MORVEN'S POV
We crashed onto solid ground, and I immediately knew something was catastrophically wrong.
I felt cold.
For the first time in three thousand years, I felt cold. The sensation was so alien, so shocking, that for a moment I couldn't move. Just stared at my hands as they trembled.
Gods don't tremble. Gods don't feel cold.
What had she done to me?
"Where are we?" The girl—Elara—pushed herself up from the ground, coughing. We'd landed in some kind of abandoned temple deep in a forest. I'd torn through reality half-blind, just trying to get us away from that mountain before the other gods sensed what happened.
Before they realized I was vulnerable.
I ignored her question and focused inward, reaching for my power. It was still there—vast and deadly—but it felt... muted. Contained. Like someone had wrapped chains around my divine essence and squeezed it into a space far too small.
And those chains led directly to her.
Rage exploded through me.
"You." I crossed the distance between us in one stride and grabbed her throat, slamming her against the temple wall. "What. Did. You. Do?"
Her eyes went wide with fear, but she didn't beg. Didn't cry. Just grabbed my wrist with both hands and gasped, "I don't—know—"
Through our connection—that horrible, invasive bond—I felt her confusion. Her terror. And underneath it, stubborn determination that refused to break even now.
She genuinely didn't know what she'd done.
Which made it worse, because that meant this was an accident. A cosmic, catastrophic accident that had chained a god to a mortal.
I released her throat and stumbled backward, my hand going to my chest where the silver mark burned. The Binding of Souls. The one ritual the ancient gods had created and then destroyed because it was too dangerous. Too permanent.
And somehow, this girl's blood had activated it.
"Explain," I demanded. "What are you? No normal human could trigger that ritual."
Elara rubbed her throat, her voice hoarse. "The High Priestess said I have divine blood. From my mother. She said..." She paused, thinking. "She said my mother carried ancient blood from when gods and mortals walked together."
Divine blood. That explained the altar's reaction, but not why the binding had been so complete. So absolute.
I could feel her. Everything. Her racing heartbeat matched mine—no, wait. Since when did I have a heartbeat? Gods didn't need hearts. We were pure energy and will.
But now I could feel my chest rising and falling with breath I shouldn't need. Could feel my stomach cramping with a sensation I vaguely recognized from my mortal life millennia ago.
Hunger.
"No." I pressed my hand harder against the mark. "No, this isn't possible. I'm immortal. I don't need food or air or—"
A wave of dizziness hit me. My knees buckled, and I actually fell. Fell like a mortal with weak legs and finite energy.
"What's happening to you?" Elara moved closer, cautiously.
"Stay back!" I snarled, but my voice cracked. Another new sensation—exhaustion. My body was growing tired. "This is your fault. Your blood bound me to your mortal form. Now I'm..." I couldn't even say it. Couldn't admit what I was feeling.
"Mortal," Elara finished quietly. "You're becoming mortal."
"I'm not mortal!" The words echoed through the ruined temple. "I'm a god. I've existed for three thousand years. I've ended civilizations. I am death itself!"
But even as I said it, I felt another cramp in my stomach. Another chill across my skin. My divine power was still there, but it was compressed, filtered through this weak, limited, mortal body.
Through our bond, I felt Elara's realization. "You're scared."
I laughed—a harsh, bitter sound. "Scared? I'm furious. You've destroyed me. Trapped me in flesh that will decay and die. Do you understand what you've done?"
"I didn't do it on purpose!" Her fear was shifting to anger now. I felt it through the connection, mixing with my own rage. "You think I wanted this? To be bound to a god who wants to kill me?"
"Then we agree on one thing." I forced myself to stand, even though my legs shook. "We need to break this binding."
"How?"
"I don't know!" The admission cost me. Gods always knew. We were supposed to have answers. "The ritual was destroyed for a reason. There might not be a way to—"
I stopped. Through our bond, I suddenly felt something from her. Not fear or anger this time, but sharp, agonizing pain.
She hadn't made a sound, but I looked at her and saw blood dripping from her wrists. The barbed chains from earlier had left deep wounds that were still bleeding.
And I felt every bit of her pain as if it were my own.
"Your wounds," I said through gritted teeth. "Heal them."
"I can't." She swayed, her face pale. "My magic is... it's not working right. Everything feels different since the binding."
Of course. The binding had mixed our essences. Her mortal magic was probably trying to adjust to divine energy flooding through it. And my divine power was suffocating under mortal limitations.
We were both crippled.
I stalked toward her, ignoring how the movement made my muscles ache—another mortal weakness I'd forgotten existed. "Give me your wrists."
She hesitated, then held out her bleeding arms.
I pressed my fingers to the wounds and pushed power through them. It should have been instant—I'd healed injuries a thousand times worse with barely a thought. But now the magic came slowly, reluctantly, like trying to push water through clogged pipes.
Still, the wounds closed. The bleeding stopped.
Through our connection, I felt her relief. And something else. Gratitude.
"Don't thank me," I snapped, releasing her. "I didn't do it for you. If you die from blood loss, I get trapped in the void forever. I'm keeping you alive out of pure self-interest."
"Right." She pulled her arms back. "Self-interest."
But she didn't believe me. I could feel her emotions clearly—she thought there was something more to it. Something almost... kind.
Foolish mortal. I'd been the Death God for three millennia. I'd forgotten how to be kind.
Another hunger pang twisted my stomach, sharp enough to make me gasp. When was the last time I'd eaten? Never. I'd never eaten because gods didn't need to.
"You need food," Elara said. "Both of us do."
"I don't need—" My stomach growled. Actually growled. The indignity of it made me want to destroy something.
"There might be supplies left in this temple," she continued, already moving toward a doorway. "If it wasn't completely ransacked—"
"Stop." I grabbed her arm, and the contact sent a jolt through us both. Our bond flared, and suddenly I could see flashes of her memories. The betrayal. The march. The rocks and garbage thrown at her while she kept her head high.
She gasped, and I knew she was seeing my memories too. My imprisonment. Three thousand years of isolation. The slow, grinding torture of being drained like a battery while the world forgot I'd once been more than a monster.
We jerked apart, both breathing hard.
"Don't touch me," we said simultaneously.
A moment of awkward silence.
Then, distantly, I heard voices. Mortal voices, moving through the forest toward our temple.
"Found something!" a man shouted. "There's an old temple here! Check for survivors from the mountain!"
Lavinia's guards. They were searching for us.
And in my weakened state, I wasn't sure I could fight them all. Not without using so much power that it would kill Elara from the strain—which would kill me too.
"We need to hide," Elara whispered.
"I don't hide from mortals."
"You do now." She grabbed my hand—sending another shock through our bond—and pulled me deeper into the temple. "Because if they find us, Lavinia will find a way to use this binding for her own gain. She wanted to control you, remember? Now you're vulnerable."
I hated that she was right.
We ducked behind a collapsed wall just as guards entered the temple. Six of them, armed and alert.
"Search every corner," their leader commanded. "The High Priestess wants them found. Dead or alive."
Through our connection, I felt Elara's terror spike. These men had dragged her to her execution. Had watched her suffer. And now they were hunting her again.
Something hot and protective surged through me—an emotion I hadn't felt since my mortal life when I'd had a kingdom to defend.
No. I pushed the feeling away. I didn't care about this girl. She was just the mortal attached to my life force.
But even as I thought it, her fear bled through our bond, mixing with my own anger until I couldn't tell where her emotions ended and mine began.
The guards moved closer to our hiding spot. One more step and they'd see us.
I gathered what power I could, preparing to fight even if it hurt us both—
Elara's hand found mine in the darkness and squeezed.
"Together," she whispered so quietly only I could hear. "Whatever happens, we face it together now."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell her I faced nothing "together" with mortals.
But her heartbeat pounded against mine through our bond. Our matched marks glowed faintly in the darkness. And for the first time in three thousand years, I wasn't alone.
I hated it.
I needed it.
And I had no idea which feeling was mine and which was hers anymore.
The guard's footsteps stopped right in front of our hiding place.