“Then don’t be a pawn for them anymore!” Eno snapped at him. He surged to his feet to tower over Caelan where he kneeled in the water. “You’re a god now, right? You don’t have to follow their orders. You don’t have to play their games.”
“So, where does that leave me? And Thia? Do you want me to kill them all?”
“I don’t know!” Eno shouted. “I don’t know what the answer is. That’s what Rayne is here for, but you’re not asking your advisor for help. You’re giving in to your anger and fear and frustration. You’re fucking better than this. You’re a damn Talos, first and always.”
The fury that had bubbled up inside of Caelan dissolved before Eno’s eyes. Even the creepy paleness of his eyes darkened to sky blue. The person he knew and loved slowly climbed into the driver’s seat of this frighteningly powerful creature.
“Get out of that water. You’re gonna freeze to death,” Eno ordered with a wave of his hand. He listened to the sloshing of the water increase as Caelan trudged to the shore. He dug around in his bag until he came up with a thin, worn piece of cloth that could serve as a towel. Handing it over to Caelan, he snagged a shirt and pair of pants. They’d both be too big for Cael, but it was enough to wear on their return trek to the village, where he could get his own clothes.
Eno sat on his rock again while Caelan dried off and pulled on his borrowed clothes. When he dropped to the ground beside him, Eno couldn’t help but smirk. Caelan was the King of Erya and a god, but he looked like a ragamuffin child of twelve or thirteen in the shirt that was trying to swallow him completely and the too-baggy pants. Prior to leaving Stormbreak for Caspagir all those months ago, Caelan had worn his hair cut relatively short, always above the collar. Now it hung down to brush his shoulders and frequently blocked his eyes when it was dry.
“They needed a weapon to fight Zyros, so they turned me into the God of Death,” Caelan said, breaking the silence that had stretched between them. His voice was low and even, but there was something threading through his words that made Eno think Caelan’s heart was breaking. “Everywhere I go, I’m touched by death, and they expect me to kill another god. And…and I don’t know that they’re necessarily wrong. She’s going to destroy the world, and she needs to be stopped.”
“I think even if they hadn’t made you into a god, you’d see it as your duty to stop Zyros.”
Caelan lifted wide eyes to Eno and shook his head. “Yes, Zyros needs to be stopped, but I was talking about Tula.”
Eno lurched back. It felt like Caelan had punched him in the chest and he was waiting for his heart to start working again. “Tula?”
“Zyros wants to destroy Thia, or at the very least, turn it all into the Ordas. She needs to be stopped. But after everything that’s happened, the truth of what was done to Zyros, what was done to me—can we really leave Tula running wild in the world, too?”
As much as he wanted to, Eno couldn’t argue with him, and that thought was terrifying in itself. He’d never considered himself particularly religious, but while serving as the prince’s bodyguard, he’d made more than one trip to the Godstone room in the Central Tower. He’d stood before the awe-filling and intimidating green crystal, believing that the essence of the Goddess of Life was captured inside. Like every other citizen of Erya, he’d believed that Tula was a loving, motherly benefactor who watched over her children.
In less than a year, he’d learned that it was all a lie.
Tula was no caring mother. She was jealous, manipulative, and cruel.
She needed to be stopped, or at the very least, reined in somehow.
“I’ve been reborn the God of Death so I can get rid of two goddesses,” Caelan continued. “I think I’ll have to destroy Kaes as well. He’s too in love with the Goddess of Life. He’d try to stop me. He doesn’t care about the lives she’s ending.”
Eno shook his head. “Rayne told me a little of what you talked about, how you’re both trying to figure out what kind of god you are. I’ve kept my mouth shut. Figured you both knew better than me.”
“What?”
A heavy sigh tumbled from his parted lips and he glared at Caelan. “You think you’re the God of Death, but that’s ridiculous. It’s so freaking obvious who you are. Cael, you were reborn to be the God of Hope.”
The young man jerked backward, his hands bracing behind him to keep from falling over while his mouth opened, but no sound came out.