drag, but she’s not willing to give up on him.
Hands.
The ones she knows—the ones she loves—wrapping around her waist and winding beneath Silas’ arms. Magic pulling at her stomach, blurring her vision, and they’re at the forest’s edge. Far from the flames and far enough from The First’s reach. Khiran blinks away, gone for mere seconds before returning with Cassius.
“I loved her,” Kaia says, and the words are enough to draw Anna’s gaze. The calm Kaia exudes is deceptive. There’s danger lurking beneath the words; rows of teeth gnashing beneath still waters, waiting for the moment they can sink into flesh. A wall of water swells behind her, towering like a giant and trickling beneath The First’s feet. It rises up to his ankles, his calves, wicking up his pale robes. Then it freezes, anchoring him in place.
“I loved her, and now she’s gone. Extinguished by the same flames devouring your beloved throne.” A shadow moves in the mountain of water behind her. “She burned, and for that, you willdrown.”
Tentacles break through the surface, coiling around The First’s wrists like ropes. He growls, fighting the creature’s pull into the unnatural tide. “You cannot kill me,” The First spits, but there is an edge of desperation to his voice. His shadow spills from Cassius and Silas’ veins, reforming and racing towards the woman in the water. “I am agod.”
“Even gods can drown,” Kaia promises. “I will drag you down so deep, you will beg for death to take you.”
There is too much distance for the shadow to cross, it only makes it halfway before the water crashes over Kaia and The First’s heads; thetide pulling away from the shore as quickly as it met it. Anna watches as the shadow seizes, shivers and shrinks. By the time the tide recedes, only Kaia remains. Anna knows, without a doubt, that she has fulfilled her promise. That her currents have swept the self proclaimed god into the rivers and out to the deepest, darkest parts the ocean has to offer.
A crack, louder than a gunshot. A scream sticks in Anna’s throat as she ducks, hands flying to protect her head on instinct. When she looks up, the main trunk is split—yawning open like a hungry mouth.
A screech rings in Anna’s ears, high pitched and urgent. It drowns out everything and everyone else.
Distantly, she registers Khiran is yelling her name, but there’s something she has to do first. She can feel the demand squeezing her heart, its hold so tight it’s almost suffocating. There’s something in the trunk. Something she has to get.
She pushes forward, the heat almost unbearable. The pain of it feels worse than she remembers. Worse than when it licked up her dress and left her in nothing but ashes. She bites back the urge to scream, gritting her teeth as tears track over her face. They evaporate before they have the chance to fall.
Her hand reaches, blindly, into the cracked wood and grasps something hard. It burns in her palm, but it’s a different kind of heat. One of magic. Of success.
Anna tears herself away, tripping over the roots in her haste to get away. She can’t see. The smoke is burning her eyes, making the world blur. She closes them against the pain, eyelashes wet. Arms wrap around her, guiding her. Khiran. It has to be. No one else has ever held her so close.
But the arms feel different.
They don’t sit as high up on her shoulders, don’t engulf her in the ways her heart intimately remembers. When he’s guided her far enough from the fire, she falls to her knees, eyes still screwed shut as she coughs so violently that her entire chest aches with it. For all that she gasps, she can’t seem to find the breath her lungs are starving for. Khiran’s hand rests on her back, a comforting weight.
Someone hands her a flask. Shakily, her hands close around it,feeling the stitched leather pressing into her fingertips. “Drink,” he says, voice deep and familiar. Silas.
Anna is relieved to find it’s water.
She takes a long drink, blinks her eyes open. They still ache, but the tears have lessened enough for her to make out Silas’ face. He’s kneeling in front of her, soot streaking his cheek, his clothes. “You had us worried, my friend. What possessed you to run into the flames?”
Her right hand still grips the treasure like a lifeline. Anna looks down, trying to uncurl her fingers with a wince. She sucks in a breath, reveling at the jolt of pain. The back of her hand, her fingers, are burnt. The skin blistered and raw. She can’t bring herself past the point of pain to open it. Someone shouts for water, but she’s too engrossed in the sight of the burns across her knuckles to pay attention.
Herhealingisgone.
Mortal. She’s mortal again.
She turns, searching for Khiran’s gaze. For his comfort. But when she looks, it is the face of a stranger that stares back at her. His eyes are too dark, his hair a dark blonde that is a dozen shades too light. He’s thin and sallow, like a wisp. All sharp lines and swollen joints. He looks nothing like the man she loves. Nothing like the face that stars in all her favorite memories.
