Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 110079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
“Hand it over.”
“This isn’t what Yesuntei wanted.”
The God of Storms sneered. “She lost the right to have a say in anything when she died.” Kaes wrapped his fist around the hammer’s long handle and hefted it above his head. “Now, this is the last time I’m going to say it. Hand. It. Over.”
Tyche drew his hand out of his pocket and pinched the orb between his thumb and forefinger as he held it up in front of him. His heart beat out a slow, steady rhythm. His mind was clear. This path was always ahead of him. No matter how hard he tried, this had always been where he was going to end up. Some fates were inevitable as the setting sun, and this one, he would find a way to accept like so many others.
“Come get it, bitch.”
Tyche slammed the ball of energy into his chest, forcing it inside to merge with his own sarira, while a second, long-dormant power banged against the prison he’d made centuries ago, demanding to be set free with the others.
EIGHTEEN
TYCHE
Chaos roared inside Tyche’s head. So much power ripped through him and reached for the magic that he had been born with. Together, they danced and entwined, merging so that there was no separating them. Luck and nightmares. A combination he never thought possible.
But this wasn’t the first time he’d done this.
That first time, he’d taken steps to stop the merger. To keep the powers forever separate…and secret. He’d made the choice to remain Tyche, God of Luck. He’d wanted to stay small and forgettable. No responsibilities. No one depending on him or looking to him for help.
Yet, with an enraged Kaes in front of him and a wounded dragon behind him, remaining small was not an option any longer.
Kaes couldn’t get his hands on Yesuntei’s powers. Giving them to the God of Storms felt no safer than handing them over to the mad Goddess of Dreams.
Whispering voices filled his brain. Doubts. Fears. Suspicious thoughts. He wadded them all into a ball and shoved them aside. If this darkness was part of being the new God of Nightmares, he planned to use it to his advantage. It would not use him.
Thunder boomed like a cannon firing, shaking the city. Kaes shook his sledgehammer and roared. The god raced toward him, his feet hitting the ground so hard that the pavement shattered. Tyche waved his hand, selecting a chunk of bad luck that floated through the air. He tossed it at Kaes, and the god tripped on a ball of dirt. He stumbled, keeping upright, but it was enough to allow nightmarish roots to shoot up and wind around his legs.
Kaes grunted and seized a handful of roots with his left hand. He ripped them off his legs only to have new ones capture his waist. He did this repeatedly, making no progress as the roots trapped him, thickening and pulling him into the dirt.
Tyche gritted his teeth, trying to sort through his old powers and new, learning what he could in a flash. Deep down, he knew he didn’t have enough power to take on a major god and survive. He’d doubled his powers, but he was still a minor god with stolen powers. But he just had to wear Kaes out, right? Like that fake God of Wind on the Isle of Stone.
Lightning streaked from the sky and slammed into Kaes. Tyche winced and held up his hands against the blinding flash of white light. When he lowered his hands and blinked his eyes into focus, he found the roots had been reduced to blackened ash and where the grizzled old man had stood was now a young man with flowing brown hair and glowing white eyes, as if they were made of lightning.
Fuck.
Kaes had other monikers that had been lost to time. Names like the Two-Faced God and the God of Rage. Usually, the calmer and more playful version of the god was the old man who pretended to be the fisherman. However, after being pushed to the point of losing his temper, Kaes embraced his rage and turned into the out-of-control youth.
The young man lifted both of his hands above his head and roared. Wind whooshed through the city, and lightning slammed into the ground, pummeling the world. Tyche dove and rolled, darting about while snatching up any bit of good luck he could find. He alternated between using it on himself and throwing it at Haru. He didn’t dare glance in the dragon’s direction. There was only a faint sense of his presence; his magic was a gentle reassurance. Until the dragon roared.
Double fuck.
Tyche peeked in Haru’s direction. The pale man in bloody robes was gone. In his place was a very pissed-off, sunset-colored dragon. Tyche’s stomach sank to his knees. His one hope had been to keep Kaes distracted, so he didn’t take his rage out on the very injured Haru. Why couldn’t Haru follow the plan he knew nothing about?