Page 114 of Curse of the Gods

I held him until his cries ceased. No words were spoken. There weren’t any to describe the way we felt in this moment. It was a combination of pain, and grief, and hope, and joy, and I knew I had to be the one to end it. If I didn’t pull away, he’d never let go.

I gave his shoulder a squeeze as I tugged back. “I love you, esiasch.”

Lips quivering, forcing in a deep breath, he struggled to regain his composure. Once he’d mostly calmed himself, he said, “I love you too, Nix.”

Smiling one more time, I lowered myself to the ground. It’d be less traumatic for the witnesses if I died slowly, peacefully, spread out on the soil.

Medica joined me on the grass.

Staring up at the cerulean sky twinkled with stars, I watched as the blue and gray aura of my soul lifted.

I expected to feel pain, like I’d felt when people had tried to siphon my soul from my body in the past. There was always a suction sensation, like my body was being ripped out of itself.

Not this time.

This time, the tightness that had been in my heart for a thousand years finally disappeared.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE

VÉA

Gasping, heaving in breath, I shot forward, vision black. I smacked frantically, hitting myself in the leg, then the face.

“Woah, woah, woah,” someone said.

The voice was familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Not until he was right in front of me. His warm brown eyes were soothing, comforting. He took either of my hands in gentle palms, but I instinctively flung them away.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. You’re alright, honey.” His smile was soft, his voice like velvet. “I know. Waking up’s confusing. But everything’s alright. You’re alright.”

I didn’t say anything. My mouth was too dry to form words.

I just stared at the man before me, trying to make sense of who he was. I knew him—I knew that I knew him—but he didn’t look the same.

“What’s my name, love?”

I tried to say I didn’t know, but my mouth and throat were so dry, my words morphed into a cough.

“Here.” He reached past me, grabbed something, and extended it out to me. A pink cup with a clear lid. When he shook it, ice rattled inside. A white, plastic straw protruded from it.

Plastic.

Plastic.

“Drink.” He held it out for me, pinching the straw between two fingers. “It’s just water. Drink.”

I did.

As the cold liquid chilled down my throat, I stared into his eyes, and it all began to float back.

“What’s my name?” he asked again.

“Hya,” I whispered. “You’re Hya.”

His smile widened. “What’s your name?”

“Véa.”

“It was.” He nodded, tone encouraging. “Do you remember what it is now?”

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