“This is why you didn’t want me to see her,” Alora hissed, fists clenching. “You stole her soul.”
Sighing, Rune rose to his feet. “I cannot steal souls, Alora. I can seduce, I can lure, I can lie. But I can only take what wasgiven. And Theia sold hers.” He moved closer. “By the time you had come to me, she had already sung my song.”
Alora shut her eyes, tears spilling down her cheeks.
And something twisted inside him.
He had damned thousands without pause. Corrupted kings, shepherds, youths who prayed too loudly to the wrong god. He had done it to spite Elyon. To prove his father’s precious mortals were no better than him. He had watched innocence burn and felt nothing but vindication.
Yet now, at the sight of her tears, a rare feeling crept beneath his ribs.
Shame.
He had not hesitated when Theia called. Had not considered what Alora would think. Had not weighed mercy against fury. His anger toward his father had come first. It always did.
And now he saw the consequences of that instinct.
“What did her soul buy?” Alora whispered.
“Her mother’s life.”
Alora’s eyes snapped open, her mouth parting.
“I placed her mother’s body under a preservation dome to maintain her until the curse can be broken.”
Her fists shook, the markings on her arms flashing. “What will happen to Theia’s soul?”
He hesitated. “It is damned. Upon her death, Theia’s soul will fall to the Netherworld...”
Alora’s expression broke. “No, not her. Undo it. Break your bargain!”
He hated to see the hurt in her eyes, but his hands were tied.
“I cannot. Nothing throughout the universe can break a contract with the dark, Alora. Nothing but my death.”
And he was immortal.
Alora covered her face and silently sobbed. He reached for her arm, but she hissed, lurching away.
“Stay away from me!”
The scream rang through his head, echoing the past.
Rune dropped his hand, looking away.
He’d corrupted thousands of souls in his reign. Most begged for it, their greed sweet as rot. But this one… this girl’s soul had been pure. Theia’s bargain hadn’t tasted of sin but desperation. And for the first time in an age, he regretted damning a soul.
Alora backed away. “Every time I think I’m wrong about you…”
She turned to go but Rune caught her wrist. He endured the pain of her light, unable to let her go while her anguish flooded the bond.
“I am the God of the Netherworld,” he murmured. “Do not expect light from one who rules the dark.”
Her breath shook with her anger, and the candlelight flickered. Her thoughts slipped through his, sharp, unguarded, full of ache.So volatile. He’d destroy everything merely to prove he can.
He almost smiled.
It was what the world demanded of him, what the darkness expected. The darkness bowed to no gentle king. If she could see what he saw, the thousand evil souls clawing at the edges of his realm, the endless chorus of screams of those who deserved punishment, perhaps she would understand. Or perhaps she would revile him more.
