Older. Steadier. Terrible in the way only the divine could be.
“Daughter of the woven blood,” said one, a voice like cracked stone and rain. “She rises.”
“Seven days remain,” murmured another, her words like the soft lap of a riverbank. “Then the goddess will try to unmake your world.”
“Her hatred has blinded her, we tried to chain it but failed.”
Shapes coalesced before her, the four gods who had forged her fate in defiance of one of their own. They did not appear in flesh, but as fragments of essence: a flicker of stormlight, a plume of shadowed fire, a silvered river current, and a moon-eyed owl perched atop the air itself.
“You must find the sword, the godkiller.” they said in unison.
“It lies in the borderlands of your continent, where the Veil frays but has not yet split. She buried it in fear. Hid it to keep you from the final piece needed for her demise.”
Maris tried to speak, but her voice was stolen. Her limbs frozen.
“With your sigil bound to its blade, you will have one chance. One strike to break her flesh. It will not kill her, only unmake her power long enough for you to end her in mortal form.”
“We will aid you through battle. But we are bound. We cannot kill our own, we can only keep the terrors at bay.”
Then the owl’s eyes flared, silver stars burning white-hot.
“This is why we made you.”
The sky shattered.
-Kael-
He didn’t remember crossing the threshold.
One moment he was pacing the hall outside her chamber door, unable to sleep, unable to think and the next, he was kneeling beside her bed, her name a sharp whisper on his lips.
“Maris.”
She was thrashing beneath the sheets, breath caught in her throat like she was drowning. Sweat beaded on her brow. Her lips parted in a silent cry, and her fists clenched at the blankets as though resisting something unseen.
“Maris,” he said again, louder now. “You need to wake up.”
His hands found her shoulders, firm but careful, and the second he touched her, her body stilled.
Her eyes flew open, wild and glowing faintly, like starlight flickering through frost. Her breath shuddered.
“Kael,” she gasped, voice raw.
He nodded, not trusting his voice.
She sat up so fast he had to catch her by the elbows, grounding her. “They spoke to me,” she said, already reaching for his wrist, anchoring herself. “Not Eiren. The others. The four gods.”
His blood ran cold. “What did they say?”
Her eyes searched his, frantic, as if she were still waking from the vision. “It wasn’t like before. Not memory, not some riddle or symbol. A warning.”
She swallowed hard, voice trembling. “Eiren will come in seven days. Six as of morning.”
Kael didn’t speak. He didn’t breathe.
“There’s a sword,” she continued. “One the gods forged. Meant for me. It’s hidden in the borderlands. Eiren tried to erase it, to weaken me. But if I find it… and I bind it with my sigil…” Her gaze drifted, haunted. “They said it can sever her power. Long enough for me to kill her.”
She shook her head, as if trying to shake the weight off her shoulders. “They said they can’t kill their own. Only I can.”
