Twilight of the Gods ✔️

Chapter 34: Final Retribution

Knowing her killer's identity didn't give Daeva the ease she thought it would. In a cruel twist of fate, her murderer had been her soulmate all along, something she still couldn't wrap her mind around.

You knew it was him, didn't you? You knew and you still kept this from me, she thought, echoing her mental voice loud enough for Anhel to hear.

I did it for your own good. He caused you so much pain. You needed my protection, the God insisted.

She wondered if there were other things he omitted for her "protection." Her chest throbbed with fresh betrayal, aching with doubt. It was one thing to find out that the man she almost considered a friend was her soulmate and her killer. It was another not to be able to trust the voice in her head.

He won't hurt you again, Anhel promised.

But you might, she thought.

I'm sorry. I just couldn't bear to see you like that again. You were so bloody and mangled.

A lone dark tear rolled down her cheek. Any resentment she had over Anhel's silence dissipated. She hadn't expected him to cry for her.

I'm fused to your soul, he reminded her. Your pain is my pain whether I like it or not.

Even so, she hadn't thought him capable of crying. He must have already gone through infinite sorrows as someone who has existed in the universe since the beginning of time. If she were him, she'd have no tears left to cry.

That's not how emotions work. If you had only seen what he did to you, then you'd understand.

Another dark tear rolled down her face. She felt Haydn's dagger stab her chest, leaving her skin slick with blood and pain. The scar beneath her collarbone transformed into a fresh wound as Anhel turned back time. Bruises littered her torso as she felt hundreds of imaginary blows hit her body all at once. The pain tore her in half, peeling skin from flesh and flesh from bone. Just when she thought she could no longer bear it, the agony abated. Relief washed over her like a tidal wave.

As the traumatic episode ebbed away, her pounding heart slowed from a heavy thumping to a delicate pulsing. The flashback was the most realistic it had been in the several times she had been forced to relive it. The fear she felt this time was sharp, a penetrating cold that somehow outweighed the heat of the hatred she had for Haydn.

It occurred to her then that the revenge she had sought for the majority of her second life was closer than it had ever been. Here she was, stuck in Otherworld, with the two people who had caused her the most suffering. They were at her mercy as much as she was at theirs. If she was smart about it, she could kill two birds with one stone. She was more than capable of striking with enough force. The issue was the precision, catching her prey off-guard.

She would go after Ezra first as the Board commanded. If Uriel had done as she asked, he would have found the puppet that the gold script dictated she destroy.

Unfortunately, he had no such luck finding the toy.

"He doesn't keep anything like that," her angel said.

She inspected his gold eyes, searching for any sign that he was lying. She had every reason to doubt his loyalty the moment he told her that Ezra was responsible for reviving the angels.

"Does he have any secret compartments?" She suspected that the puppet was a valuable possession of his.

"None that I know of." He stared back at her innocently.

"Secret rooms?" She probed further, trying not to miss any details.

"He has an attic where he's bringing angel corpses to life. No other secret rooms," he said.