“Thayla…”
“Don’t fucking Thayla me, Yemi. No.”
I’m going to give myself whiplash with how forcefully I continue to jerk my head.
This isn’t true. What she’s alluding to isn’t true.
I don’t have to think it through. I know what she’s getting at and no, I don’t accept that.
Creed is not the God of Death.
This is not how I’m finding this out.
The more ragged my breathing becomes, the more my mind runs through everything I know.
He can manipulate souls.
The way he took control of Gladian’s whip.
He has two swords that kill on contact.
The God of Obliteration called him his favorite son and said he was proud of the rumors coming from here. He comeshere.
People…avoid him.
I rub at my chest mindlessly to get my soul under control. Unlike the feeling of being trapped from a few moments ago, right now, it seems to be freaking out more over the feelings coursing through me.
I brace my hands on my knees as I suck in as much air as I can. My eyes drift shut, and I focus on the erratic beat of my heart in my ears.
Creed is the God of Death.
How couldn’t I have seen it?
Well, honestly, it isn’t like he puts his power on display. Sure, I figured it was something out there. I’ve really been assuming he had some powerful domain under the Goddess of Creation, given the fact he can somehow heal and do what he does to souls.
Really, the worst thoughts that I conjured up about him, after the whole Gladian and Abandon thing, was his role, per se, was to trap souls. I didn’t really know what that entailed or what godly domain that fell under, but in my mind, I pictured him like snatching someone’s soul out of them and not giving it back.
I release a watery, shaky breath, and I lay my fingers to my lips. He was carrying me to my bathroom when I had that thought. I had also told myself there was no domain that he could have that would scare me.
He was taking care of me when I couldn’t do it myself.
The smell of freshly baked cookies invades my senses and a manic laugh bubbles out of my chest.
The God of Death bakes for his brothers and me.
“Thayla.”
I hold my hand up to stop Yemi, then lower my voice.
“I’ve got to get the fuck out of here. I need to have a very serious conversation with one of my Valtrue members.”
“I’m going to assume by Yemi’s comment and your reaction, you do, in fact, know the God of Death?” Sevryn asks.
I release one more breath and force my wobbly knees to hold me up. “I do. I’m trying to be understanding and sensitive to your predicament. I can imagine you have your feelings about him and this.” I wave my hand around our glorious cell.
“But I’ll warn you once: watch what you say about him. There are three sides to every story, and until I hear his, I won’t listen to you talk shit about him.”
He holds my glare. “Well, didn’t your tone change pretty quickly.”
