Page 48 of The Salvation

Drago draws in a deep breath behind me while Mayce swings his head to me. A vein throbs in Merikh’s brow as he responds, “When the gods originated, the first sacred place they formed was the Underworld, formed from their blood, a single heartstring, and a breath from their souls. But unbeknownst to them, Malachor stole rocks, soil, and water from the Underworld to form the Hollows, in the hopes of having his own private soul realm. Malachor’s greatest envy was that of Kronos since the God-eater was the most powerful who could devour souls.

“But as they were stolen, the elements did not give Malachor his own soul realm. At least not the way he wanted. It was a cursed region. It was for neither living, nor dead, nor undead. Only ghosts may pass into the Hollows. Or...” he trails off, his pupils dilating upon me, prompting a shiver to skate along my spine.

“Half-ghosts,” I whisper and lower my chin.

“Quintessa is not merely a half-ghost as she once was,” Mayce points out, and I flinch as he sweeps aside my hair, gesturing to the faded mark Kronos once left upon me when he stole half my soul.

“The soul marker is the most important,” Reaver points out, rising from the table while nodding to me. “She does not hold a full soul. She is still not wholly mortal, nor is she dead. That is all that matters to the energy of the Hollows.”

“It may have slipped your memory...” Merikh rises with him while saying through gritted teeth, “I did not merely cast the objects into the Hollows as if they were fucking trinkets. I entrusted them to the entity who rules the Hollows.”

“Ahh, yes,” Reaver waves a hand. “But she is often known for brokering favors, is she not? An offering is another option. And we know those who are pure-hearted find favor among the Hollows' ruler. I can think of none other who have a pure heart save for that of a mother longing to save her child.”

“And if the World Weaver does not, then Quintessa will be trapped there forever,” Merikh throws down the nail in the coffin, his voice like an icy blade. A blade with my name carved into the handle.

And everyone I love.

17

"I'll take her lovely blood this time..."

MERIKH

I’m a fucking fool.

Goddamn me for playing into Reaver’s ruse and not leaving Mayce to defend Quintessa. Any time my wrath stokes my blood, I have no choice but to sink it, drown it. With the goddamned seal from Kronos carved into his flesh, it forbids me from using my powers upon him. But it doesn’t mean I can’t make him bleed.

My bloodthirst is sharp and sick.

Quintessa must never know of the other horror blackening my vision. How my doom will happenaftershe collects the objects. It would only lead her to fear and doubt, and I won’t allow her or Aislynn to become a sacrifice on my fucking altar.

The fear and the doubt already grow ice in my damned blood. Because once Malachor rises in my stead, he will not need any of them alive. I have no choice. Once she collects the objects, and Reaver frees Aislynn of the blood-tie, my brothers will take them. Before Malachor can rise, Drago, Mayce, and Kyan will take Quintessa and Aislynn and run.

They won’t stop running until they are beyond Malachor’s reach—even if they need to flee into the Underworld itself and seek favor from the Unseen.

Gods, I need a fix soon, or I’ll start tearing into throats. As it is, I can’t stop fixating on Reaver’s jugular and fantasizing about unleashing my slow-tortuous powers.

“When would I have to go?” Quintessa asks softly. I flick my eyes to the side, but her eyes are solely for Aislynn, and she’s swallowing hard. Fuck. My spine hardens. She purses her lips, already playing out failure in her mind and picturing the consequences.

Soon, I’ll banish any fears or doubts she may have. I’ll fucking obliterate whatever perilous thoughts I know she’s dwelling on. All three of us will.

Reaver regards her with a smile, one I wish to take a blade to and carve away those lips until just his bloody teeth remain.

“In three nights’ time, it will be half-Hollows night,” he tells her with a too-courteous nod. “Unlike full Hollow night when the Veil is thinnest between the Underworld, allowing the dead to rise and the monsters of the Waste to unleash, the Hollows will be thinner.”

“Three days...” she whispers weakly before her glassy eyes lift to mine. “I love you, Merikh.”

Fuck. I snap.

Pumping my wings, I charge for Reaver and slam him against the nearest wall. The shouting voices of my brothers blur. Blood and darkness scrawl my vision, and all I feel are those goddamned serpents biting me, releasing their burning poison into my blood.

I can’t use my power. But I will make him bleed.

As soon as he presses his lips into a mocking grin, I throw my fist at his jaw and knock him to the floor. Driven by my hatred and sadism and propelled by my wings, I beat my fists againsthis face. My claws become a thrashing scourge, lashing through his skin and stripping flesh down to the muscle until Mayce and Drago finally haul me off the bastard. I stop growling only when I register the sound of Aislynn crying behind me while Quintessa tries to soothe her.

Reaver staggers to his feet. Rubbing his jaw, he gazes down at the ruined flesh of his shoulder and chest where I maimed him. And...with a twisted and sinister smirk crooking one side of his bloodied and bruised face, the traitorous bastard deadpans. “You really shouldn’t have done that, Merikh. I’m going to have to teach you a lesson, so you understand the consequences when you choose such unpleasant violence.”

When he turns to Quintessa, the poison inside my veins spreads to numb my entire body. At the sight of Reaver’s malevolent attention, Drago pulses flames between his fists, growing more scales while Mayce’s arms turn to pure stone.

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