A smile curls Ren’s perfect lips. “Would the Wolf God provide for his people?”
“As much as the Forest God provides for them.”
He wants it. More than anything. For them to rebuild Gyeosi together, build a home together, build a life together. To wake up with Ren in his arms and kiss her forehead and—and to tell her how beautiful she is. Because he hasn’t yet.
Basuin can’t lose her. He can’t.
There’s a grim, heavy feeling in the air. Like something isn’t quite right. He’s felt it before, the hair-pin grenade waiting in the pit of his stomach, on the cusp of exploding. It’s leaking out of him in streaks of red magic. If he closes his eyes, he’d feel the wintry blizzard of Valkesta upon his cheeks.
When he marched the five of them up the mountain, he felt just like this.
The way Ren shifts through the trees has changed and he knows she can feel it too. There’s something static on his skin. Buzzing and lightning and insect stings. Inside him, the wolf-man howls, but it isn’t a war cry. It’s a cry for help.
Ren stops, and out of instinct, Bass moves to stand in front of her. But she holds out an arm, blocking him.
“Wait,” she says. Then, she reaches out. Her hand meets something, palm glowing blue. There are indentations on the air in the shape of her fingers—an invisible wall. Beyond it, the forest looks as it always has. But under the shimmer of blue magic, there’s something else. He can’t see it, but he knows it’s there.
Ren turns her head, twilight eyes gone big. “This is Sa-cha’s domain,” she says, voice dropped to a lull. She takes a long breath. “This is where everything ends. Isn’t it?”
Kensy is on the other side of this wall. Basuin has never been good at guessing games. He is decisive and stubborn and he knows, without a doubt, that Kensy is just beyond this wall of magic, waiting for Basuin in Sa-cha’s domain. His bones, weary and war-worn, know it.
This is what Kensy always wanted.
With a breath, Bass takes Ren’s hand in his, their god marks pressed together. He’s terrified—can already smell the blood of her and it hasn’t yet spilled. He can’t protect her. He’s never been able to save anyone.
This really is his last chance.
“I’m with you,” he tells her, gazes locked and hands entwined. Forever. Until death. Until he is nothing because he is nothing without Ren. Everything he knows and everything he desires is so easily her now.
Ren gives a curt nod, inhaling hard. Then, she presses her hand further into the wall. It gives, welcoming her inside, and every limb that travels through the shield is illuminated with blue. Ren tugs him after her, and he moves through it in the same incandescent blue light as she did.
And on the other side, the day has dawned. A field of green grass and wildflowers stretches out before them, lush and plentiful. Birds chirp and sing from where they sit in the trees, wings fluttering among the leaves. The rush of water carries through the clearing. Off in the distance, a waterfall careens down a steep cliff of rocks and feeds a creek running through the clearing. In the middle, a fat, round statue sits decaying, bottom worn and stained by the constant stream of water.
And beside it, Kensy. Standing there, leaned against the idol with his cruel smile, blonde hair ruffled on a breeze. Waiting for Basuin.
He knew that Basuin would chase him all the way here. Kensy told the legion that he was dead. Kensy killed him. And still, here he stands, waiting for Basuin to show up.
“You’ve slowed down, old dog,” Kensy chastises. “The Black Wolf would have beaten me here.”
Basuin locks his jaw and curls his lips into a grim smile. “The Black Wolf would have killed you by now.”
The grin Kensy wears splits even wider. Like this is what he’s been waiting for since the day Basuin was assigned to Kensy’s fleet. Like this is what he’s planned since he promoted Bass to his old position—Captain of Ariche’s Fleet.
Calculating blue eyes stare across the field at him, then flick over to Ren with something sly in them. Bass’ fist tightens, heavy at his side. He won’t let Kensy anywhere near Ren. That’s a mistake he’s not willing to allow.
“You’ve become so bold, Captain.” Kensy kicks at the creek running over his boots. “So, this is what happens to dishonorable men when they are given the gift of godhood.”
Basuin blinks to keep his eyes from widening. He’s known—he knew from the moment that he saw Basuin with Ren.
Kensy notices his hesitance. He always does. “That’s right,” Kensy says. “I know who you’ve become, Wolf God.”
“Why are you here?” he fires back, hand itching toward his dagger. “What is it that you want?”
“Nothing so terrible,” Kensy answers. “I want what you have.” He leans his elbow on the statue to prop his chin up, eyes meandering between Basuin and Ren. “To be a god.”
If you kill a king, you take his kingdom. If you kill a god, you take its home.
Something thunders in his chest. The wolf-man growls inside of him and it reverberates through Basuin’s mouth. He swallows it back, the anger. The venom that courses through him. He was wrong again. Kensy doesn’t want to destroy the Winter River.
