Alena’s mind whirled, trying to piece together the stories she had learned only last summer. “Are you saying my mother prayed to you?”
“No.” The goddess smiled, though there was a solemnity to it. “She prayed to an ancient goddess, one far greater than the Achaean Twelve, whose power still lingers.”
Alena’s breath quickened. “The Mother Goddess,” she whispered.
The Grey-Eyed Maiden nodded. “She was one of the first gods who gave mortals fire and fields, herds and harvest. The ones who watched your ancestors build the first homes, speak the first names, and draw the first maps.”
Alena followed the Maiden’s gaze east towards the snow-capped mountains. Her bright eyes seemed to look far across the lands, all the way into the Parthian Lands. The air was crisp and cold, biting at her face, and yet the goddess’ presence seemed to envelop her in comforting warmth.
“One day, the Mother Goddess fell in love with a shepherd,” the Maiden continued, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Anything he asked of her, she gave. She loved him so deeply she could not bear to watch him grow old, so she revealed her true name and became the first to Gift a mortal with magic.”
Elishat had told her a version of that story before she’d left the rebel camp to find Phoebe. The Mother Goddess—the first to Gift magic. A legend, yes, but one that had shaped the world as they knew it.
“From then on, the line between mortal and divine was breached.” The Maiden’s expression sobered, and she folded her hands in front of her. “Mortals rushed to temples, making sacrifices in exchange for Gifts. Fearing their growing power, the gods forbade their priests from ever uttering their true names again. Magic became a commodity, and its price was blood. The richest men gained power, carving up the land and drowning it in war.”
It didn’t seem much different now. The Empire still waged war without end, always hungry for more.
Alena swallowed. “And the Mother Goddess? What happened to her?”
“Her lover became consumed by a thirst for power greater than any other. She tried to reclaim the First Gift she had bestowed on him, but it was too late. Wars plagued the land, her temples fell, and worshippers turned away, blaming her for the chaos that ensued. Her magic weakened, and her name was forgotten—but she is not gone yet.”
Alena glanced down at the golden Omega sign etched into her left hand. It pulsed faintly, glinting in the sunlight. “Phoebe and a Parthian friend of mine said I was the Omega. What does that mean exactly?”
“The Omega,” the Maiden replied, “is a formidable warrior chosen by the Mother Goddess to undo what was done—to restore balance between gods and mortals.”
“Undo it… How?”
“By taking back the power she once gave her beloved shepherd—a power now living within his descendant. Just as you did with the Blood Wolf.”
Alena’s mind flashed to that first conversation with Phoebe, when she’d learned Omega warriors were meant to kill a specific person. Her stomach turned. “And his descendant is the Emperor?”
The goddess nodded once.
Alena’s heart pounded in her throat. How was she supposed to face the most powerful man in the world? She’d have to reach Kisra, the capital and his stronghold, and somehow get close enough to see where he was Marked—close enough to touch it.
Blood drained from her face. The sheer enormity of the task made her head spin.
“I just don’t understand,” she whispered. “Why me? Stopping the Emperor… it’s impossible. If the Mother Goddess needed a warrior, she should’ve chosen Katell. Not me.”
The Maiden’s gaze didn’t waver. “Because when your mother made a pact with the goddess, she was pregnant with you, and war was coming. Andrasta didn’t pray at the altar to save her own life. She prayed to save yours.”
The words struck to Alena’s core, tightening her chest. She pictured her mother, alone in a forgotten temple, her belly round with the weight of a future she couldn’t control, whispering desperate prayers into the dark. A queen, terrified not for herself, but for her unborn child.
Tears stung Alena’s eyes, but she bit the inside of her cheek, fighting the rising wave of emotion. Her hands clenched at hersides. Her mother’s sacrifice, the destiny laid upon her, and the daunting task ahead felt like an insurmountable burden.
Yet she had to find the strength to face it—for her mother, for her friends, for herself.
The Grey-Eyed Maiden reached out, brushing her fingers over the golden Omega on Alena’s hand. The Mark pulsed, its faint glow flaring brighter beneath her touch.
“I believe in the Mother Goddess’ purpose—to mend what was broken and restore balance between our realms. I have guided Omega warriors ever since,” she said, her voice calm, as if reading Alena’s thoughts. “And all of them doubted themselves. Doubt is not weakness—it is simply human.”
The wind tugged at the Maiden’s mantle, setting the fabric rippling behind her. Around them, snow-covered peaks loomed in solemn silence as the morning sun cast long shadows over the frost-glittered ridge. Below, the small sanctuary stirred, waking to a new day.
She lowered her hand. “But the magic you carry is no ordinary power. It is ancient, shaped by sacrifice. You may not have your sister’s strength or the Amazons’ training, but you have something greater. You are the Omega. With each Gift you receive, you will grow stronger.”
The words rang like a vow. Alena’s breath clouded in the cold air. Phoebe had spoken of gods who would Gift her, but back then it had felt like myth, not truth.
“However, there is little time.”
