Four
Hunt leftas soon as the arrow was complete.
With only a brief thank you, she was gone, leaving him almost dazed by her swift departure. He sunk into one of the chairs and tilted his head toward the ceiling. Crafting such a perfect and powerful weapon had truly drained him; it appeared his well of power onlyseemedinfinite.
The momentary exhaustion passed, however, and Creation was on his feet again. With Hunt off to deliver the arrow to her chosen champion, he had time to indulge his curiosity surrounding the other two doors of his godly quarters.
“Let’s see what the mortals think I need . . .” he mumbled, opening the door directly across from the workshop. It led to yet another staircase that wound up and around a different landing. The room was circular, but empty. He couldn’t help but wonder what the mortals ultimately intended to do with it.
Creation started back down the steps and tried the final door at the end of the first hall. This one was painted white and he didn’t know what he expected, but it certainly wasn’t the lavish bedroom that waited on the other side.
Tapestries hung on the walls and a fireplace in its center that Creation went to on instinct. With a dip of his wrist and twitch of his fingers, a fire flickered into existence, instantly replacing the blues and purples of late evening along his walls with orange and yellow. He looked at the way the firelight played on the walls, the four-poster bed, and the lush rugs underneath his feet. Creation walked over to the window, gazing below at the hedges that surrounded the temple—palace, more like, as it was truly fit for a king.
Or a Prince of Gods, he supposed.
A sudden thrumming across the ether of his magic cut his exploration short.
Creation sensed Destruction the moment she set foot within the kingdom of Aristonia. Turning, he began walking hastily, a pace that quickened to a near sprint as her presence grew. Though, as he approached the main temple doors, he made it a point to slow his stride, catch his breath and steady his mind.
He had no way of knowing why she was here, just like he had no way of truly knowing why she’d left at the beach. After the way it had felt to finally hold her in his arms, to finally connect with her on the level his magic had been designed to crave, she had run.
Perhaps she was only here to do him the kindness of a final goodbye.
Creation’s heart ached at the thought. But even as the possibility loomed just on the other side, he knew he was beyond denying himself her presence, even if it was the last time she were ever to allow it.
So, focusing on the silent pull of her magic, Creation opened the door and laid eyes on her for what felt like the first time in centuries.
“I was starting to think you’d keep me out here in the cold forever,” Destruction said without preamble. She stood with her back against the stone curve of the archway, arms crossed over her chest in a perfect imitation of indifference—easily offset by the slight tilt of a smirk at the corner of her lips. Whether it be the spike in his magic from their last interaction—theirkiss—or something more intangible, Creation couldn’t fathom, but the longer he was in her proximity, the less he was inclined to believe that this feeling coursing through him was anything less than real, true, and entirelyhis.
“It took a moment to convince myself you would truly come,” Creation admitted in return. The wordsyou have no reason towent unspoken, but Destruction’s smirk falling and her darting away said it was heard regardless. Despite himself, Creation felt guilty; she was given no choice in this connection forcing them together.
Yet, she was still here, without explanation, and it was easy to succumb to his own hopeful imaginings of the reason for her appearance.
So, before she could shatter that hope, Creation remembered what Hunt had said about the temples and spoke hastily. “Please, come in. You are always welcome here.”
“I don’t know about always,” was what her mouth said, but her feet said a different story as she strolled into his temple as if already owning the place.
Destruction gave a low whistle. “Barely a demigod for a few years in mortal time and they’ve already gone out of their way to see this repurposed for you.” Creation was too busy watching her every movement to ask—or even care—what it had been repurposed from. “Then again, I guess that’s what happens when you’re the favorite of a king.”
“I am certain your temples are twice the size.”
“I’m Destruction; mortals aren’t too fond of that.” She shook her head. “I don’t have temples. I have a small chalet I’ve made my own and that’s about it.”
He resisted the urge to ask where. “They will be fond of you when they see—”us together, Creation stopped himself short, hastily recovering “—how much good your powers can do.”
Destruction gave a small smile that was almost . . . sad? He wasn't used to seeing her vulnerability and wasn’t sure if she was used to showing it.
“They’ll always see me as part of Chaos, with the way she hunts for me. She’s done me no favors by making sure even the mortals know that I’m ‘hers.’”
Hunt. Chaos. The two words brought him back to the present. “Come this way,” Creation ushered her toward the stairs, asking as they walked. “Is that why you’ve come? Because Chaos is hunting you?”Or is it because you wished to see me?was the question he dared not ask.
Destruction merely hummed, offering no further response. Creation didn’t pry; he was too afraid of the answer.
He opened the white door at the end of the hall, inviting her in to the comfortable room he’d begun to think of as his own. Just like the temple doors before, she entered as if she owned the place. But as far as he was concerned, she did. There was no chamber or quarter he would ever bar her from entering.
Creation closed the door behind her, savoring one more blissful moment of pretending that this was real. That nothing else existed but the room they were in and nothing else mattered but their love . . . or him trying to earn her love. But reality weighed heavily and would for as long as Chaos walked the earth.
“Speaking of Chaos . . . Hunt has enlisted a champion to be her marksman against her,” he explained, walking over to the flames still burning in the fireplace. Holding out a hand he created a few logs of wood, depositing them at the base of the fire. “I’ve created an arrow fit to pierce the heart of a demigod. She’s bringing it to that champion now, so soon you will have your freedom.” He paused. “So if that was the knowledge you’ve come here to seek, you now have it . . .”
