There are three souls in this entire center who don’t deserve the fate all others in here will face today. Thayla, Yemi, and one more I haven’t identified yet, but will be able to once my eyes land on them.
Thayla’s sharp inhale has me peering down at her, but her gaze is focused forward. Her plump lips part, but her face twists in a mixture of awe and worry.
Kyzen.
He stands calmly in his self-made circle, manipulating time as his sword soars through the air in its effortless precision. Gods stupidly, maybe naively, come too close to him and mid-step, their bodies fall in slow motion. He has them in pieces before their feet even get near the ground again.
Shit. He’s lost to it.
“Kyzen.”
His head jerks up to her, but his gaze is distant. His head twitches with the effort it takes him to fight off what’s happening, and I pull Thayla back to me when she tries to take a step forward.
“Give him a minute.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
I flatten my lips as guilt that I’ve put him in this situation floods through me.
“He really doesn’t like confrontation. For many good reasons.”
Two more bodies hit the dirt, and he slowly wipes their blood off his swords on their pants.
The entire time, he stares at her.
He doesn’t blink as he sheaths his weapons behind his back and steps over the pile he left at his feet, but he doesn’t move any closer than that.
I release Thayla’s elbow and lay my hand on her back.
“He needs you.”
There’s no hesitation in her. She runs to him.
Her arms wrap around his neck while his hang limply. My fists ball at my sides as I watch the version of him I haven’t seen in a long time slowly drift back into the dark compartment he keeps it locked away in.
When he finally hugs her back, pulling her as close as he possibly can, I turn from them.
That’s how Kyzen and I differ the most when it comes to handling ourselves when we fall too far into our past selves. He needs a lifeline, something to appreciate and look forward to.
I need solitude and the ability to beat the rage out of myself.
However that may come about.
I spare Delun, the God of Judgment, a meager glance. He’s still attempting to fight off the hold my power has him in, but his fight is futile.
This ismyshitty home away from home.
My power thrives here.
Hence why I swore I’d never step foot in this arena again unless absolutely necessary.
Thayla will always be necessary.
Riven’s giggle rings around the arena as he chases down some squealing god. When he catches up to him, he shoves him to the ground and shouts, “You’re it.”
He spins on his heel and runs the opposite way for maybe four strides before turning around and realizing the god never got up to run after him.
I pivot from him and don’t worry about watching how he kills the god. The disappointment on his face at the man’s whimpering lets me know it isn’t going to be pretty.
