“You’re going after Chaos?”
“Yes. I do not want her magic in the world at all. The Goddess of Earth is on my side as well in this, she’s the one helping me know where Chaos’ and Destruction’s feet fall. Since they’ve both forsaken the pantheon they’re out of reach from Light’s eyes and the scrying pools that give us eyes to all things on this world.”
“So you can help me find her? Destruction, that is?”
“I can.” Hunt nodded. “But, better than that, if you agree to help me, you will not need to chase her. You will not need to force or tame her. You will find your answer—if you were truly meant to be with each other—by creating a space where you both can live as you are. In that space, you can see if you come together not by force but naturally.”
Creation couldn’t help but imagine it: an existence together not by force or design, but by choice, on both of their parts. He imagined Destruction at his side willingly, her words filled with fondness instead of harsh accusation. He imagined himself looking into her eyes with no doubt or hesitancy about his feelings for her. The thought caused his heart to swell, a hope blossoming within him. For such a possibility to even exist, however, meant first—
“You’re asking me to kill Chaos.”
Laughter burst from Hunt. “You?No. Besides, there are rules in the pantheon—we cannot kill other divine. It’s why Oblivion was merely split, not killed. Why Light made you rather than just smiting one of the two. Killing a god—or demigod—is far more troublesome.”
Creation frowned. “Then, how do you intend to accomplish it?”
“I have found a mortal champion who will shoot Chaos down from where she stands.” Hunt folded her arms and leaned against one of the nearby trees.
Her eyes raked over him, assessing him. Was he measured up to task? He wasn’t sure if he even wanted to. This was a dangerous deviation to what he had been made to do . . . but there was something equally thrilling about it. Perhaps she was right; this could be his opportunity to see if what he felt for Destruction was real.
“What I need from you,” she continued, “is a weapon for my champion to wield.”
“And if I refuse?” A nervous voice from the corner still deeply loyal to his makers asked.
“Then I will find another way. Chaos is my target because of her volatility . . . but all that matters is one of them dies so that Oblivion cannot be reformed.”
The roots of the tree around Hunt’s feet shot up and curled with Creation’s magic in daggers. He vibrated with anger. But no matter the ferocity of his objection to the mere idea of harming Destruction, he was unable to harm Hunt.
It was true—the pantheon did not have many rules—but not allowing their magic to harm their fellow divinities was chief among them.
Hunt’s wolf snarled at his feet. The goddess merely continued to smile.
“Do not hurt her,” Creation growled through clenched teeth. Even if Destruction never turned her eyes favorably on him, even if he was broken down by Light for failing his task, he would rather accept the punishment than see harm or heartache come to Destruction.
“Then help me.” Hunt twisted, stepping away from Creation’s root-daggers. “Help me and we all get what we want. Earth and I see Chaos dead, no more of her magic mucking about. The pantheon gets their assurance that an Age of Oblivion will never rise again. And you . . . you get to see if your lover will care for you when the fate of the world doesn’t hang in the balance.”
She presented it like a choice, but as far as Creation could see, there was none. There was only one path that led to where he truly wanted to be.
“Very well. I will help create your weapon.”
“I had hoped you would say that.” Hunt looked skyward. “I’ll see to finding you a workshop away from prying eyes. It’ll be somewhere here, on earth, not on the pillar of the gods.”
Creation nodded.
“Stay here until then.” She took a step away and paused. “Actually, you may want to continue pursuing her, if for no other reason than to keep Light’s rage off you, should he decide to check in.”
“But—”
“She’s gone to the beaches of High Luana. You’ll find her at the furthest point from the high elf encampments.”
With that, Hunt was off, sprinting again until she was just a blur that disappeared over the horizon.
Creation leaned against a tree, catching his breath for a moment.What had he just agreed to?It should feel wrong, yet a sense of liberation emerged from his decision.
He started on his own trot across the globe, heading for the home of the elves. And more important, the current hiding place of the woman he dared hope he would fall in love with all on his own.
