The deity who had been sealed for forty years. The name from history texts and old academic papers.
The deity of the Silent Realm, who had existed in stories for so long that finding him on her bed felt less like encountering a person and more like encountering evidence that the universe had reorganized itself while she was in the bath.
The towel left her hands before she told them to release it.
Her face did several things simultaneously.
His gaze raked over her body. Vish swallowed hard and reached for her towel, moving as casually as someone who definitely wasn't standing half-naked in front of a strange man who had just appeared in her room.
"I am not going to hurt or kill you," he said. His voice was heavy and raw, the specific quality of something that had not been used in forty years and was finding its register again.
Vish pulled herself to her full height, which relative to him was not considerable but was what she had available. "How did you get into my room?"
