Destruction stood at the window, staring out at the world below.

Creation continued to lounge on the bed, admiring how the early morning sunlight seemed to cut her form from darkness and hugged all those womanly curves perfectly. She hadn’t said anything in a while, but he found himself content with the silence. There was something perfect about the moment.

She, however, did not seem to share the same feeling.

“It must be nice,” she said finally.

“Admiring you from this vantage truly is,” he quipped back.

Destruction turned, a coquettish smile playing about her cheeks. But that was all the reward she gave him for his remark before turning back to the world. “Being admired—it really must be nice.”

That grabbed his attention, the atmosphere in the room shifting despite his desire to bask in the afterglow a while longer. “Admired? By the humans?”

“Yes.” Her voice had gone soft with thought. “They’ve given you this whole place, a temple—a palace—in your honor. They call you the prince of gods. Even their king has decreed you as their patron.”

“They misunderstand what I am.” Creation finally pulled himself out of bed, trying to also right her unease with the situation in the same breath. The floor was cold underneath his feet and his whole body seemed to ache in the most pleasant of ways from their prior passions. “They saw me one time with Light and think I am his true son, his protégé.”

“Son,” she whispered, her back still turned to him. “Sons and daughters, a construct that they have, but that we will never truly know.”

“My love, of what do you speak?” She was talking in riddles. Pleasant ones, because the riddles were entirely in her own voice, but riddles nonetheless. Creation rested his hands on her bare hips and kissed the skin of her shoulder.

“Gods don’t have children as they do. We can’t breed—we split or we craft. But that’s not true children or families, is it?”

“Does this trouble you?” He rested his chin on her shoulder, looking beyond and trying to see the world as she saw it. Below his tower, men and women went about their business on the city’s edge.

“It doesn’t trouble me. It just is.” Her voice trailed off. “I’ve been thinking a lot about humans lately.”

“You’ve been thinking about a lot of things. I can almost hear the thoughts rushing around.” Straightening, Creation stepped slowly around her side, hand trailing along her hip to the small of her back. With a gentle grasp of her chin, he lightly tugged her attention away from the mortals below and to him. “Tell me what has been occupying your mind?”

“I fear the outcome if I do.”

“You should fear nothing with me.” He lowered his face slightly, just enough to look her right in the eye. Their noses almost touched. “I would never intentionally bring you harm or give you cause to feel pain.” He paused. “I know whatever it is you have been thinking about is significant, as your opinions toward me continue to shift.”

“My opinions are shifting in no small part thanks to you and your actions.” She gave a brief smile, just long enough for Creation to return.

“But it’s more than that. What is it?” His thumb lightly trailed over her cheek.

“It started on the beach, with what you said—Hunt’s idea of killing Chaos . . . that I will only be free when she’s gone.”

“And we will see her dead,” he vowed. As far as Creation was concerned, there was no other way forward for him. Light saw him to be the mate of Destruction—the natural counterpart—but that would be impossible if Chaos did not first meet her end. “I swear to you. I made the arrow myself.”

“Yes, yes, I know you do. And I am sure the arrow is impeccable.” Destruction pulled away slightly, looking back toward the window. “But what if Hunt’s convoluted plan doesn’t work? What if her champion falters?”

“She has been training her champion herself.”

“What if that’s not enough?”

Her questions were beyond his control, so Creation remained silent. No matter what reassurances he offered, her mind would still return to the same panic as before. “So what is your plan?”

Destruction hugged herself, not out of modesty—Creation doubted if the woman even knew what modesty looked like (as she shouldn’t)—but out of hesitation. It come off her in waves.

“You said you would love me, in any age.”

“I did and I will.”

“I want to see that true.”

“What are you saying?”

“I think . . .I can destroy this world.”

Seven words had his magic rallying in objection. Seven words sent sparks along his skin. Destroy the world? There was nothing more horrible to Creation.

“You don’t like it.” She laughed softly, glancing at him. “I can feel it.”

“I don’t like it. But I love you.” This was his mate. He would hear her through and hope that there was perhaps something more to her words. He wrapped his arms around her waist, tugging her close. “Tell me what you would create.”

“What I would see destroyed, you mean,” Destruction corrected. Then, sighing softly, she unloaded her thoughts. “A god split makes demigods, right?”

“Yes. Unless the demigod is one such as I and has been formed by greater gods.”

“Well, a demigod split is made mortal.” Something in Creation resonated truth to the statement so he made no objection, allowing her to continue. “If I were mortal, I could not be targeted by Chaos. I would be useless to her to make Oblivion, in such a state.”

“If you were made mortal, you would die.” His grip tightened around her. He didn’t want a single lifetime with her; he wanted eternity.

“I would, but . . .” She sighed again. “Very well, here’s my thought. If I were to split myself, or be split, part of me would be mortal and the other part of me would be my raw divine essence.

“You could craft a container, a box of sorts, to keep that essence within. As long as it survives, I could never truly die. The other lingering part of my magic and soul would perpetually seek it out.”

“We have no proof of that.” Already, visions of his Destruction fading away into nothingness flooded Creation’s mind.

“But you have no proof otherwise, and it feels right, doesn’t it?” Despite his reluctance, his godly intuition agreed with her. “You could use that magic, and with it, you could destroy this world.”

“And destroy your mortal form with it.”

“But I would return as a mortal again, in a new world—a world you created with your own two hands. I’ve felt the magic unleashed from the destruction of worlds when I destroyed the stars. I know you would have enough power to usher in a new age. Then, there, my soul would return in a new body, looking for its magic, for its other half.” Destruction turned in his arms, cupping his cheeks. “Looking for you.”

He couldn’t tell if she was saying this just to appease him, to win him over to her cause, or because she truly believed the words. But, no matter what the motive, they had the desired effect. He would do anything in the world for her.

“You could give me my magic back and with that I would stand by your side as a demigod. We would rule a new age, just you and I.”

“You’re asking to kill the pantheon, to kill this world,” he whispered.

“And I don’t ask it lightly.” Destruction shook her head. “Despite my name and magic, I don’t celebrate wanton destruction. I celebrate the natural breakdown of the universe, feeding its natural order. But I don’t know if there will be any other way to be truly free. I can’t explain it . . . but I’m not confident in Hunt.”

“You don’t know her.” Creation nuzzled her cheek.

“Neither do you.” Destruction tilted her head, kissing his lips gently. “Think on my idea. Go back to Hunt if you must. I have faith you’ll see this is the best way.”

Creation was helpless to do anything more than nod. Even if he offered resistance and even if it was well-founded, he couldn’t protest her. She was everything to him, and if she wanted the world only to destroy it, then he would give it to her.

Perhaps Light had made them too perfectly matched, for Creation was discovering he was truly loyal to only her.

“I will see what the status is with Hunt, and I will return to you. Hopefully she has already made strides in finding Chaos.” Creation kissed her gently on the lips. “Stay here if you would like. If I am the mortal’s prince, then you can call yourself my princess—though queen is far more accurate.” Was that the faintest of blushes he saw on her tan cheeks?

Destruction nodded, looking back out the window. “Perhaps, it would be nice to have a home to rest in for some time. One that’s slightly more sheltered than my own.” She laughed, then added, mostly to herself, “It’s comical how much your home and mine look alike.”

Just that statement alone sent Creation’s mind wandering. He daydreamed of a world to call their own, a place that would be wholly theirs. But first: Chaos. First, he had to find a solution that ensured his love’s freedom.

To gain everything, he may first have to destroy the world.