Page 200 of The Gods Order

“I won’t leave you. I swear to the Gods, I—”

Gods.

Another thought doesn’t cross my mind. My head tilts back as I look at the ceiling.

“Valthaneus!”

The shriek of his name rebounds off the walls and each time the echo returns to me, it’s like a punch to the chest.

“Valthaneus!”

I scream again.

A sob breaks free from me as V’s blood pools through my fingers. The hot stickiness seeps into my armor and bathes my body.

“Hold on, please. Hold on. Help is coming.”

“Please…” I pray. “Dad, please. I need you.”

A bright flash of light flares through the chamber and not a millisecond later, my father rushes forward. Then skids to a stop. His head shakes and his lips part as he stares at me, my hands, then back at my crumbling face.

He staggers a few steps forward, then drops to his knees. His fingers drift over V’s fluttering eyes.

“Varnie,” he mumbles.

“T-to the hot spring, my boy.”

A groan sounds and our heads whip toward Kirabaddon as his neck rolls around. Heat flashes over my skin and rage like I’ve never felt roars through my blood.

Before I can do anything, my father stretches his hand out.

A barrier blasts into Kira so hard, his body flies through the stone wall so deep we lose sight of him.

“We must go,” my father says, then glances around at everyone.

With no warning whatsoever, his power wraps around all of us.

My body hits hot water not a moment later.

“Someone get Seismet and Verlet,” I yell, lowering V into the water. “Hold on, V. They’re coming. They’ll tell me what to do.”

“Thayla girl,” he says, forcing his trembling wing to cup my cheek. “There’s nothing that can be done.”

“No, no. Don’t say that. There’s plenty that can be done. We just have to wait for them. You have to hold on.”

I sling my gaze up to my father. I find him kneeling at the edge of the hot spring with my men and our friends on their knees behind him.

“There’s plenty we can do, right? The Veilatara will know. You know. You’re a Beginning God. Tell me what to do.”

I beg.

His bottom lip trembles and the lone tear that slides down his cheek pulls a scream from my throat.

“Gods damn it. Vullie, give me a vial.”

“T-Thayla,” he stutters.

“Don’t Thayla me. Throw me a fucking vial.”