It’s too late.
And this time, you don’t have the magical tether linking you to Ziros. You have no lifeline to support you.
A mortal like you won’t last long in a prison made for a demigod.
Thick darkness swallows you whole, dragging you under. There’s nothing but a deep heaviness drawing your life away.
You’ll be lucky to survive a few minutes.
55
Half of Eternity With the Hot Guy
You
Magic. You just need to do magic. Something, anything, that will help you escape. But even breathing takes too much energy.
You’re going to die here in this void.
Unless…
Unless you can use Ziros as an anchor to pull yourself back out! That’s it!
You close your eyes in the darkness, willing all your power into his name as you chant it over and over in your head, picturing his glinting, angry eyes as you envision yourself appearing in front of him.
At first, nothing happens.
So you try harder, impossibly harder, willing yourself there, trying to imagine the thread that once connected you, reeling yourself in with it.
And then—
There’s a strange popping sensation like the sound and feel of a rubber band snapping, then a heavy weight lands on top of you with a grunt.
A heavy, very warm, very muscular weight.
“Human!” Ziros growls, squeezing you so tightly, you can’t breathe. “You’re alive!”
“I…did it,” you mutter through the haze and considerable lack of air. “I escaped!”
“No, my wild, crazy human,” he says, a somber edge coloring his voice as he pushes himself off of you. “No…”
“No,what?” you whisper, barely able to lift your head.
Everything on this rooftop is so dark. And you can’t feel the breeze at all. So dark, so heavy. So very heavy…
“No, don’t you dare give into the void,” Ziros demands, cradling you in his arms, lifting you from the ground. “And no, you didn’t escape. You broughtmeto you.”
Your heart sinks.
No! No, that can’t be right. But when you blink your heavy eyes open, there’s no stars above you. No buildings. No fireball-wielding menace of a twin watching with a smirk.
Just Ziros and his handsome face.
“Ziros,” you whisper. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. Didn’t mean…you…here…”
“Shhh,” he says, cutting you off with a kiss, pressing his mouth urgently to yours. “No time for that. Don’t you dare be sorry. Justlive.”
Is it just your imagination, or does his kiss give you a tiny surge of energy?
