Page 113 of The Merciless Ones

Keita cups my chin in his hand. “You all right, Deka? How are your hands?”

I shrug, glance down at my fingertips, the sores there mirrored by the ones now dotting my arms. They haven’t healed, even though it’s been hours since we fled, and I don’t expect them to any time soon.

Worry blossoms in Keita’s eyes. “They’re not getting better?”

I shake my head, already knowing why. When the ansetha necklace dug its roots into me, it shifted something inside me, something important. And then I compounded this loss by giving too much power to the others.

By making them stronger, I’ve made myself weaker. Much, much weaker. But it was worth it to free the Forsworn and bring that hateful temple crashing to the ground.

White Hands moves closer. “Let me see,” she demands, holding out her hands, which she’s covered in her gauntlets again.

I show her, not altogether surprised when she sighs in heavy resignation. “It’s to be expected,” she says. “The core is divine, but this vessel isn’t yet so.”

“Wha does that mean?” Britta asks.

“Deka’s body is breaking down,” White Hands explains. “The strain of giving us all that power – it was likely too much. It’s even more imperative now that she reconnects to the part of her that’s divine.”

Britta frowns at her. “Still don’t understand wha yer sayin’.”

“It’s simple,” White Hands says. “For Deka to fulfil her task and prevent her body from breaking down, she needs to reconnect to her divinity. In other words, she needs to become a god.” Her eyes glance meaningfully over at me. “The newest god of Otera.”

I slump beside Keita, her words taking what’s left of my strength out of me. Their sheer weight presses down on me, the pressure growing ever more insistent as Ixa finally lands in a small oasis at the edge of the desert and we dismount.

I need to become a god. The thought circles in my mind over and again. How exactly does one do that? And if I do accomplish it, will I require worship, the way the Gilded Ones and the Idugu do, or will I become a remote and alien being like the Singular?

As I walk over to the water, deep in thought, two shadows slip up behind me – Britta and Keita. “A god?” Britta humphs, shaking her head. “It’s never easy, is it, Deka?”

“No, it isn’t,” I say.

“But that’s why you have us,” Keita says, wrapping his arms around me and then resting his head on mine.

I smile gratefully when Britta joins in as well, her arms circling me. “Whatever happens, we’re here for ye, Deka, all the way.”

“Through thick and thin, in this world and the next, we’re here for you,” Keita adds.

“Always,” Britta whispers.

Always…

The word washes over me, soothing me, pushing back my questions, my worries. I know the future will come faster than I imagine, and that it’ll be filled with my new task: reclaiming my divinity, using it to fight the gods. But even though I’m frightened by it, I’m not daunted. Because I have my friends, all of them now powerful beyond imagining. When I falter, they’ll be there to support and guide me. When I stumble, they’ll be there to take the next step.

And even if they’re not, I have myself.

If there’s one thing the past few months have taught me, it’s that I’m more capable than I ever knew; that I’m more than just the quiet, naive girl I was in Irfut, foolishly hoping for others to accept me when I couldn’t accept myself. I’ve conquered armies, battled gods – I know I can do anything that I wish. And what I wish now is to become a god myself, the new god of Otera. No— I shake away the thought. I want more than just that, more than just a predatory existence depending on worship, on sacrifice.

What I truly want is to be a blade – the blade that strikes down all the gods. The Gilded Ones, the Idugu – all the beings that wish to lay claim to the people of Otera. As I look up at the silver moon, White Hands’s words from not so long ago echo through my mind: Names are what give things power… If that is true, I already have a new name for myself: the Angoro.

The Gilded Ones and the Idugu would do well to rest now and gather all the strength they can for the days ahead. Because I am Deka, the Angoro, slayer of the gods. And I am coming for the gods of Otera.