Page 70 of Godbound
He stops so abruptly that my anger stumbles into silence. And in that pause, I realize what I’ve just said, what wound I’ve torn open.
“I didn’t mean to?—”
“That memory you saw,” he says quietly, “was when I took a shadow of her hand during our last moment together so I couldalways have her last touch with me.” His voice tightens. “I got lucky that the shadow carried her final words as well. It’s the single most precious thing I own. You—” He exhales sharply, cutting himself off before the next words come rough through his teeth. “You didn’t deserve to see it.”
The flickering light from a nearby streetlamp casts shadows over me, and I brace myself, wondering if he will say something else, return the cruelty in some way.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a step further away from me.
He’s leaving. Now? Panic claws up my throat, the memory of him walking away in the meadow still raw.
I pushed him to go then and I’ve done it again. Guilt sinks its teeth deep. “Please stay,” I say, the words cracking as they leave me. I just want to apologize, to make him understand how sorry I am.
But the black rip in the air is already forming. I can feel the pull of it, the hum that always comes before he vanishes. One breath, and he’ll be gone. And when he comes back, whatever fragile civil thing we’ve built between us will be gone too.
Because of me. Because of my temper. The thought makes my stomach twist.
I can’t let this happen. I won’t.
“I order you—stay.”
Kaelzar freezes, his body snapping back as if yanked by an invisible tether.
“Please, Kaelzar,” I whisper. “Please don’t leave like that.”
He sways, leaning against the stone wall of the bakery, his body trembling. I stare, confusion flooding me.
Have I hurt him somehow by issuing that order?
Kaelzar grunts, collapsing to his knees, his body folding in on itself. A guttural sound escapes him, inhuman, as his powerful form convulses under the dark material of his cloak.
“What’s happening to you?” I ask, running to his side.
“Leave… me,” he hisses through clenched teeth, his jaw locked as dark shadows pool at his feet. Is he creating another shadowy portal to walk through and escape?
“No,” I say quickly, stepping forward and grabbing the edge of his cloak before he can disappear. “Please, just… explain. Don’t walk away this time.”
The fabric slips through my fingers as he jerks back, the cloak shifting just enough to expose what’s beneath.
The words stick in my throat.
The chains wrapped around his body aren’t just binding him—they’re tightening, shrinking, burrowing into his flesh. The jagged links pull taut, cutting deeper, carving into him with a silent, merciless precision.
A sickening tear of flesh. A slow, wet sound.
Kaelzar doesn’t cry out. His jaw clenches, the muscles in his throat shifting as if swallowing the sound before it can escape. He refuses to show it, but his control is fraying.
Darkness keeps pooling at his feet, glistening like oil in the moonlight. At first, I think it’s just his shadows. But then I see it, deep crimson bleeding into the cracks.
Not shadows. Blood. The sight of it uncoils the last of my guilt into panic.
Without thinking, I reach for the chains, only to flinch back as sharp edges slice into my palms. “Gods…” I whisper, my voice trembling. “How can I help?”
The remnants of my Blood magic surge instinctively, sealing my wounds, but it does nothing for him. I watch his fingers lengthen, darkening into razor-edged shadows. The shadowy claws dig into the brick wall, not in an attempt to lash out, but to keep himself still.
His body vibrates with the effort, muscles locked, spine rigid. A quiet, pained breath shudders from his throat, but he won’t let it break.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he grinds out. His clawed hand twitches against the stone, as if resisting the urge to move. “Go.”
