Another silence.
“You see what he has become, yet you do nothing to stop it,” Val-Theris said.
“I have seen what heis,” Val-Or replied. “And what you will be forced to do. Tis not my place to interfere. I no longer have such power.” Val-Theris’s wings shuddered faintly. Val-Or’s light dimmed further. “You will kill him, and he will return to me to face his judgement.”
Val-Theris closed his eyes. “I have already seen that,” he said quietly.
“Not as clearly as you think.”
Val-Theris opened his eyes again. “Then tell me,please,” he begged. “For once, help me understand what I see.”
Val-Or’s form shifted, and suddenly the heavens around them changed.
Val-Theris saw Seraveth—not as it was, but as it would be. Walls fractured. Gold blackened by smoke. Banners torn and trampled beneath fleeing bodies. He saw wings folded in grief at the center of it all.
And he saw Jesenia kneeling amid ruin with a full womb, crying. His breath caught.
“You know what she carries,” Val-Theris said gently.
“I do. She carries life shaped from both of you,” Val-Or continued. “God and mortal, a union I never saw.”
“But I don’t understand. Val-Oros?—”
“Has not the capacity to love as a father should love. The Light can see what is in your hearts, and it has blessed you as it will never bless him.”
Val-Theris stepped forward instinctively. “Then tell me how to protect them after I’m gone.”
Val-Or did not move. “After you’re gone,” he repeated quietly. Then, he simply said: “I cannot.”
Anger flickered in Val-Theris’s eyes. “Do not tell me you brought me here simply to explain my suffering instead of easing it. After all these years of me begging for your guidance, that is what you give me?”
“Yes.”
Val-Theris straightened, wings flaring just enough to catch the light. “Then tell me this: does she truly undo my kingdom as Val-Oros saw?”
Val-Or regarded him for a long moment.
“She does not undo it,” he said at last.
Val-Theris closed his eyes again with relief. “Then what of my death? Is there nothing I can do? Must her and I truly suffer through this knowing our child will one day be fatherless?”
“Death will come for your family,” Val-Or confirmed. “It is known. It is final.”
“Can I know how long I have left? Will I get to hold my child?”
Val-Or thought for a while, as if debating if that knowledge would throw off the balance of the universe.
“I will only answer one of those questions. You must determine which is more important to you.”
Val-Theris took a deep breath. “Please, tell me I get to hold my child at least once.”
Val-Or went quiet again, before he solemnly said: “No.”
A shudder wrecked through Val-Theris’s body, and tears escaped his eyes. “Is the Light really so cruel?” he asked through a sob.
The heavens began to dissolve.
“Wait! Father,” Val-Theris said quickly. “I have more questions. Please.”
