Page 193 of As Above, So Below

Is it possible for the god of death to love a creature other than himself?

No.

He’s proven time after time it’s not.

My father descends the few steps in his approach, his tail flicking behind him as his eyes burn. I remain perfectly still, aside from wiggling my toes in my boots. I smile. I still have agency over mybody. He’s not used compulsion.

Yet.

An oversight he will regret.

It’s an opportunity I can’t afford to let slip by.

Unfurling my fists, my fingers brush against the hilt of the bloodstone dagger. Knowing I carry one of the only weapons capable of killing a god provides a strange sense of comfort. It also leaves me laden with pressure and expectation—if I don’t succeed, lives will be lost.

And I don’t want that—thatstainon my essence.

Should I miss his heart with the blade…

I won’t miss my own.

“You will pay for what you have done,” he snarls and to my surprise, I don’t flinch. “And in time, you will make up for it.”

In a flash, he closes the distance between us, his hand wrapping around my throat. I’m lifted off the floor and pulled close. Staring into his eyes, I smile weakly and wait. Knowing damn well this could be the last moment of my existence, I strike—as fast as Ryc’s light—shoving the bloodstone blade between us.

Deep into his chest.

The rage on his face contorts as he realizes what’s happening. He drops me, and my fingers still wrapped around the dagger’s grip, force the blade downward through his flesh. I release the hilt before the blade is yanked any farther away from his heart. Landing roughly on my backside sends jolts of pain through my hip and spine. Grimacing, I scramble to stand and back away, desperately seeking momentary safety outside of his reach.

The moonstone of the pommel glimmers with iridescent blue and green hues, bright against the outpouring of black blood staining Netharis’ crimson shirt. I didn’t miss his heart.

As the stain grows, I lift my eyes to his, meeting his stare. In all the times Netharis has looked at me, I was nothing to him. Nothing more than a burden, a problem to be controlled, a tool to be used. But this time, there’s fear in his blood-red eyes.

And I smile.

I’ve never seen the god of death scared.

Netharis stumbles forward, roaring as he reaches for me onceagain. The Tower quakes violently, throwing me from my feet, and I landhardon the obsidian floor. Ripping the blade from his chest, he throws it to the ground. It skitters across the floor, leaving a trail of sulfuric blood that bores like acid into the obsidian.

It stops far beyond my reach and I swing my eyes to Netharis. All the panic I hadn’t felt leading up to this comes rushing into me all at once.

I’ve pierced his heart.

Why hasn’t the void taken him?

Turning, I scamper on my hands and knees—trying to reach the dagger again. It didn’t kill him.

I’ve failed.

From behind me, he grabs a fist full of my hair and I scream.

He releases me with a scream of his own—a chilling sound of a thousand tormented voices. It’s a scream borne of the entire hells, the countless souls he’s damned, causing the court of the hells to cower.

A pulse of magic explodes from Netharis and slams into my back, knocking everyone to the ground with cries and screams of their own. Daring to peer over my shoulder as I lay sprawled on my stomach, I’m forced to shield my eyes from the hellfire that rips from his wound.

In seconds it consumes him, turning his body to ash.

Charred petals drift slowly to the floor as I stare at the pile, trembling.