‘The Sun God,’ Kai said.
‘Indeed,’ the king replied, sipping from his cup. ‘So then, could it be that this divine being, this singular god is gently ushering us along a path? One we cannot yet see, but which has already been chosen?’
‘Why?’ Alina asked, her voice soft with intrigue.
‘Perhaps because this god knows what we do not,’ he answered, pausing to clear his throat. Then, with a lighter tone, ‘But forgive me, I mustn’t overwhelm you with the ramblings of an old man. My daughter also tells me there’s a group of dragons camped beyond my walls.’
‘They are mine,’ Alina said, tempering her voice to mask its edge. ‘I don’t intend to remain long. I’ve come to learn how the Phanax fight. The Dunayans in the Desert Kingdom have been corrupted. I intend to stop them.’
‘Mm,’ murmured the king, his voice steeped in thought. ‘I daresay we are all tainted, each in our own way, depending, of course, upon the vantage point from which we gaze. To us, the witches are the villains, agents of chaos to be extinguished. But if one were to stand in their ranks… well, then perhaps we are the monsters lurking in their tale.’
‘The witches are destroying my kingdom,’ Alina said, her voice low and taut.
‘And we destroyed theirs,’ the king countered softly. ‘So tell me, who among us wears the crown of righteousness? Who plays the villain’s part? Is it us, for casting the first stone? Or is it them, for refusing to forgive, mirroring the violence that once befell them?’ He gave a light shrug. ‘As with all legends, Alina Acheron, it is the victors who carve truth into stone. When this war ends, whoever stands amidst the ashes will decide who was the hero… and who was the scourge.’
He reached across the table, hands searching with careful grace until they found a cluster of grapes. He plucked one and popped it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. ‘Still, whatever fate awaits, I would like to believe my people shall be remembered as heroes, not villains.’
‘What does that mean?’ Alina asked, brows furrowed. ‘You just admitted that history bends to the victor’s will.’
‘Precisely,’ the king replied, the ghost of a smile playing upon his lips. ‘And as of now, none of us can say with certainty who that victor shall be. Which is why I will not act in haste.’
‘So you will not help us.’
‘Are you asking for help?’
Alina’s teeth clenched. ‘They will come here sooner than you think.’
‘Perhaps,’ the king said, retrieving another grape with idle ease. ‘And when that moment arrives, we shall decide how best to meet it.’
Fury coiled in Alina’s belly like a serpent, rising with each breath. She leaned forward, voice ready to strike, but Kai’s steady hand on her elbow stilled her. She relented, sinking back into her seat, her lip caught between her teeth in frustration.Across the table, Mareena met her eyes—silent, watching, knowing.
‘They murdered your son,’ Kai said quietly, the words falling like stones upon the silence.
‘They did,’ the king replied, his voice laced with sorrow. ‘But vengeance, dear prince, is the very poison that led us here. I will not sip from that same chalice. I loved my son dearly, with all that I am, but I shall not lead my people into slaughter for the sake of a ghost.’
‘But—’ Alina began, only for her words to be cut short.
‘You will come to understand, in time, that we as individuals are but fleeting brush strokes in the vast tapestry of history, Alina Acheron,’ the king said, his tone gentle, yet firm. ‘We are not the ones remembered. Not if our entire kind is swept into oblivion.’
‘Which is precisely what will happen if we do not stop the witches.’
‘Perhaps,’ he murmured, reclining ever so slightly. ‘But my Seers speak of something far more harrowing.’
‘More dangerous than the witches?’ Kai asked, his brow furrowing.
The king nodded gravely. ‘Something corrupted and ancient, an entity drenched in shadows, foretold to bring about the ruin of all that lives.’
Alina’s frown deepened. ‘What is it?’
The king’s fingers tapped an uneasy rhythm against the carved stone of the table. His gaze, though dulled by blindness, seemed to pierce straight through to some distant memory. ‘It goes by many names in our oldest tales. But always, it is a child. A child cursed by the heavens themselves. Known in whispers as the Cursed One. The God-Killer. The Destroyer of Worlds.’
Both Isla and Arena gasped from across the table, theireyes wide with recognition, clearly familiar with the tales being spoken. In near-unison, they raised their hands in instinctive motion, tracing symbols born of their homelands—gestures Alina had seen before, used by desert wanderers to ward off the ghulas that prowled the dunes like shadows come alive.
A shiver traced Alina’s spine. She had never heard such a prophecy spoken aloud, but her mother’s words echoed once more in her mind. That Ash was the chosen one, destined to save them all. While Mal Blackburn… was cursed.
Her shoulders stiffened with sudden tension. She looked to Kai, searching his face for any recognition, any sign that he, too, had heard such a tale.
‘And this… God-Killer,’ Alina said cautiously, choosing her words with care. ‘Do you know who they are? Or where they might be?’
