Page 157 of Of Blood & Stone

“No!” Sylzenya screamed, her mouth now free.

“Elnok!” Kharis’ yell came from somewhere behind.

Blood filled Elnok’s mouth, dribbling from his lips as he fell. Sylzenya scrambled to her knees, her body her own again, bile rising in her throat. Her blade protruded out of his back, red blood dripping onto the clear orodyte floor.

“Syl—” he breathed, grabbing her hand, “Sylzenya.”

“No, no, no,” she repeated endlessly as she gripped his head, his hand, her eyes telling her the truth but her heart denying it. She hadn’t stabbed him. Elnok wasn’t dying. This was just a nightmare she would wake up from, and he would be next to her, fast asleep and perfectly healthy.

She hadn’t killed him.

“I—” he choked, fingers squeezing hers. “You need to end this.”

“You said we’d do this together, remember?” Sylzenya sobbed. “So you can’t die. Just— Just stay with me, alright?Please,stay with me.”

He coughed up blood, his hand sliding up her face.

“Sylzenya, I love you.”

His hand fell limp, his gold signet ring slipping from his finger, tumbling across the clear orodyte floor, mingling with his blood before falling into a thin crack.

For life there is a price, and only in pain is it made whole. Your choice has been made, and so your consequence is set in blood and stone.

Tears welled in her eyes as she gripped his face.

Her fault.This was all her fault.

A long shadow consumed her as a spindly hand settled on her shoulder.

“See, little thief?” Distrathrus grated, “She was always mine to keep, yours to lose.”

Red filled Sylzenya’s vision as she grabbed the sword out of Elnok’s hand—the sword Aretta cursed to kill Distrathrus—and spun around, shoving it into the god’s stomach.

Suddenly, her body became rigid. Tears stopped running down her face as she stood, her hands still gripping the sword, the pale-faced, yellow-eyed god of chaos staring at her—smiling.

“Wrong body, I’m afraid,” he hissed, yanking the sword out and dropping it. No blood ran into his white robes.

“Save him,” Sylzenya yelled. “If you ever truly cared about me, then you’d let him live.”

“My sister said the very same thing when I killed her human lover,” he snarled.

“You’re out of your godsdamn mind.”

“No, Sylzenya.” He gripped her jaw, pain cracking along her mouth, “Iamagod.”

Rage and hatred swirled in her mouth as she spat her blood on his twisted face.

He took a deep breath, wiping it off, “We’re celebrating tonight, remember? You’re going to resurrect my true form while our little prince-turned-thief decorates our home with his blood. Now, let’s not waste any more time.”

He grabbed her arm. Elnok’s breaths were nothing but wet gurgles, but she couldn’t escape the god’s grasp.

She’d failed Elnok, Kharis, Nyla, her parents, her people… she’d failed everyone.

Distrathrus forced her to her knees before his altar.

“Now,” Distrathrus hissed into her ear, “place your hands in Aretta’s blood, andcreate life.”

Tears clung to her face as she took in a deep breath, willing herself to fight—but there was nothing left to hold onto.

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