When he could no longer take it, he thrust out his left hand at Safa as she threw herself at him yet again. A blast of white energy slammed into her chest, sending her sailing a couple of dozen feet into the air toward the riverbank. She landed hard and rolled another few feet until she was right at the water’s edge.
Caelan’s vision crinkled and went dark as he fell to his knees. Everything was swaying and losing focus.
No! No! No! He couldn’t pass out. Clenching his teeth, he scrabbled and clawed at the ground, shoving back to his feet. He glanced at Safa’s body. He thought he saw her move, but she was still lying on her chest. She wasn’t dead. Not yet.
He’d finish her after the godstone.
He had to get to the godstone.
The first step was unsteady, but he got his bearings a little more with each following step until he reached the brilliant golden glow of the Light Stone.
Lifting his shaking and bloody left hand, Caelan sighed. At last, they would finally get the truth.
He placed his hand against the cool, slick surface of the godstone, and it shattered.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Caelan Talos
Caelan stumbled back, landing hard on his ass, but he barely noticed. His eyes were locked on the cascade of golden shards falling to the ground. The godstone broke.
It was gone.
No.
How was this even possible?
It had to be a trick. An illusion. The gods had swept him away to the middle of the ocean, a dense forest, and marbled rooms when they met for the first time. None of it had been real. This couldn’t be real.
He jerked his gaze away from where the Light Stone had stood only to find that he was still in the cave. Safa still lay on the bank, surrounded by the corpses of the New Rosanthe soldiers sent to aid her.
On the other side of the river, a massive black dragon was fighting off the last of the alligators along with Rayne, Eno, and Adrian. Everything was exactly as it should be, except the godstone had shattered.
A rising glow of golden light drew his gaze and had him shielding his eyes. When the cave grew dim again, Caelan lowered his hand to find a tall man standing over him with long, black hair gathered together in a series of braids down his spine. His features were sharp and almost hawklike while piercing black eyes stared down at him.
The slow smile that stretched his thin lips was like watching a knife slice across his face, pulling open a fresh wound.
“I have been waiting so long for you,” the man announced in a low, deep voice.
“L-Lore?” Caelan stammered. It was the only person it could be. The God of Wisdom. He tore his eyes away and stared at the ground, anywhere else for proof that he was in an illusion, but everything was the same except for the sparkling bits of crystal that littered the ground. “Is this real?”
A hand grabbed his arm and jerked him to his feet. “This is real. I’m the God of Wisdom. I don’t deal in illusions.”
Caelan looked up at the smiling god, but there was no warmth in his expression. Not that he would have called Nyx particularly welcoming when they first met, but something was off. This all felt so very wrong.
What’s going on? The godstone can’t be broken, right? he demanded of the pantheon in his head.
Tick. Tock.
A shiver ran through Caelan and he stomped down on it. He had time. He had plenty of time stored up he could steal for his own use, and Safa was alive as well.
“Don’t worry about them. I bet they’ve had nothing useful to tell you since they sent you on this errand,” Lore murmured.
“They told me I needed to save Thia,” Caelan replied.
Lore released his arm and tossed his head back on a laugh. It was harsh and as sharp as his features, slicing at his ears and leaving him wincing.
“They said that you could tell me the truth of what happened. Why did the war start with Zyros? Why does she want to destroy everything and everyone?”