Page 207 of The Gods Order

He tilts his muzzle to Creed, then back at me.

“He refused to let go of V’s soul.”

My stomach cramps like he just kicked me in it.

“He…is V’s soul in one of those Vedarya?”

“Creed should explain when he wakes,” Verlet says and I shove myself to my feet.

“No. You or the new Vedarya can explain now.”

“We will not see the new Vedarya for a few days,” he says.

“Why?” I ask.

“Because they are bonding,” Seismet says, rising to his feet. “That is the way of the Starwoven. They will spend their lives, from this day forward, as one.”

My bottom lip trembles and I press my hand against my roaring heart.

“As one,” I mumble. “So, if that is still our V, he’ll never be alone again?”

“Regardless if that is our V or not, or maybe even a variation of the weathering owl we love…” he says, shaking his head once and stomping his hoof. “The two of them will never be alone again. They will never go extinct as long as you walk this realm.”

A breathless laugh tumbles out of me.

Then it rolls right into a sob.

My legs give out beneath me faster than I can lock my knees.

Thayla

25

I don’t move. I haven’t moved.

I’m sitting on the couch where Kyzen placed me. He didn’t tell me what to do with myself, so I’ve just…sat here. It’s been three hours.

It feels wrong in a way I can’t explain.

Every time my gaze drifts to V’s nook above the fireplace, my hands shake. Pale smears of his blood still cover them.

I can’t bring myself to wash.

When I glance at Creed’s open bedroom door, my soul thrashes uncontrollably. He still hasn’t woken up, and the fears plaguing my mind keep whispering that he isn’t going to.

Riven and Derivius haven’t left his bedside since we got home. Amick and Kyzen take turns sitting in there and checking on me.

I can’t bring myself to walk in. I’ll crumble again.

So I sit here and…think.

No matter what thought comes, it gets swept away by the what-ifs. Something inside me keeps reaching for a moment that isn’t there. Like if I think hard enough, I’ll find the second where everything could’ve changed and undo it.

But there isn’t one. Even if there were, I can’t undo anything.

The kitchen is full of quiet movement.

Careful voices. Mugs clanking. Chairs shifting without scraping. It’s the kind of presence people offer when they don’t know what else to give you.