Page 53 of The Cruel Dawn
“Are you asking as my commander or as my love?” he asks, coolly, eyebrow high.
“Don’t be like this, Zephar. Okay? Trust me, yeah?” When he doesn’t speak, I gape at him and shake my head. “I’m doing what’s being asked of me, what’s required to save all of us.”
My heart belongs to Zephar—but he doesn’t want it anymore. I can tell.
I stomp out of the tent and head to the gravel path that leads to the narrow canyon separating the immortal and mortal planes.
So many people are waiting for me to act, to save them all.
Elyn remains at the abbey and awaits for me to return with theLibrum Esotericaand its powerful gem, WISDOM.
Jadon waits for me to free and forgive him for his betrayals—against me and against Vallendor Realm.
Prince Idus, pacing alongside the special celebration ritual bed within the Temple of Celestial, waits for me to make him king.
Zephar waits to resume our life together, liberating one town after the next as we slowly make our way to destroy Danar Rrivae.
And the Gashoans wait for me to bless them with another baby and another cow.
Yet I stand here, as stuck as I was the last time, but now, I have the power to act.
Because someone else is waiting.
Me.
To return to Caburh and take the book from Philia. To corner the traitor and take his amulet and kill him. If I don’t, Eaponys and god jails and celebration ritual beds and cows will cease to exist. No one else can do this work except for Elyn and me. So what am I waiting for?
The nausea that comes from using Spryte and from standing so close to Miasma flutters through me again. I grab hold of my knees and wait for the sensation to pass. My breathing tightens, and the urge to weep overwhelms me.Don’t do it, don’t cry. But I give in and watch as heavy teardrops thump onto the toes of my boots. Crying doesn’t lessen the heaviness; it only grows heavier, and what I’m feeling is suddenly no longer queasiness or sadness, but worse:
Fear.
Fear of living an incomplete being.
Fear of failing and not being a perfect god.
Fear of death—not just my death, but the deaths of my father, Jadon, Ancress Tisen, the children of Gasho, Prince Idus…
Shari whines and barks, pulling me out of my head.“Please.”
I frown. “Is that…? Is thatyou? Are you…speakingto me, Shari?”
She pants some more, then cocks her head.“You must…”
I kneel before the wolf, my amulet trembling against my chest. “Am I hearing your voice right now?” This voice in my head is as soft as smoke.
Her eyes shimmer as she holds my gaze.“Yes.”
“Lady!” A woman’s voice, not Shari’s.
The wolf’s ears twitch.
“Please come!” Yes, this call for help sounds like it’s coming from a mortal woman, but she isn’t from Gasho—still, she sounds familiar.
“Lady!” a man cries out. “Forgive my unbelief. Come now. Please hurry, I pray to thee, Lady of the Verdant Realm!”
I spin around, trying to determine where those prayers are coming from.
The woman screams.
