“But the Zastrians call you the Dead God. They worship you,” Caelan said. His brain was scrambling to keep up with the god. None of this was making any sense, starting with why he was now dead.
Nyx turned on the balls of his feet with a nerve-grating gritty slide of his shoes on the floor. He walked over and kneeled in front of Caelan. He gripped Caelan’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, the touch like ice biting into his flesh. “You don’t think it’s odd that you call Tula the Goddess of Life and that old two-faced bastard Kaes the God of Storms?”
“You’re the God of Death,” Caelan whispered.
To his shock, Nyx shrugged, his thin, dark eyebrows lifting with the motion. “Eh, not quite. More like the God of Time.” His wicked smile returned, and his fingers tightened to the point of pain. “And I’ve stolen all of your time for fucking me with my sister’s energy. Who do you think you are?”
Nyx released him and stomped over to the sofa. He threw himself down in the center, his arms stretched along the back and his legs crossed in front of him. A scowl lined his face, all amusement gone.
Caelan pushed up so that he was kneeling before Nyx. “They kept calling you the Dead God. Telling me that I had to wake the Dead God. I thought you were dead and had to be brought to life with the powers from the Goddess of Life. What the fuck was I supposed to do?” By the time he finished, he was shouting.
A slow smile spread across Nyx’s face, and Caelan longed to hit him with something heavy to knock it off again. Maybe the godstone. Or a car. Yes, he wanted to hit Nyx with a car.
“Sounds like you got fucked by my dear sister.” His chuckle was dark as the marble floor and his lip curled at the mention of Tula. “She loves making humans run around on stupid little quests without giving them all the information and then laughs when they inevitably fail.”
Rage bubbled up inside of him, and Caelan climbed to his feet. His knees ached and his legs wobbled as he got upright, but he straightened to his full height. He was looking at Nyx, but there was no sense of power shifting in his favor. Caelan didn’t forget that Nyx held all the power in this realm, but it didn’t matter. “Is that what this is? Some game started by Kaes and Tula? Is any of it even real? Was my mother killed for a game to entertain bored gods?”
The god’s expression became unreadable as he sighed softly. “It started as a game millennia ago that went horribly wrong. The godstone trick was just putting this game on pause,” Nyx murmured with an absent wave of his hand.
“And now? With Safa and Zyros?” he prodded when Nyx didn’t seem willing to continue.
“Zyros has found a way to unpause the game, forcing us to continue playing.” He yawned and covered his mouth with the back of his hand. “Personally, I say let Zyros have her fun, but unfortunately, I’m sure she wants to destroy me as much as she wants to destroy Tula. I like existing, so here you are.” He motioned toward Caelan as if he were the grand prize.
Caelan didn’t feel like the grand prize for anything. Or even the chosen warrior to protect all of Thia. Not that any of that mattered since he was currently dead.
“But if I’m to play this game and protect you from Zyros, you can’t leave me dead,” Caelan argued. “You have to send me back.”
Nyx smirked and his eyes twinkled with something he didn’t want to name. “That is the fun conundrum, isn’t it? Punish you with death and let Zyros wreak havoc on Thia, or return your years to you and allow you to fight as our champion.” He leaned forward, resting one arm on his knee. “Just between you and me, I think you’re going to want to choose the first option. I know where the road for option two leads.”
“I’m not abandoning my people or my friends.”
A loud sigh echoed through the room and Nyx flopped against the sofa. “Boring. I’d even let you stay dead here with me.” He patted the empty sofa cushion on his left with long fingers. “We can watch the end of Thia together from here.”
“No, thank you. I want to return and fight.”
Nyx made a face, a weird mix of disappointment and irritation, but he lightened again in an instant. “Fine. Then we’ll make it into a game.” Nyx reached down into the front pocket of his waistcoat and pulled out a gold pocket watch on a chain. He pressed the fob on the top, the cover popped open. He pinched something in the face and drew out a long glittering chain like that of a necklace. When it was entirely free of the watch, he tossed it into the air where it writhed and slithered like a snake.