There isn’t one burning ball of fire up there.
I’m not sure if it’s this foggy haze that lingers in the air that’s blocking them or if the Valories have truly concealed themselves from here.
Regardless…their absence is unnerving.
This is the second night I’ve stared up at the Abandon’s lifeless sky, and I hope it’s the last I ever endure here.
The star-filled nights in the carriage replay in my mind. Repeatedly.
I should’ve cherished them more.
The closeness I felt to the guys for that short time is a sensation I’m craving uncontrollably right now.
Valories, what I wouldn’t give for the five of us to be at our house, cutting up in the living room, or everyone piled into my bathroom.
I’d die for Creed to say something I could smart off to. Hell, I’d go as far as throwing something at him, so he’d get riled up, maybe toss me over his shoulder.
I wish Amick would come sit beside me and lace his fingers through mine. I’d lean my head against his shoulder and let him babble on about whatever he wanted.
If I close my eyes and pretend, I can convince myself the backpack attached to me is Kyzen pressing his body against me.
Riven would…
Gods, Riven.
What am I supposed to do when we reach him?
Throw myself at him? Profess my obsession and tell him he’s mine? Ask him if he’s okay or if he wants to talk about it.
How do I even handle the after of this?
What if there is no after?
I rip myself out of my thoughts.
Depressing isn’t even the word to describe what the cold, damp, and dark outskirts of the Abandon make me feel. The looming sensation has silenced my voice while making the one in my mind deafening.
I swear even the wilting trees have daunting emotions wafting off their crumbling bark.
Where we’ve walked has been nothing but untouched forest, which has worked in our favor, but even the vegetation is…foreboding.
There’s power pulsing here, like in the Godsdawn, but its wrongness clings to you.
I mentioned this to Amick, ready for him to blame his father’s corrupt power for the icky feeling drifting through the air. He said it’s the Goddess of Seduction’s fault.
That surprised me for about a split second before it made complete sense.
The Plentiful Designation stems from her, and she should’ve been tending to the wildlife. If they’re manipulating the power spilling out of their knock-off Gods Veil, she should’ve been granting more individuals under her Domain the abilities needed to help places like this flourish.
Instead, she’s creating an army of sex-craved deviants.
His words, of course.
Other than the snippets of information he gives me when I ask, all of yesterday and today have been walked in tension-filled silence. He only speaks when spoken to. The unfocused gleam in his eyes screams he’s stuck in his own mind as well.
Creed barely utters a word. He’ll cast a glance over his shoulder at me, stroke my soul, or grip my elbow now and then, but that’s the extent of his interaction with anyone.
The one thing that gets his mouth moving is the plan. We talk about it only when we stop to rest. He then relays it to Gladian’s group, who follow behind us like shadows at a careful distance.
