Move! Now! Or it’s going to land right the fuck on top of us.
“What the fuck are those?” Lazreth shouts.
It’s Heaven’s wrath. One of the signs—but the timing is all wrong.
“Kahill.”
Pollock.
He’s staring at me—at Lazreth, but through him, to me.
We may both die here unless I can get Lazreth to move. Whether or not a dying god can kill an immortal, I don’t know, but I damn sure don’t want to find out.
The heat hits. And fuck, it feels hotter than the sun. Within seconds, our skin begins to burn.
Lazreth, move! Get him out of here!
“There’s no time.”
If he dies—truly dies—I swear to fuck, you’ll never see the light of another day.
Lazreth has time for only one act, and I thank all that’s holy that he rolls and kicks with everything he’s got, sending Pollock’s body flying a great distance away.
It might not be far enough, but it’s a damn sight better than where we were.
Lazreth turns to face the star head-on, hands lifting as if he can stop it, and growls, “This is gonna hurt like a motherfucker, ain’t it?”
Hurt? It’s going to kill us, you fool.
Chapter Thirty-Three
World Disorder
Tíarnach
None of this is unfolding as foretold.
When the old gods begin to fall from the heavens, there is no mistaking it—the timeline has been drawn forward. Judgment has been summoned ahead of its appointed hour. God’s hand, which guides these events, is doing so in a way we were prepared for.
But I know His voice. I have walked in His presence. If this is happening now, then there is a reason for it, even if that reason remains beyond my sight.
I reach for the veil—not in doubt, not to question Him, but to seek clarity, direction, and to discover what may have been the catalyst that forced this acceleration.
The answers do not come.
Only a resounding command to have faith.
Faith does not remove the weight. It only teaches us how we might carry it.
Knowing this is no longer something my brothers or I should face alone, I turn my focus toward finding them.
Our separate tasks mean nothing if the world is being torn open beneath our feet, and if souls are being erased before their appointed time. We must reunite. Seal the hellgates. Restore balance long enough to finish our task.
Our ability to connect mind to mind has been cut off, leaving me with only one action. So I turn to Mardoch and press urgency into his shoulder. “Go. Find shelter.” I need to fly and move through space much more rapidly than he’s capable of. Within seconds, he’s racing off into the wilderness to destinations unknown.
I shrug free of my cloak and release my wings.
They tear from my back in a violent rush of displaced air. After dropping to one knee only long enough to anchor myself, I launch upward, burning a portion of my power to strengthen my ascent. The sky parts around me as I rise. Heat ripples along my spine, wings aching as they fully fight against the wind for purchase.
