Page 312 of The Gods Order

Every response is a fraction less precise.

He’s still standing, but he’s no longer untouchable. His attention remains locked on my brothers. On the powers he believes are the only ones capable of bringing him down. He doesn’t look at me.

He doesn’t see me step forward.

He doesn’t see the spear lowering in my hand.

That is his mistake. His arrogance.

The same mistake he has made our entire lives.

He never looked close enough to see what was right in front of him.

The spear leaves my hand.

A roar rips from his throat as it buries itself into his thigh, and his knees give out beneath him. His gaze snaps to me.

There’s no anger or hatred. Just sheer surprise. As if he cannot understand how I could possibly be the one who reached him.

I don’t give him time to figure it out. My fingers close around the hilt of Creed’s sword dangling in his grip. One of the ones he forged with his own hands. One of the ones he created for a son he wanted to turn into a weapon.

The irony almost makes me laugh.

He gave Creed the means to destroy.

He never imagined it would be used to destroy him.

Creed releases it and in the same breath, Riven’s Harmony wraps around our father, Kyzen’s power wraps around me, propelling me forward.

The blade slides through his chest straight into his heart.

For one impossible moment, we simply stare at each other. His eyes drop to the sword between us. Then back to me.

I twist and pull it free.

Black blood pours from the wound, and he blinks as he sinks against his heels.

“My…sons.”

“By blood. Nothing else,” I say.

Blackness seeps from his eyes and trails down his cheeks in a stream of tainted tears. Like a ripple in a puddle, his power pulses out of his body.

The last drop flees him, and he falls still. The sword slips from my fingers the moment his body crashes against the dirt.

I wait.

For the anger, satisfaction, emptiness that I was certain would come. I didn’t expect this level of relief to wash over me. I feel like I can breathe.

My brothers align themselves with me, standing shoulder to shoulder as we stare down. None of us speak, nor do we have to peer behind us to see who steps up. We make room so our Binder can stand in the middle of us.

Right where she belongs.

“Obliterate, Mysenta.”

She doesn’t hesitate to stretch her palm out.

The five of us watch quietly as the God of Obliteration floats away as nothing more than ash.