THE BURIED GOD
Chapter 29: The Sacrifice
The blade trembled in Damon’s hand.
The heart pulsed. The darkness deepened. The hunger grew. He could feel it pressing against him, testing him, tasting him. It wanted him to cut. It wanted him to bleed. It wanted him to feed.
But he would not feed it.
He would not become it.
He would end it.
“How?” he whispered.
Rook stepped closer.
His gray eyes were wet.
“You cut the seed. You cut the heart. You cut the hunger.”
“I already cut the seed.”
“You cut the seed inside you. Now you must cut the seed inside the mountain.”
“The heart?”
“The heart is the seed. The seed is the heart. They are the same.”
“Then why did the first priestess tell me to cut myself?”
Rook was silent for a long moment.
“Because she was afraid. Because she did not know the truth. Because she wanted you to die.”
Damon’s blood went cold.
“The first priestess lied?”
“The first priestess was not a priestess. She was the hunger. She was the god. She was the mountain.”
“Then who was she?”
Rook’s gray eyes dimmed.
“She was the first sacrifice. The one who opened the door. The one who let the hunger in.”
Damon looked at the heart.
At the pulse.
At the darkness.
“How do I destroy it?”
Rook stepped back.
“You don’t destroy it. You seal it. You bury it. You forget it.”
“With the blade?”
“With the blade. With your blood. With your life.”
Damon raised the blade.
The heart pulsed faster.
The darkness deepened.
The hunger screamed.
No, it said. No. No. No.
Damon swung.
The blade struck the heart.
The heart shattered.
Not into stone. Not into blood. Into light.
Silver light.
Brighter than the sun. Brighter than the stars. Brighter than the hunger.
The mountain shook.
The walls cracked.
The ceiling crumbled.
“Run!” Rook shouted.
Vespera grabbed Damon’s arm.
Lyssa grabbed his other arm.
They ran.
The tunnel was chaos.
Stone fell. Dust rose. Shadows fled.
Damon ran blindly, his legs pumping, his lungs burning, his heart pounding. Vespera pulled him left. Lyssa pulled him right. Rook ran behind them, his old legs moving faster than they should have, his old lungs breathing harder than they should have.
The light followed.
Not the silver light of the heart. A different light. Brighter. Hotter. Hungrier.
They burst from the mountain.
The sun was rising.
The sky was pink and gold.
The mountain was crumbling behind them.
They ran.
They did not stop.
They could not stop.
They reached the edge of the forest.
The mountain fell.
The earth shook.
The sky darkened.
Damon fell to his knees.
The blade was gone.
The heart was gone.
The hunger was gone.
Vespera knelt beside him.
“Damon?”
He looked at her.
His eyes were wet.
“It’s done.”
“The god?”
“Burying.”
“Will he rise again?”
Damon was silent for a long moment.
“I don’t know.”