Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“It’s what we do,” Circe says, not unkindly but so matter-of-factly that Zora blanches. “It’s a kindness to end it now. There’s no saving them, and they’ll only suffer worse. You’ve voted in favor of just such an extinction before.”
“Yes, I know but we’re gods,” Zora says, turning to appeal to Veda—she’s the one with the softest heart. “We can do whatever we like. We have the power to help them. If they can’t do it for themselves, then put them in another dimension so they can at least survive.”
“That knocks things out of balance,” Cato says. “Some worlds are meant to survive. Others are not.”
“There’s always give and take. One realm flourishes while another dies.”
Zora looks back at the window showing the pathetic dimension and points at it. “There are children. You can’t mean to kill them.”
“They’re going to die, anyway,” Veda says. “Probably in a very slow, painful manner.”
“I’ll purge the land with a firestorm,” Cato announces. “All in favor?”
“No, wait,” Zora says, stepping toward Cato but then halting. She looks to the women. “Please, don’t.”
“All in favor,” Cato says again.
Circe doesn’t hesitate. “Aye. A firestorm.”
Onyx nods. “Aye.”
Casting an apologetic look to Zora, Veda murmurs, “Aye.”
Everyone looks at the god of Life. Her chest heaves as she stares piteously at the barren, dying world.
“Aye,” she whispers, squeezing her eyes shut.
Cato throws a hand at the portal, and fire shoots from it into the alternate dimension. It rolls over the land in a massive wave, and people scream in terror and pain before they burn to ash.
Zora averts her gaze by turning her head, unwilling to witness the destruction.
And then… she’s gone.
Bending distance to somewhere that’s not here without a word to anyone.
“I gotta go,” I mutter to Carrick and envision Zora’s chalet.
I pull it to me, locking in on her living room, and step from the realm of the gods onto the hardwood floors of her home.
Zora stands facing the windows that overlook the snow-covered Alps, hands again clenched into tight fists, and she lets out a scream so piercing that for a moment, the entire chalet shakes before the glass bursts outward and away from her. Mattia and Uorsin bolt down the hallway toward the master bedroom, tails tucked, and snow-flecked wind surges through the chalet, whipping Zora’s hair around her face.
Long after the glass has tumbled down the mountain, Zora is still releasing her singularly aching scream of torment.
I move fast, coming up behind her and wrapping her in an embrace. One arm across her chest, the other over her belly, and I pull her into me.
I don’t tell her to stop screaming. I just hold her until she’s finished.
CHAPTER 6
Zora
The scream won’t end. It continues on one long note of agony as I envision all those people burning to death simply because their world wasn’t thriving to the gods’ satisfaction.
I’m vaguely aware of Maddox’s arms around me but am more in tune with the fact he’s not trying to stop me. He’s giving me stability to purge, validation to keep going as long as I want.
I let the sound die, not because I’m tired but because it’s doing nothing but hurting my ears. I’m still filled with so much rage and helplessness that my entire body vibrates with power. Head bowed, I suck in a lungful of stinging mountain air as snow and ice pelt my face. My hands clench, release, clench, release. The need to unleash more destruction builds inside me, and electricity snaps from my fingertips. I want to blow apart this chalet and send us cascading down the mountain in a pile of debris, which would be far less painful than what those poor souls just experienced.
Maddox gives me a gentle squeeze, puts his mouth by my ear, and murmurs, “You need to calm down for Uorsin and Mattia. They’re frightened.”
Oh God.
Or is it gods?
Immediately, I relax in Maddox’s hold, my head falling back to his chest. “The dogs…”
“They’re fine,” he says in that deep, rumbling voice that instantly settles me. “Took off running for your bedroom. If you send this chalet down the mountain, you and I will be fine, but they won’t.”
I shudder at the thought. “I wouldn’t hurt them.”
“Of course you wouldn’t,” he croons.
Normally, I’d jerk away from such intimacy—not the embrace, but the comfort I take from his words. It’s just… I don’t have the strength to let go.
Melting back into Maddox, I close my eyes and can still see the fire rolling over those unsuspecting people.
The children.
“They didn’t have to do that. Those people could’ve been helped.”
“I know. But that’s not how the gods work.”
“But it’s how I work. At least I think it’s how I work. I don’t even know who or what I am, but I would have helped those people. That was my inclination.”
“Because you’re more human than god. You may have the same powers, but you are not like them, Zora. And I don’t think you ever will be.”