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

I threaded my fingers through his. His skin was cold. It had been cold since the day they carved out his grace and left him to rot in the void between worlds.

But the texts never mentioned this—the way his hand trembled when I reached for it. The way his divine fire banked low, afraid to burn me. The way he said my mortal name like it was the only prayer left in his hollow chest.

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.

It was an awful sound. Broken. Beautiful. The sound of a ruin learning to stand again. When he takes -Fallen god 2- - Gabrielle Sands

Valdís went utterly still.

Instead, I watched him kneel among the ruins of the celestial court, his massive wings—once white, now the color of bruised storm clouds—folded tight against his back. The other gods had fled. The mortal army had scattered. Only the two of us remained in the great hall, surrounded by fallen pillars and the soft, terrible sound of ash drifting through broken windows.

“To speak.” I stepped closer, my bare feet pressing into cold marble stained with divine blood. “And I’m telling you now—you don’t get to fall alone.” I threaded my fingers through his

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.

“I am still a monster,” he said against my pulse.

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. But the texts never mentioned this—the way his

The moment the chains fell from my wrists, I knew he was lying.

“Then devour,” I whispered. “But you’d better leave room for me to devour you back.”

“You should hate me,” he said. Not looking at me. Looking at the altar where they’d once bound him for a thousand years.