Page 63 of Detonation
I’ve been willing to let my soul be sent into oblivion to find any way through that barrier and forfeit all my element of surprise, giving my life to provide her a moment to save herself and escape.
To tell her I love her one more time before the inevitable happens and I’m gone.
I can only thank Gaia that Anshar was interrupted their last night together before he could rape her again. Whatever is left of my soul wouldn’t have survived failing her like that again.
Will I be able to make a move when the time comes and its life or death for her?
What is this stopping me?Howis he stopping me?
I worry that as my connection fades, her voice won’t be able to pull me back anymore.
Has she figured out a way to kill this fucker?Knowing her, she’d refuse to kill him because of me.
I hope one of my brothers can see that it’s the only way to end this. Who will carry the burden of doing what needs to be done so Lana doesn’t have to? My soul would be eternally grateful.It would finally be at peace.
Can’t they see it won’t be goodbye? I’ll wait for them in the afterlife.
For now, I need her to ground me in this life so I can ensure she makes it until my brothers come for her—or until I can find a way to take Anshar out with me.
Keep talking to me, Lana. Don’t let me fade away, baby.
All I’ve seen today is Anshar making his way through the dark lands, flashes of a desolate landscape and once magnificent buildings in shambles around us. He’s traveling alone, which is unusual. Wouldn’t he want some form of protection in case he runs into any problems?
I’ve heard them discuss a light fae rebellion at council meetings so they’re not without enemies here.
I mentally shrug.Hopefully his arrogance gets us killed—I could only be so lucky.
My eyes focus in, seeing that he’s approaching what appears to have been a church at some point. As he walks up to a statue with both arms broken off, he moves the overgrowth from the head and chuckles at the sight of the long, curling horns.
“It has been a long time since we have been here, Anshar.”
Who the fuck said that?
Anshar takes his sweet time moving our head towards where the voice came from, a silhouette standing where we turn. “I’ll never understand why they gave you horns on the statue.”
Shadows spill like smoke from the entrance to the church and a dark cloak shrouds the person’s entire face and body. Piercing red eyes shine through and, if I were in control of this body, I’d probably be pissing my pants in fear.
Who is this?
My vision and hearing begin to fade as the stranger invites Anshar inside.
No, no, no. This is important—I can’t fade away now.
“She’s been detained in the Witch's realm.”
The inside of the church slowly appears, my connection holding taut but fraying. I notice a figure in the corner of the room, covered in tendrils of shadows seemingly pouring from them like spilled ink.
“She’s a buffoon. I told you at her ceremony that she wasn’t cut out for this.”
Out of the shadows, the glowing red eyes pierce our gaze, a deep, warning growl resonating from the being.
“She is my chosen for that realm. You would be wise to remember that I can extract my power from you and turn you into a shadow slave, serving me for eternity in Tartarus. Do not disrespect my decisions.”
A shiver goes through our body and our head drops, gaze on the floor in submission. “Yes, Erebus.”
Erebus … the god?
Shadow slave?
