SELENE
Eighteen days later
The worn cobblestone streets of the capital city are empty. Rain falls gently from the sky, water coursing through the mortar from the earlier deluge. Lanterns hanging from the doorways of homes are the only light, the moon dark and hidden from view. Constellations decorate the sky, the pale outlines of a wolf and an owl, sigils of the gods I’d sooner forget.
The scrap of worn parchment in my hand crinkles as I check it once more.
213 Regent Row, Amale
The scrawled writing matches the brass numbers that adorn the weathered door in front of me. I raise my fist and knock on the door, barely recognizing my skin. The glow of my immortal body has been traded for the pale, lifeless complexion of a mortal. The infinite power of a god diminished until I can do nothing but wield a trio of elements.
The loss of magic has been the hardest part of exile, for both myself and the tiny goddess inside me— that and the parting gift from her father. For days, I hid in the confines of an abandoned home, struggling to breathe in this realm.
The boy prince never left my side, seemingly unaffected by the change. While my body morphed and adapted to the limits of my new existence, the child clung to my side, never straying from the fate growing in my womb.
I knock again, this time with urgency as the child hidden under my brown cloak squeezes my leg tightly. The Goddess of Truth opens the door, her raven hair and violet eyes sparkling in the lantern light.
“Taura,” I say in a hushed voice.
“Where is he?” she asks, motioning for us to enter.
The Prince of the Gods peeks out from underneath my cloak. He looks up at me, silver eyes locking onto my golden gaze in permission. I nod once, reassuring him of our safety here.
“Very good,” the Goddess of Truth says. “Rhea, come meet your son.”
A mortal woman with honey hair and a gentle smile drops to her knees slowly in front of the child, her own baby still attached to her breast.
“Hello there, little one.” The soothing cadence of her voice draws the prince from hiding. “It’s okay. I am a friend.”
He takes tentative steps towards her, his eyes filled with curiosity. His small hands reach toward the baby in her arms, gently caressing its blonde hair.
“This is your brother. And so is he.” The woman points to another child.
A boy, only a year or two older than the prince, stands in the corner. His hair is brown, a perfect match to the roughspun clothing of this country’s commonfolk, but his eyes match those of his mother. Amber irises full of warmth and an innate kindness.
The child steps closer to them, carefully examining the onyx-haired boy.
“What’s his name?” His small voice squeaks out.
“His true name cannot be spoken in this realm,” Taura cautions quickly. “His father cannot know he is here until he’s strong enough to face him.”
“Callan.” My hand drifts to my belly and his fated princess inside. “She called him Callan in your vision, Taura.”
“Callan,” Rhea repeats. “Do you like it?” She brushes the hair from his face as the prince smiles. “Yes, I think that will suit you just fine, Cal.”
“Cal,” the young boy says, taking the prince’s hand into his. “Brother.”
Rhea wraps the children in her arms as Taura takes my hand and leads me out of the door and onto the cobblestone streets. We leave the family of four, granting them the privacy to adapt to their new circumstances.
“He’ll thrive here, Selene.” The Goddess of Truth’s irises shift from blue to purple and back again. “Tell me about the letter from your sisters.”
“It seems Nina misheard everything we told her and has spread the news thatan heir will lead us back home,” I say with a sigh. “So off they’ve all gone to create their own heirs.”
“This land is ripe with men eager to solidify their power.”
“Power.” I scoff. “What do they know about power?”
“What is power if not control?” Truth falls from the goddess’ lips. “They don’t have magic, but they have influence and money and armies that serve them.”
