17

The night that Silas left, he was planning to go to the temple. He knew an atrocity was about to be committed, and he would rather it be committed in full view of the gods. He only made it to the base of the temple mountain.

Set stood in the middle of the path, his true form bared. He held his scythe out to his side.

"Set," Silas greeted him curtly. He was fully aware of the dagger concealed in his boot, and his fingers were twitching at the thought of grabbing it. He held himself back.

"Feidlimid," Set said. "You got so old I almost didn't recognize you."

Silas kept silent.

Set took a deep breath. "There's only two ways this can end, Feidlimid. You can die, or you can join me."

Silas was taken aback. "Join you? In what?"

"In taking back the God's domain for its rightful ruler."

Silas would have laughed if the situation hadn't been so grave. "No. Not in an eternity," He said.

"You won't live for an eternity in your current state! Don���t you want to be a God again, Feidlimid?"

Silas shook his head. "You fail to see that I'm a different man, Set."

Set straightened his back, gripped his scythe, and snarled: "So be it."

The God of Blood dashed forward, turning his scythe so that the blade was down. Silas pulled the dagger from his boot, gripping it with white knuckles.

Set was too fast. The scythe was driven up into Silas's stomach.

The dagger dropped from his hands, and he slumped to the ground.

When Milo and Adaline opened their eyes, they both had tears on their face.