“Thayla!”
My attention snaps at Creed’s bellow and locks onto a growl that echoes far too close to me.
The Oblirian charging toward me releases a roaring screech as he raises his weapon. Our gazes lock as I give him a scream of my own.
For a fleeting second, he hesitates.
A dark, promising laugh—maybe a sob—slips through my lips.
There’s no humor in it.
The manic, chipper, high-pitched tone I’ve grown to adore in Riven’s chaotic giggle is not the mayhem that comes out of me.
My sound is frightening.
Deranged laced in devastation.
My sword meets his flesh, and I leer over his already stone-cold body. Every ounce of the heartbreak I’m experiencing rips from my throat. Spittle flies from my lips, and a blur obscures my vision as I bound through the battle unrestrained.
Unlike my first time here, I don’t count the corpses of the creatures that fall at my feet. No one racing around this obliterated land is innocent.
My shrills of outrage continue to tear from my chest, and they grow louder the more I swing my sword.
My murderous dance slows as I tilt my head and sneer at the Dark God, who just dropped to his knees and lowered his weapon. His bottom lip trembles with every step I take toward him. I glare at the black streaks running through the veins of his flesh.
Another two kneel at his sides, clutching their hands together in front of them. The pitiful, slow tears that fall down their cheeks make my rage heighten to unbelievable peaks.
A twinkle of fury flits across their sorrowful faces.
“Please.”
My eye twitches because of that raspy plea, and my breathing shallows. My hand shakes as I point my sword forward.
“Please? Did he cry and beg for mercy?”
They all tremble, and their sobs grow louder.
“Did he?”
My scream echoes as loud as the sound of my steel slicing through the air and then flesh.
How dare they cry?
My head swings toward another who attempts to get close to me. This one seems to be a perfect mix of Dark God and Oblirian. There’s still plenty of sense and understanding in his eyes, yet darkness slithers underneath his skin.
His facecrumblesas he stares at me.
I scowl back.
Then watch as his blood bleeds both red and black when I withdraw my sword from his heart.
No one in this wretched place has the right to cry.
Riven didn’t cry.
Thinking about the plea on his face as he held my gaze makes my head twitch. He’d never voice it, but he begged us to do something.
I saw his fear clear as day.
