I roar into the silence of space and crash my fists against my head, the power stuttering, unstable.
What if the Devourer’s fire within me goes dormant, and I lose this one chance to excise Romulus from me? I’m a fool to give up the opportunity when it’s finally within my grasp.
I can feel him dying. Just three more cuts and it’s done. Three more and I never have to share again.
I lift my arms again, shaking my head as my fury rises. I cannot be weak now. Everyone knows who I am. I’ve been told often enough throughout my entire life how I’m an untrustworthy asshole. How I’ll always fuck everything up. How destructive and selfish I am.
Is it really even my fault if I prove them all right in the end?
She’ll still want me. It’s me, after all. I’m a god, more powerful than ever, and she wanted me before when I was a far weaker version of myself. It is weakness that’s even made me stall this long.
My arms rise higher. The power builds. I can see the final three cuts so clearly.
“You’ve made my pointless existence worth living,”I’d told her, and I’d meant it. Every word.
But what’s the point of living if I’m alone? What’s the point of power if the only person whose opinion I care about looks at me like I’m a monster?
She never looked at me like that. Not once. Not even when I deserved it.
She looked at me and saw someone worth loving. Someone capable of more than just destruction.
Was she wrong?
The power flares. The final cuts are right there. One thought and they’re done.
But Romulus is dyingnow. I can feel him slipping away, his consciousness fragmenting from the cuts I’ve already made.
And suddenly, with brutal clarity, I understand.
This is the choice. Not between power and weakness. Between solitude and sharing.
Between being the selfish asshole everyone expects and being the man she believes I can be.
“I love you,”I’d told her before I left.
Did I mean it? Or was those just pretty words before a suicide mission?
My arms tremble. The power screams to be used.
Three more cuts.
Or—
I could undo what I’ve started. Use this power to heal instead of destroy. To connect instead of divide.
But that would mean sharing. Forever. It would mean trusting that there’s enough love for both of us. Trusting her when she says she wants us both.
It would mean giving up this one chance to be free.
The power pulses, eager, waiting.
Romulus’s consciousness flickers again, dimmer now.
Choose.
“Fuck!” I roar into the void, and the sound is anguish and fury and something that might be grief.
Because I know what I’m going to do.
