❛WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU MAKE THE TEN MOST POWERFUL GODS ALIVE PLAY A GAME OF MUSICAL CHAIRS WITH ONE SEAT?❜
They fight - to the death.
They fight over three crowns and a throne with steel spiked maces. They despair a little more everyday keeping thei...
The last thing I heard was Pandora's frustrated cry as we disappeared.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
HEWE, STEFFITH.
TRISTAN
ELODIE.
HERE.
PAY YOU WILL, Ambrosine had promised. I curse you, Tristan Valmont. You will give back what you took from us. Only death will pay for life. Your death. At your sister's own hands.
And on the day your curse fulfils itself, that day your sister will rise and kill you with her own hands.
She stood a few metres away from me, beautiful, young, dead before her time.
Those piercing blue eyes looked at me - eyes that were a mirror of my own, eyes full of hurt and disappointment, eyes full of death and anger. She had not forgiven me - and she never would. Not after what I had done to her - not after she had practically begged me for death.
"How will you escape this, Tristan Valmont?" Zadicus softly hissed. "How will you escape the hands of fate?"
That shard of Bloodstone was wrapped tightly in her fist - the very weapon I had killed her with.
"You shouldn't have done it," she whispered gently, stray strands of her jet black hair blowing around her bloodless face. "I trusted you, Tris."
The words broke apart and cleaved my heart, hurting better than a branding iron. I could have collapsed and fallen to her feet for all the good it would have done. Guilt washed over me. Heavy, warm and treacherous, making me sick in the gut as nausea flooded my senses.
My sister.
My father.
My hands - my hands were stained with so much blood that nothing, no one, could wash the blood out.
It was my turn now.
My turn to die.
Zadicus's next blow hit me squarely on the shoulder, cutting open a huge wound under my fighting leathers. My fingers itched to rip the armor apart and yank the bloody thing off my skin, but I pushed the thought aside as my left hand wrapped around Aetherius and the right one gripped the Thunderbolt. The wound underneath was heavily oozing out blood, throbbing in sharp pulses.
