Page 226 of Psycho Gods

He weaved a fairy tale.

I never wanted him to stop speaking.

I fell asleep with his warm body squished against mine, wild tales of ponies with bows and rolling hills dancing through my head.

The leader of the kings was slowly dropping his mask, and I was intrigued by the man it was revealing.

Flames danced in the air around us and cast a golden glow.

With my head tucked beneath his chin, I realized what he reminded me of.

Sunshine.

Chapter 41

Aran

BATTLE

Travail (noun): a state of great suffering of body or mind.

DAY 29, HOUR 4

I woke up to sirens wailing.

Lights flashed.

I was convinced an apocalypse was happening, and we were all going to die.

Finally, my luck was turning around.

“The angels have returned from their scouting mission!” The alarm system blared over the room’s enchanted speaker system.

Never mind.

I grunted as a heavy, warm weight rolled off me.

Someone kissed my forehead gently. “You’re perfect,” they whispered in my ear.

I rubbed at my tired eyes.

They were gone.

The speakers continued relentlessly.

“The third ungodly infestation has been located, and RJE devices have been calibrated for coordinates.” Lights flashed. “All soldiers report to the cafeteria in .03 hours. Repeat. All soldiers report to the cafeteria in .03 hours. Reminder to move stealthily, quiet must be observed in open areas. Do not compromise the base.”

Whatever angel hit the preprogrammed emergency broadcast button was getting punched in the throat.

There was literally no need to rush into battle.

It was still dark out.

Men stumbled around the room, getting ready like there was a fire. The twins and the missing kings had returned sometime in the night.

My fingers froze together as ice crawled up my forearm.

The room was a flurry of activity as everyone in our legion panicked. Malum shouted something.