“I was protecting Riven. Protectingyou.”
“From what? What the hell could the God of Death possibly need protecting from?”
“From our father!” Kyzen shouts. “If he had known Riven was changing your power, he would’ve killed him. You would’ve become what you fear. I was protecting you from yourself. You’re so fucking stubborn. You would’ve forbidden Riven from doing what he was doing so you could figure it out on your own. That’s why when Amick keeps shit to himself, you don’t pushhim because you do the same damn thing. You understand his reasoning better than any of us.”
He holds Creed’s glare as he twists his sword, pointing it at him as if he’s pointing his finger.
“That’s why you haven’t said anything about our souls changing. They’re less tainted. You’ve known that.”
My stomach drops and my heart shudders.
“And you haven’t said a word about splitting them. About tying them to Thayla.”
My head snaps toward Creed.
“You knew what the Vitos meant the second they opened their mouths. You’re waiting to see if our taint completely fades before splitting them and attaching them to her because you’re afraid of what it might do to her. Yet you haven’t talked about it to any of us. You know our connection to her is deeper, but you haven’t said the first thing.”
“Creed…” I say, staring at him.
“How do you know that?” Creed asks rather than answer me.
Kyzen lets out a quiet laugh as he lowers the sword toward the ground and tilts his head back to the ceiling.
“Because I am Time. You don’t get to hide from it. It holds everything together. Past, present, and future.”
Time is unavoidable.
You can’t keep secrets from it.
It will always tell.
No one moves at first as we settle into a silence that isn’t silent at all.
The room is too loud and too charged. Our breathing is uneven and sharp. If I can hear my own heartbeat, so can they. A constant drip echoes somewhere between us. Probably blood. Riven’s or mine. Maybe both.
Kyzen’s swords hang loose at his sides now, the tips barely grazing the floor.
No one reaches for him or moves toward him as his breathing slows, growing deeper with each inhale.
Creed wipes a hand across his nose, staring at the smear of red on his knuckles like he doesn’t understand how it got there. Like he doesn’t understand how any of this happened.
Riven spits a wad of blood on the ground before dragging a hand through his hair.
“You should’ve told me.”
His voice is rough. Not loud. Not angry. Neither is his gaze as it meets mine.
“Why?”
“Because I would’ve—” He huffs out something that almost sounds like a laugh, but there’s nothing behind it. “I would’ve stopped. Teasing you. Taunting you.”
“I didn’t want that.”
Confusion races across his face.
“Teasing about my lamps, yes. I would’ve liked that to stop, but nothing else. I didn’t want you to know the truth, then have that look you give me deepen.”
“What look?” he asks.
