Goddess Liv Savell (best autobiographies to read .TXT) 📖

The moment Va'al had entered this body had been one of pain. Tristan was huddled in some snowy mountain pass, half-delirious with fever and sweating despite the cold, his back all oozing and cooked from dragonfire when he whispered the name inscribed on the dice he had found in the cave. The Misfit God had been reborn in agony—days of hazy pain while he waited out the fever and dragged his pitiful human body into the clan below to be healed. The healer of the Aur’draig Cwm had not been as skilled as Alphonse, but with her help, he had recovered.

The experience had not imparted Va'al with any great knowledge of dealing with wounds, but the memory of pain stayed with him. “It takes time, ordinarily,” he said. But this was no simple wound. It was possible it would never heal. “But you can be rid of it if we get our new bodies.”

Swallowing, Enyo looked away from her hand and into Va'al’s face again. “I cannot wield Calamity this way. I cannot use the appendage at all.”

“Cut it off then.” The voice was that of Moaz, who slunk in from the shadows. How long had he been lurking there? Watching?

“Oh yes. Just cut off my arm. Humans survive that all the time.” Enyo growled, whipping her head to watch Maoz approach. He shrugged, his curls flattened and slicked back away from his face, highlighting the angular lines of his jaw. He looked more like himself. His old self, at least. He must have been swimming in the lake, heedless of the creatures there if they even still lived.

“When an animal is caught in a trap, they will chew off a limb to escape. You know your son. Do you truly believe the burn is all he gave you?”As if to prove Maoz’s point, a stripe of black turned grey and hardened.

“It’s a clever trick,” she muttered, giving Va'al a pointed look.

Va'al shrugged again. She wasn’t wrong. Weakening Enyo had been a smart move, for all the inconvenience it was going to cost them. “I don’t know enough about mortal bodies to say for sure that cutting off the arm would be a good idea.” Va'al reached out and stroked Enyo’s cheek with the pad of one weathered thumb, thinking. They could find a healer. Perhaps in Gwynhafan, there would be one who could tell them what to do to fix or slow this injury…

But the best, quickest means of fixing it was still obvious to his mind.

“Let us just continue to Gwynhafan. With Esha’s artifact, we will be one away from being able to re-summon our old forms, and then no injury will trouble us. We would be able to face Mascen, to send him back to the island he ought never to have left. If your arm gets worse, there will be healers there.”

❂

Maoz only nodded in agreement, but Enyo frowned. She hated it when Va'al was right. And, of course, it had to be Esha. But he was right. Her old body would indeed withstand the onslaught of her child’s wrath. Better. She would be able to put him firmly in his place. That he thought to rise up against her and Va'al while they were locked in these inferior forms…

With a groan, Enyo let Va'al help her to her feet, the weight at her side a reminder of her useless hand.

“You always spoiled him,” she pointed out, unable to conceal the smallest piece of pride. Her son. Their son. The First Born. The strongest God-offspring. Also, the most dangerous and ambitious.

“I did?” Va'al raised an eyebrow. In truth, they had both fawned over Mascen in the beginning. He was the smartest, fastest, strongest of the God-offspring. Striking and nearly as powerful as Enyo. What wasn’t to love and moon over? Until he decided to take most of the continent for himself. “I seem to remember you doing much of the coddling. Come on. The sooner we get there, the sooner you cease to hurt.” Va'al steadied Enyo and went to gather his things.

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The journey to Gwynhafan should have been swift and boring. Had Enyo been in her original form, it would have taken a matter of a few days to arrive. Had she been in full health within Alphonse’s body, less than a week.

With her arm weighing her down and bolts of pain wracking her physical form, Enyo was less than slow. The jogging pace Va'al set was barely tolerable, and she hated to know the breaks he often suggested were for her. He could see her waning strength, her lagging steps. Sweat beaded on her brow despite the cool autumn day and Enyo gulped greedily at the water canteen when Maoz offered it.

What was worse, even the beast seemed to sense her frailty and was catering to her needs.

All this set Enyo’s temper on edge, and her nerves jumping. When a shadow, huge and looming, painted the path before them in greys and blacks, her hackles up. Enyo spun to face the oncoming threat, expecting Mascen.

Instead, she straightened up from her crouch with a startled gasp.

Bledig, her and Maoz’s son, was being laid on the earth. The man at his side, easing him down, was Eifion. His wings were a facsimile of Bledig’s, his face contorted with anguish and pain—a reflection of his half-brother’s.

And there, sprouting out of Bledig’s back, was one massive wing and one stump, bleeding sluggishly. It looked as if his wing had been ripped right out of his body. She didn’t have to ask what had happened to understand. Mascen was their half-brother, and in some strange series of events, had decided to maim Bledig.

But Bledig was a God in his own right. Even with an appendage yanked from his body, he was starting to heal. Of course, he wouldn’t regrow an entire wing right away, but the stump was clotting and smooth new skin peeking through. In