Page 258 of The Gods Order

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

I bounce my shoulders, shaking off the gross feeling and preparing myself. The guys give me room and my eyes drift shut.

I call all my power forward. Each spot ignites. My mind, tongue, throat, hands, upper and lower stomach, spine. I sit in the familiar fullness.

Then I release them.

Unlike any other time, the instant my powers touch the Binding, they recoil.

The corruption inside doesn’t fight or twist away. It reaches back.

A thousand whispers press against my mind. Not real words, but feelings. Rage. Grief. Hunger. Every ugly, broken piece forced into this creation.

And beneath it all…

Power.

The kind that makes every part of me ache to hold on.

My fingers tighten around the Binding.

For one impossible heartbeat, I wonder what would happen if I didn’t cleanse it. If I let it flow into me instead. If I kept it.

The thought is gone almost as quickly as it comes, but the fact it existed makes my stomach turn.

What the hell is wrong with me?

The corruption surges, almost like it understands the rejection.

“No,” I whisper. “No.”

I shove every piece of myself forward, not holding anything back.

“By the Valories we do serve. Cleanse the taint this creation preserves. I, Thayla Godrun, command it.”

All seven powers puncture the Binding.

The white light doesn’t immediately corral or force the tainted power out. It sinks.

The corruption resists, dragging against my power like it has roots buried deep. My arms shake. My teeth grind as pressure builds, stretching every inch of me.

This isn’t like the others.

The others were just a touch dirty.

This one is infected.

Come on, powers. Push. Do what you do.

A grunt rips from my throat when they finally puncture the pure blackness. A whirlwind of white crashes against the darkness, forcing it inward.

The corrupt essence doesn’t leave willingly.

The Binding trembles as the blackness tears free.

A stream of white-and-gray smoke rips from the globe, thicker and darker than anything I’ve cleansed. It twists violently, trying to pull itself back, trying to cling to the only home it’s known.

I lock my knees and tighten my grip.