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We need to die and soon.
We all agree Archeron seems to be interfering, that things are progressing far faster than we had thought. Everything, including other gods, might very well be trying to drag me back. The base energy of the Underworld is screaming out to right the balance, screaming out for me. Evidently nobody has answers for why or how I managed to control the creature Archeron is said to have demonian over or why it slipped through without attacking like the others. It’s safe to say it was looking for me. Our realities are off balance. God’s and goddess’s powers rely on maintaining balance and indifference. Our goddesses, primarily Clotho, has interceded on our accounts one too many times, meaning are they losing control and we are all supremely fucked as Sleepy put it.
Oh, and my black hole of a soul is disrupting the twins’ souls as well. Kicking them off balance when we’re near each other. I should’ve seen it sooner.
I continue internally kicking myself for being so self-centered, bringing my cold coffee to my lips, nursing it as I stare blankly outside. Milo hasn’t been able to stop the rain for hours. He and Tate have been lingering close to each other since everyone left, desperate for solace that won’t come. Saving my life back then in that ugly hotel room offset a series of events that royally screwed everything up, assuming everything we know about energy balance is true. And by we I mean them. The power they nested inside me after Everett died grew far stronger than it was ever meant to. My death, the energy from that event, had to go somewhere. Instinctively, I consumed it.Usedit. I’ve been feeding off every offset event since. I’m a nuclear warhead primed for the total annihilation of both realities if we don’t tread very carefully. Meaning no sex for starters, which the twins are still sulking about.
I have to die alongside the men I love, and I can’t even fuck them anymore.
Granted, there’s no way of confirming any of this, but grandpa and Carlton are sure having consulted with other elder members of the order and all of those dammed journals. It’s not like I can just FaceTime Clotho and ask...
Right?
I mean if I she can push something to me in a moment of grief, if I power down and unlock abilities, I didn’t know I had, is that really such a crazy idea?
“Whatever you’re thinking, I don’t like it,” Tate mumbles against my back, my feet draped over Milo’s lap, “I second that.”
“Wouldn’t contact work both ways? If Clotho can reach out to me through visions and dreams. Why can’t I reach back to her?”
“No,” They respond in unison. I groan, trying to remove my leg from Milo’s lap before he grips it tightly. “We just drew out a fucking monster because we had sex, summoned hellfire by accident. You want to dispel energy for what? To maybe talk to a goddess that would likely offer no help, anyway?” The longer Milo speaks, the more tense his voice becomes.
Tate shifts closer, “You could die, kitten.”
I throw my arms up in exasperation, “I’m going to either way. We need to close the gap before people get hurt, before I hurt you.” My voice cracks on that last sentiment. I’ve made my peace with it all, but that doesn’t mean it’s not excruciating. That I don’t want to sob and thrash, curling into a little ball demanding answers. I need to understandwhy,why all of this is happening. If there’s any way I can get rid of this power, “I will die by your sides, helping you fulfill your purpose. All the pain and agony and years spent without you; I can stomach it all.” I ball my fists tightly, pretending to be half as brave and strong as they are. “I’ll take it. Being kept away from my fucking soulmates because of this cursed power. Power they planted in Everett. Power they let kill him. All of it I can cope with.” An ugly sob escapes from my mouth as every emotion I’ve felt since walking into Clavemore University assaults my chest. Making my heart throb in the most exquisite and excruciating way. Tate wraps his arms around me tightly as I look at Milo pleading with them. “I cannotcopeknowing I am hurting you. I will destroy your souls all because I’m too fucking weak to control this. You... you have to let me die. Stop searching for a loophole. For a solution, when the solution is clear, I have to die-”
The air leaves my lungs as Milo’s hand grips my throat tightly mere seconds after he lurches from his seat. Jerking me off the stool and slamming me onto the counter, pain radiates from my back as I stare at him in shock. Not because of his sudden aggression or the pain in my back. It’s the tears streaming down his sculpted face that twists like a knife in my gut. “Shut the fuck up or I will strangle you to death myself. You want to die so badly? So ready to fucking go, huh? How can you ask us to stop fighting for you? Selfish fucking brat!”
Tate rests his hands on either side of my face, looking every bit as tormented as Milo, “When we die, what then? What if we get to the Underworld and our souls can’t find yours? What if yours has been damaged too much? An eternity of darkness without you would be fucking hell, Kita.” More tears fall from my cheeks as Milo rests his head on my chest. Breathing heavily as our powers swirl around us, jaunting through the kitchen that was only just put back together from their last episode. Tate lowers his forehead to mine. “We’re sorry we did this to you. That we can’t stop it.” I lift my shaking hands as another wave of dizziness washes over me. Burying my fingers tightly in their hair as I force as much love through the bond as I can, a sad smile filling my face when it’s met by theirs tenfold, “Wherever you go, I will be. Always.” The truth in those words resonates through the bond, drawing both of their eyes to mine. I take a shuttering breath before sniffling, an intense tingle spreading throughout my body. My limbs go numb before springing back to life. An overwhelming sense of warmth surrounds us as their powers taper off. The damage to the newly messed kitchen already done. Judging by the way they tense, and the strange look filling their eyes, they felt it too. Something about this situation feel so familiar.
Tate leans in kissing me deeply. I whimper into him as Milo releases my throat, allowing much needed air back into my straining lungs as he peppers rough kisses along the nape of my neck trailing to my chest, the wetness from their tears meeting my skin. His teeth nip my already marked and tender flesh as he tugs up my top, his tongue wrapping around my taunt nipples.
We need to stop.
Tate moans softly, the sound sends heat flooding to my throbbing core. I arch my back up off the counter, still aching from the force of Milo’s slam only moments ago as Milo shoves forward. Forcing my legs apart as he nestles himself between, grinding his hardened length against my core as wetness sweeps into my underwear.
Knock knock knock!
Tate groans, a sound that only adds to my need for him as three more knocks fill the otherwise silent house. I open my eyes, panting through the honey thick need. “Fuck,” Milo swallows hard before pushing back off me, adjusting himself in his pants. Seconds later he’s helping me up from the table as Tate clears his throat, heading for the door. A small flutter of guilt flows off Milo as he turns me around, lifting my shirt to check for damage. “It doesn’t hurt that bad,” I assure him before he kisses the reddened skin gently. Adjusting my shirt to cover me again. Whoever is at the door has annoyance radiating off Tate in droves. Seconds later, a wide smile fills my face.
“You’re getting married!” Mara yells as she barrels past Tate, stopping short when she sees the kitchen. I blush, glancing around at the mess. Plates and cups shattered along the floor. Tables and chairs overturned. Tate walks in also, just now noticing the disarray for himself. He takes a deep breath and shaking in his head. Mara takes an apprehensive step forward, running her fingers over the charred wall beside her, casting a disapproving look at Milo. He scoffs, pointing at me, “Fire is her thing.”
Way to sell me out after that wonderful heart to heart we just had.
Things are far from okay. Pain resonates deeply in our bond even now, but something feels different. There’s a new acceptance there, although a reluctant one, brought on by the words I spoke. Hard to imagine a single sentence having such an impact. I thought it would make me feel better when they accepted our fate instead of fighting against something they care so deeply about, but it doesn’t. Not at all, actually. Mara finally speaks, shaking herself from her shock, “I will never get used to this.”
I half-heartedly chuckle, “That’s probably a good thing.”
“Look guys I support all of this cult shit-” She starts only to be cut off by Tate, “Not a cult. We’re an order of trained killers that serve at the will of gods.” I cringe, giving him a sympathetic look before turning back to Mara. Her perfectly sculpted brow arched up, making her expression even more pointed. “Hm, anyway as I was saying before Belladonna Brother number one interrupted me, I support you babe one hundred percent, but for the next three days I will tolerate zeroorder of trained killers that servewhatever in the hell bullshit.”
I barely stifle a laugh before it becomes too much to hold in, “I would love that.” I choke out, still laughing. She gives her warm smile, casting one more disapproving look at the twins as they ignore her, getting started cleaning up the mess around the kitchen. Mara grips my arm tightly, her touch making my chest ache, I don’t know if Sleepy has told her anything. If she knows, she isn’t letting it show. Nor would she. Of all the things that’s happened to me since I moved here, Mara is one of my favorites. I hug her arm to me tightly. A brief flutter of sadness fills her dark eyes. Lingering for half a second before she blinks it away.
She spins us to face the twins, “So it’s settled. After your wedding day we can all go back to obsessing over doomsday, but until then, Kita is mine.” Milo scowls, opening his mouth before I give him a warning look. He snaps his mouth shut so hard his teeth clack together, his jaw clenched. Both of them drop their current tasks coming over to kiss and caress me before Mara drags me off to gods know where. The idea of leaving them makes my stomach knot. We have no clue how much time is left, only that it isn’t a lot, but I need to say goodbye to them all.
Properly.
Even mom and dad. I’m only half surprised that thinking of saying goodbye to them doesn’t bring along the same empty ache in my chest. I love them both, but I suppose those connections never formed like they did with grandpa. That understanding was never there with mom especially, like a part of her was always distant. I suppose we both, on a subconscious level knew I was only half hers. Dad is just... dad. Little sense could be made of the way he felt at any given moment. It changed as quickly as the canvas he swiped away at. Still the moments we painted together, when he’d guide my hand over the correct sections. Teaching me different techniques and always loving whatever I made brings a sad smile to my face. No one has given me a clue into the depth of their understanding of what’s becoming of their only child. I hope they don’t know... that there’s some excuse planned to explain why I’m gone after all this. I hope dad keeps painting and mom keeps being mom. I hope grandpa tells them something to put their minds and hearts at ease. I know how hard dad fought against those old stories grandpa whispered to me at bedtime. He fought this school, everything. He shouldn’t feel any guilt about it. I was always going to end up here with them. My soul never belonged to me, but I pledged it to them anyway.
And I would do it all over again.
