But now, with Sunnëva’s quiet truth twisting in his mind, something else rose like smoke. The future he’d seen in the Scry Mirror.
His death.
And Rune realized, with a cold certainty, that he may have brought about his own demise.
“Elyon can seal the tear,” Rune growled, his claws clutching the jar. “He is a Primordial, the creator of the Realms and all living things. He would never allow Vorak to break free.”
“It can be done but not without cost,” Sunnëva said. She met his gaze with no judgement, no anger but sorrow. “The scales must be balanced.”
His blood turned to ice.
“A soul for a soul.”
For a moment, he lost the ability to breathe.
“It is out of my hands, Rune.” The Goddess of Death retreated into the night, walking backward. Her eyes glowed vivid blue. “A Primordial may perhaps prevent a Rift from spreading, but only a powerful soul can become the Soul Anchor to bind it.”
He already knew which one she meant, and the knowledge tasted like ash.
“No.”
“Alora is our hope for balance. Without her, the Realms will be no more.”
He snarled, shadows lashing around him. “You are asking me to sacrifice my wife!”
To bind Alora within the Rift.
For all eternity.
Frost drifted through the air with Sunnëva’s sigh. “I did warn you not to break Divine Law. Your sins will extract a great price.”
Rune shook his head, the world caving in on him, the air thinning.
Never.
“I would sooner see the Realms burn.”
A faint smirk hovered on Sunnëva’s lips. “I know.”
Because no one else knew him better than she did.
“Hold her close, Rune,” Sunnëva said, fading into mist and snow. “For when the Blood Moon falls, Vorak will rise.”
And he comes for her.
CHAPTER 49
Alora
For a moment, Alora didn’t recognize where she was. The heavy, velvet curtains were drawn against the morning. A fire in the corner hearth burned low, casting a soft orange glow that flickered across the polished floor of a bedroom she didn’t recognize.
But she relaxed when finding herself held in Rune’s arms. He was stretched out on the large bed beside her, shadows clinging to his silhouette like he’d been shaped from the night.
His faraway gaze was fixed on the fire with a tense, pensive expression. Those crimson irises were unusually dimmed either from exhaustion or the heavy thoughts weighing on his mind.
“Rune…” she called softly. “Do you not sleep at all?”
His eyes flicked to hers and he smiled faintly. “You did. That is all I care about. How are you feeling?”
