Page 8 of The Gods Order

“Don’t,” I grit out. “Don’t you dare say my name with that tender tone.”

My chest heaves and my hands shake uncontrollably as I stare into the eyes that once matched mine so brilliantly. Amick described my irises as concentric rings that were composed of gold, green, blue, and brown. The colors didn’t bleed together. They coexisted.

His are still the same. Each color has a boundary laid between them, keeping them from mixing.

Mine no longer match.

My arm grows heavier by the second as we continue to stare at one another and black spots dance along the edge of my vision. The longer he searches my face, the more his crumbles.

I wish I could say that the way his eyes shatter makes me feel better, but it doesn’t. The hurt, disappointment, utter fucking confusion pounding through me intensifies as I bow my shaking head and sheath my daggers.

I take the realm’s deepest breath as I stare at my feet, willing the unforgiving spinning to stop.

I can’t…fuck this.

Not another word or laugh slips past my lips as I turn from him. My gaze doesn’t meet anyone else’s as I stomp across the space. Not my men’s, not Yemi’s or Lambrit’s. No one’s. My focus stays locked on the spot in the wall I need to reach to leave.

That’s all I want to do. Need to do.

I need to get the hell out of this room.

No one attempts to stop me, but every one of them follows me.

Their footsteps echo behind me as I march through the stark white room, then through that single door.

A wave of power breezes over my skin as I hit the previously locked hallway. The doors are still gone. It’s as empty and as dark as it was minutes ago when we left. I don’t wait around to see if anything changes.

My heart thunders in my ears and sweat breaks out across my skin as I practically sprint through the Sanctum to get outside.

If I could starshoot, I would. But I can’t.

Not because my powers are acting up, but—

The second my feet hit the grass in the Assembly, my stomach revolts. There’s no stopping everything swooshing around as it travels up and out of my mouth, burning my throat as it comes.

Multiple sets of hands grip me, holding me up and moving my hair from my face.

“We’ve got you, Thayla,” Kyzen whispers.

They caress me, mumble promises, and keep me standing as I throw my guts up all over this sacred spot.

This isn’t real. It’s impossible.

None of this…

I force the denial in my mind to shut the fuck up. Rejecting this truth won’t change it. Avoidance won’t fix it. There’s no point shutting down my shattering heart and scattered thoughts.

So I don’t. I embrace it.

For a moment.

A mournful laugh, maybe a sob, I don’t know, cuts through my dry heaving, and I latch onto the hands that are holding me. I soak up their strength and let it bleed through my soul.

“F-fuck. This is really happening,” I whisper.

My men don’t say anything, yet their souls speak loud and clear.

This is real.