But when he reached for her again, she didn’t move. She stood trembling, her hand pressed to her stomach, and Jesenia realized that the man she loved was vanishing beneath his fear—and the child she carried would be born into a kingdom drenched in blood.
TWENTY-NINE
With Jesenia distraughtat his actions, Val-Theris thought it best to give her space to breathe. For all the lengths he would go to keep her safe, he never wanted to upset her by doing so.
He found himself once again in the Hall of Radiance before the carving of Val-Or. It had been months since he had last spoken to his father, or at least tried to.
Val-Theris took a deep, exhausted breath. “I need you,” he begged to the carving. When there was no answer, his mouth twitched into a scowl, and his fist met the stone with a resonating crack.
The moment his fist collided with the wall, a blinding flash of light broke free from the fractures. When his vision focused once more, he was surrounded by…nothing.
There was no pain like his prophetic visions, and his mind felt clear.
He stood barefoot in a himation. Upon his exposed chest, a marking in the shape of a sun blazed from under his skin. He was in a plane of pale light that stretched endlessly in all directions, neither warm nor cold, neither solid nor void. Above him, the heavens unfolded in layered expanse—veils ofluminosity drifting like slow-moving clouds, threaded with faint constellations that did not belong to any sky he knew.
Val-Theris did not move.
“You have come,” a voice said. It existed everywhere at once, folded into the light itself. Val-Theris searched for the speaker, but he saw nothing at first.
Then, the light ahead of him gathered, condensing into form—not flesh, not quite, but the suggestion of it. Wings took shape first: one of gilded feathers, one of brilliant flame. Then the suggestion of a body, tall and indistinct, robed in brilliance that shifted as though refusing to settle.
Val-Theris kneeled with unwavering respect for the man before him.
“Father.”
“You honor me still,” Val-Or said. “Even after all this time.” If he smiled, it was only a soft alteration in the light. “You have not changed, my son.”
Val-Theris felt the enormity of the place press against his wings, against the years of questions he had carried without answers.
“Why did you bring me here?” he finally asked. It was quiet for a moment, and then Val-Or spoke once more.
“Will you not look at me?”
Val-Theris lifted his head, and the light dimmed slightly, allowing him to look upon his father in…he didn’t even know how long. Maybe the first time ever, for he had no clear memories of him. When his gaze settled, he noticed a thick tie of cloth across Val-Or’s eyes.
Val-Theris furrowed his brow in confusion. “Father?—”
“It is why I gave my sons the gift of prophecy,” he answered without needing to hear the question. “For I ruled blindly. I tried to be a benevolent god, but I could not see where my choiceswould lead. When the world began to resist my Light, I gave it my sons, to see where I had been blind.”
Val-Theris folded his wings closer to his back and finally stood. “You gave the burden to us.”
“I gave yousight,” Val-Or replied. “Sight is not a burden, Val-Theris. It is a tool. One I hoped would allow you to succeed where I could not.”
“And Val-Oros?” Val-Theris asked.
“He was given a narrower gift,” his father said. “He sees whattouchesfate. You see whatfollowsit.”
Val-Theris exhaled slowly. “And which of us did you intend to rule better? If Val-Oros is your answer, then he is your greatest failure.”
Val-Or did not answer immediately. “When I created you,” he said at last, “I did not intend either of you to rule above one another, but together. You were meant tobalance,” Val-Or continued. “Two opposing truths. Flame and mercy. Consequence and restraint. I believed the world could survive my absence if the two of you held it together.”
Val-Theris’s jaw tightened. “Instead, he rules with terror.”
“Yes.”
“And I rule with hesitation.”
“Yes.”
