The Burning God

“There you are.” He reached a hand out to stroke her cheek. “Did you miss me?”

“Get back,” she said. “Sit down.”

He held his hands up and obeyed, crossing his legs on the dark floor. “Whatever you say, darling.”

Hate was a funny thing. It gnawed at her insides like poison. It made every muscle in her body tense, made her veins boil so hot she thought her head might split in half, and yet it fueled everything she did.

She lifted her arms. Wings shot out of her shoulders, glowing ten feet high.

Kitay had once accused her of being too flamboyant, of sacrificing efficiency for attention.

What did it matter? There was no point to subtlety when everyone knew what she was. And Rin wanted this image burned into their eyelids, the last thing they saw before they died—a Speerly and her god.

History moved in circles—she’d learned that very well by now.

And before she could lift her arms to the sky, they opened fire. The world erupted in scattered dirt and orange flame, and for all her bravado, all she could do was kneel on the ground, wrap her arms around her head, and hope that death came quickly.
“Rin.” Kitay shook her by the shoulders. “Wake up.”
She tasted blood in her mouth. Had she bitten her tongue? She turned to the side, spat, and winced at the crimson splatter on her sheets.
“What?” she asked, suddenly afraid. “Was there—”
“Nothing’s happened,” he said. He pulled down his lip. Angry scars dotted the inside of his mouth. “But you’re hurting me.”
“Gods.” She felt a twist of guilt. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Kitay rubbed at his cheek and yawned. “Just—try to go back to sleep.”
It struck her then how incredibly tired he looked, how shrunken and diminished, so wholly different from the confident, authoritative persona he acquired during the daytime.
That scared her. It seemed like physical evidence that

These soldiers fought under her command. That terrified her. What if they died under her command?

It said, Do it.

Take what you want, it said. I’ll hate you for it. But I’ll love you forever. I can’t help but love you.

Ruin me, ruin us, and I’ll let you.

Nations rise and fall, but appetites remain the same.

We’ve all seen bodies,” Pipaji said.

“It’s different when you’re the one who broke them,

. Regime change requires total domination. Otherwise, if you’ve got cracks in your foundation even before you’ve begun to rule, that sets a poor precedent.