With the very ends of his hair still trapped between his fingers, Nyx pulled the hair in front of his eyes so that he could see it had been changed from black to purple. “You belong to me now. When you finally run out of time, recall that I still hold your missing years.”
“I’ll remember,” Caelan whispered.
Nyx clapped his hands together, causing Caelan to start. “Good! Then we should be off.”
Caelan shoved to his feet, wincing at his poor knees and back. Just being near Nyx left him feeling older. “But what about Safa? How do I stop her?”
The god looked down his wrinkled nose at him, his brows bunched together. “You kill her,” he answered simply, as if Caelan was an idiot for even asking. “But that’s the wrong question.”
“How do I stop Zyros?”
Nyx’s smile returned and he nodded. “Better, but not quite there yet.”
Caelan frowned. Nyx was going to drive him insane. Why couldn’t the gods just tell him what he needed to know? What the hell was more important than stopping Zyros?
As if Nyx could hear his thoughts, the god leaned close and whispered in his ear, “Have you even considered why you’re stopping Zyros at all? Or even, why we were all imprisoned in the first place?”
Okay, Nyx had a point. Those were some good questions. He turned his head and opened his mouth to ask for answers, but the god tapped his forehead with one finger.
“Not yet,” Nyx snapped but softened it with a smile. “We’ve got somewhere to go and someone to meet with first. Trust me, she knows more about this story than I do.” Nyx held his hand out in front of both of them and Caelan watched as it was instantly bathed in bright orange flames.
“The Isle of Stone. The Goddess of Fire,” he mumbled. Another trip. Another god to rattle about in his brain.
“Good boy.”
Caelan gasped and lurched upright, his head screaming at him in pain. The world swam, and he was suddenly aware of the bitter cold as if it had sunk straight down to his bones. He blinked and everything was darker than it had been just a second ago. Nyx was…
“Cael!” Rayne shouted.
“Fuck! Cael!” Eno joined him.
An arm was suddenly sliding around his shoulders, helping him to remain upright. Caelan rubbed his eyes and looked up to find Rayne’s face just above his own, tear-streaked and pale.
“Cael, we lost you. We thought we lost you,” Rayne murmured. He tightened his arms on Caelan and pressed a hard kiss to the top of his head. “You were dead. You died and I couldn’t revive you,” Rayne continued into his hair.
“I’m okay,” he said and then cleared his throat against the roughness there. “The Dead God was not dead, and he didn’t appreciate me trying to bring him back to life. Nyx is the God of Time.”
“Oh fuck,” Eno muttered, and Caelan swore he heard a soft chuckle in his mind that belonged to Nyx. Oh, wonderful. He’d made himself at home.
Caelan freed himself enough to find Eno laying with his back against the wall. The front of his shirt was shredded and soaked with blood. Three large, deep furrows were partially healed across his chest as if something with enormous claws had raked him.
“What the—” Caelan started and couldn’t continue. He shoved off Rayne and half crawled over to Eno’s side. The man was pale and his smile was lopsided. “What happened? Who or what attacked you? Was it some of Safa’s beasts?” He shot out demands for information all while placing his hands on Eno’s chest. Tula’s power jumped at his command and coursed straight into Eno. The man winced and twisted a little. Caelan was too panicked to use a light touch. He turned his glare on Rayne. “Why didn’t you properly heal him?”
“Don’t!” Eno snapped. “Rayne tried. He at least stopped the bleeding and relieved the pain. But with you dead and Drayce…” Eno’s voice trailed off.
Drayce! How had he not noticed him missing?
Caelan’s hold on Tula’s healing faltered as he twisted around, searching for his best friend in the darkness. “Where’s Drayce? What happened to him?”
Rayne kneeled next to Eno, both of his hands tightly clasping one of Eno’s. “You need to remain calm. You died, and we couldn’t bring you back. You’ve been dead for more than an hour.”
Raw pain tightened Calean’s throat as a lump formed to hold in his scream. His thoughts were a scattered mess so that Drayce’s name was on repeat in time with his racing heartbeat. The building panic was already reaching for the powers of the gods at his fingertips, ready to unleash his fury on whoever harmed his friend, his lover. “Where’s Drayce?” he demanded, his voice trembling.
“He lost control, Cael. We tried to restrain him, reason with him, but he attacked Eno and—”