Page 98 of Vengeance of the Gods

Bridger chuckled, shaking his head. “Fine, but know I’m only coming because I don’t think you should venture out by yourself and not because I think I actually stink.” He sniffed his shirt’s collar anyway.

On the way out, Vega grabbed their weapons from the bonded’s private arsenal. When Bridger hummed his approval for being reunited with his bonded blades, Vega imagined that vibration somewhere else… No! Scolding herself didn’t actually seem to work, but she did it anyway.

Vega knew they didn’t need to complicate things more than they already had, but it also didn’t mean she’d stopped thinking about what they’d done in the back of that Escalade on Earth.

Vega cleared her throat and sheathed her daggers at her thigh.

Bridger’s nimble fingers slid over the chip in his sword, his eyes wandering to the ring Vega hadn’t taken off since her last life.

“Why did you start wearing it again?” He finally asked the question he’d been wondering since he’d noticed it on Earth the first time.

Vega didn’t answer right away. She wasn’t sure why she felt an attachment to the ring again. Maybe it was as simple as the ring being one of the most gorgeous pieces of jewelry Vega had ever seen… or because throwing it in the Sea of Ros hadn’t made her stop loving him like she’d hoped it would.

They sank into the tree line unnoticed before Vega spoke. “It feels right.” There was no other way to describe it.

“Why do you still use a broken sword? You can rebond to something new.” Vega was genuinely curious to hear his answer. A ring made from the chip in a sword was one thing, but a chipped sword was against the army’s regulations.

Fortis-born warriors had special connections to weapons forged by a metallurgist in Ardor, bonding their powers and increasing their strength when using them.

Khort had a sword.

Arlet had a double edged blade known as a swallow.

And Vega had her dagger.

It was all thanks to their bond with Bridger.

“It’s chipped, not broken.” He defended the sword in his grasp, the blackness of the blade twinkling in the low evening sun like her ring did. “Getting rid of the sword would have felt like officially going back on the promise I made when I gave you the ring.”

We are so fucked.

When they reached the small village a few minutes later, they both naturally quieted to focus on their surroundings.

Vega and Bridger would be a nice duo to hand over to Marlena…

At the end of the row of small homes, there was a cottage with a broken window and a front door hanging on for dear life by a single hinge—but it at least had two working showers. The rest of the homes in the neighborhood had been checked through, ravaged for whatever could be used inside the caves.

Vega wiggled her boot under the crack in the door and yanked it open.

Bridger had to duck under a corner of the ceiling that had caved in since the last time Vega was here a few days ago.

“There’s no way this place still has running water,” Bridger commented, looking around at the remains.

“Amazing, I know. The water pressure sucks, and it’s painfully cold before you get used to it, but at least you get clean. No one’s willing to be out in the open at the river, so this is what everyone’s been using.” The showers wouldn’t hold up for much longer.

A patchwork couch sat against the back wall, making the place smell of damp mildew. The home sat in an alcove of trees off the main road, and despite the broken windows letting fresh air in, it got little to no breeze tucked in this tight.

“I’ve been so spoiled.” Bridger looked out of place. Even in his donated clothing, he looked like he belonged somewhere else. Like a handsome actor playing a part in a movie he only got because of his good looks.

“Yeah, some of them have been living like this for a really, really long time.” Vega followed his gaze to the children’s toys in the corner—dolls, a fake tea set, some dried-up coloring markers.

Bridger looked away, but Vega could feel his heartache like it was her own.

“One of the bathrooms is this way.” She changed the subject, directing him to the larger of the two. “It’s kinda dark in this one. I think there’s a...” She trailed off, checking under the sink for the old lamp with the rusted handle. It didn’t have a wick or bulb—it was meant to be used by fire and light-wielders, using their abilities to create their own light source.

Vega learned pretty early on she could pop a small spark of lightning inside, and a glow of blue electricity would bounce around in there for a while before it flickered out.

The blue light danced against the glass, casting a new shadow every second from its constant movement.