When He Takes -fallen God 2- - Gabrielle Sands -

“I took everything from you,” he reminded me. His voice scraped the air like stone on stone. “Your kingdom. Your family. Your mortal name.”

“You should hate me,” he said. Not looking at me. Looking at the altar where they’d once bound him for a thousand years. When he takes -Fallen god 2- - Gabrielle Sands

In the silence, I remembered what the old texts said about the Fallen God’s curse. That he would destroy whatever he loved most. That his touch was ruin. That his heart beat only to break the world. “I took everything from you,” he reminded me

He finally turned. His eyes—one silver, one gold—held the weight of every god he’d devoured, every realm he’d unmade. But beneath that ancient hunger, something else flickered. Something that looked almost like fear. Your family

“You left me my breath.”

Not with words—Valdís, the Fallen God of Ruin, never lied with words. He lied with silences. With the way his scarred fingers paused before touching my skin. With the way he said “run” like a prayer rather than a command.

Not of his enemies.