The Savage Rage of Fallen Gods (Savage Falls #1) Read Online J.A. Huss

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal Tags Authors: Series: Savage Falls Series by J.A. Huss
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Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
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In a world without Callistina, I would go into the future and kill baby Pressia. I would not hesitate. I might even smile as I did it.

But I’m not in a world without Callistina. I’m in a world with her.

So I take in a new breath and I nod my head as I shrug my shoulders. “You’re right. I would never do that. Because I would never want to lose you.”

And that’s the God’s. Honest. Truth.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT - CALLISTINA

I know he was thinking about it. Once that plan of his came out of my mouth, it was done. He would do it. I have been thinking about this for a long while as Ire and I trotted through the mist. I have been thinking about Pressia’s vision of Eros in her nursery.

An Eros with golden wings walks through a magic door and into Pressia’s nursery, kills her, and breaks his curse.

But then I saw him here in the fog, pulling out all his feathers.

If he didn’t have feathers, he wouldn’t go into the nursery.

And that’s how I figured it out.

If he gets those golden wings, then killing Pressia is the only ending there is.

I had kind of resigned myself to this fact as Ire took me through the fog. Come to terms with it. Pressia was right. Eros is kind of a dick. I mean, he’s done many bad things.

But with me, on that trip that wasn’t real, he did a lot of good things too.

I saw both the god he was and the god he could be.

The man he should be. The one he was meant to be.

And wasn’t that part of his curse? Be the man you know you should?

I didn’t give him an ultimatum. He had already made his choice.

And his choice was me.

I look down at the massive pile of golden feathers at our feet. It hurts to look at his mutilated wings, but it gives me a sense of relief as well. I point at the feathers. “What are we going to do with those?”

Eros lets out a breath. “Well. I was gonna use them to forget.”

“Forget what?”

“Everything. Just make a clean slate. That’s what the Forgetting Time was. Just a clean slate. It takes big, big magic. But golden feathers, they’re like…” He sighs. “Like some of the most potent magic ever made.”

“I don’t think we can leave them here,” I say. “They’re too powerful.”

“Fuck no. And we’re not taking them with us, either. We need to use them.”

“Use them to do what?”

He looks over at Ire, then down at me. “Well, I think I have enough to put it all back.”

“Put what back?”

“You.” He smiles. “And Ire too.” I’m confused so he explains. “With this many golden feathers, Callistina, I can do pretty much anything. I can give you everything you lost. And Ire, too. Since I was the one who did that to him.”

I go to protest here and correct him. Explain a little bit better about how it was just a dream. But he puts up a hand and says, “I would’ve done it. To him.” He nods his head at Ire. “And to you. And I would’ve killed baby Pressia in that nursery. So I don’t want to hear any arguments. I’m going to use every single feather to make the two of you whole again.”

I picture myself the way I was. The way I should be. With short, velvety golden fur, and long legs that have hocks and end in paws. Massive golden antlers on my head.

But it’s too much. It’s a gift that can’t be real. So I stop.

“I can do it,” Eros says. “Just watch.”

And that’s what I do. I watch as he sits down and starts sorting his feathers on the ground, putting them into very specific piles. Not by size or color, but some other way that doesn’t make sense to me. I could ask him to explain, and he would. I know he would. But I don’t want to interrupt him, I just want to do as I’m told. I just want to watch.

There are hundreds of piles all around us by the time he’s done. And when he looks at me, his eyes are smiling. “You need a very specific spelling and enough feathers for every single detail.” He pans a hand to his piles. “And that’s what I’ve done here.”

He stands up and offers me his hand. I take it, stand as well, and he places me in the center of the circle. “Stay right here.”

He leaves the circle and walks over to Ire. He has a private conversation with the beast that ends with a snort that must be agreement, because Ire walks towards me, carefully picking his way around the piles of feathers, and stops in the center of the circle right at my shoulder.


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