He grits his teeth and cuts his eyes at them.
“I may or may not have asked him not to devour the unredeemable souls.”
“Hypocritical as always, Judgment. You speak ill of him for not coming here and releasing souls, yet you were asking him not to so you could gain power from their pleading,” Phoelius says. He and Barir scowl at Delun in disbelief.
“Forgive me for finding a way to help myself.” He bows sarcastically with a mocking smirk on his lips. “Unlike the two of you, I don’t get to sit in a cushy little level and have my powers boosted. Barir, you frolic around in the mid-level and your powers just naturally grow as all those beings continue to defy and betray one another for absolutely anything.
“And, Phoelius, don’t act like a saint. You’ve got it easier than all of us. The upper-level falls at your feet because they know one day, you’ll see redemption in them. I, on the other hand, am well hated.”
“You asked to keep the lower-level,” Barir cuts in, voice sharpening. “If you don’t recall, I asked to move from the mid to the lower and you refused.”
A beat of silence follows that, thick and uncomfortable. Delun’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t deny it. I let that sit for amoment before folding my hands behind my back to keep from fidgeting.
“So let me get this straight. You chose the level that requires the harshest judgments for your own benefit, then you asked Creed not to do the very thing his role requires…and now you’re punishing him for honoring that request?”
Delun’s gaze flicks to mine, sharp and cold. “Careful, girl.”
“No,” I snap. “I don’t think I will be.”
The air shifts and all three gods stand a little straighter. Sevryn, Gladian, and Mara step closer to me.
“Phoelius, what is it exactly that you expect of him?” I ask.
He blinks, like he wasn’t expecting me to call him out so directly.
“His presence,” he answers after a moment. “Balance. Structure. Hellveilious isn’t meant to stagnate.”
“And it is? And you believe it’s Creed’s fault?”
Delun lets out a quiet scoff, but I ignore him. Barir rocks from side to side and Phoelius hesitates.
“Not entirely, it’d seem.”
My eyes roam over his strained posture. “But enough that you won’t sign this for him?”
His jaw tightens.
“It isn’t that simple, Ms. Godrun.”
“Nothing about this region and every piece of it is. It never is. So explain it to me.”
The bite in my tone catches him off guard. I try to rein it in, but it’s hard. They obviously know what this place does to him. Has done to him since he was seven years old, but that doesn’t seem to matter to them.
“When he’s here,” he says, “things move as they should. Souls don’t linger. Bodies don’t build up. I can only do so much for those who’ve earned redemption. I can move them to amore secluded, safer section of the upper level, but they’re still trapped here until he releases the hold on their souls.”
That I understand.
I also know how to fix it.
“And what of you, Treachery? What are your expectations of him?”
“I have no expectations of him anymore. He’s let me down and gone back on his word enough times I know nothing will change.”
“Change is happening, Barir. You all may not see it in here yet, but out there”—Gladian points his finger forward and I stare at the side of his face—“it’s already started. She and her Valtrue have already started something.”
“So the God of Death can better the Godsdawn but not his own home?” Barir asks.
I take a step forward. “This is not his home, and it never will be.”
