I freeze.
Roxnos.
I have never heard the name before. My brow furrows as I read on.
Roxnos, once a god of twilight and silence, ruled the edges of creation where shadows whispered and stars were born. Few worshipped him. Fewer still remember his name. But in him Phynnera saw not darkness, but balance. They were together for an age, until a great evil tore the heavens apart and their fated bond was broken to protect all realms from ruin.
My original plan forgotten, I flip through the book, searching for any more mention of Roxnos. There are only a few. A tale of him shaping the first shadowborn fae. A whisper of his name etched into ancient stone in a now-lost kingdom.Gravenholme, the page reads.A kingdom swallowed by the flood,where the Vorthari worshippedThe Lord of Secrets.
I slowly sit back, eyes wide.
The Vorthori. Shadowborn fae.
I run my hand over the page, tracing Roxnos’sname—no portraits, no sigils. Only words. Only pieces. Yet, something in my chest stirs. Ineedto know more.
After more hours of poring over the brittle pages, I haven’t found any more information on Roxnos. Who was he? How could someone like Phynnera—someone so radiant—fall for a god of shadows?
I push back my chair, rubbing my temples. I need a break. Space to breathe, to think. I’ll eat first, even if I’m not hungry. Maybe my thoughts will settle.
Dinner is quiet. The dishes barely register to me—steamed vegetables, roasted meat, and a lovely red wine.
Dimitri, lounging with his usual effortless grace, raises a brow at me. “You’re unusually silent tonight.”
I blink out of my haze. “Just tired, I suppose.”
He tilts his head. “Tired…or distracted?”
Ravelle leans forward with excitement. “Is it research? Did you find something?”
I hesitate, then give a small nod. “Not what I was looking for, though. I was looking for mentions of the Veil, but instead, I found something else. Something about Phynnera and a god named Roxnos.”
Dimitri stills. Ravelle frowns. “Roxnos?”
I nod again. “The text calls him the Lord of Secrets.Shadowfae worshipped him. It also said that Roxnos and Phynnera loved each other. I’ve never heard of him, though. Not in any temple teachings or in any of the sacred histories.”
Ravelle’s expression grows thoughtful. “A very old name,” she murmurs. “I once heard a scholar in the southmention it. Only once. He claimed there was a dark fae who used to worship a god of twilight and shadow. Not like demons from Varkahen, but fae, like you. He called them Vorthari. No one took him seriously. I didn’t either.” She shrugs. “It sounded like a myth.”
Dimitri’s gaze meets mine. “We found a temple,” he says, “when Koen and I were looking for the other champions. Just ruins, really. The markings, however, were unlike any I have seen before. I thought it was just some forgotten death god. But it felt ancient. Powerful.”
I sit up straighter. “You think it could’ve been his?”
He shrugs. “It was, but there’s very little left. The gods who fall out of favor tend to fade or get erased.”
I swallow. “Why would Phynnera love a god of shadows?”
“Balance, maybe,” Dimitri says. “Even the brightest light needs a place to rest.”
I stare into my wine, heart heavier than before. A forgotten shadow god and the goddess of light. I want to learn more. I mentally add that to the list of things to research while I am here.
Which reminds me—
“I need to send a message,” I say. “To Alira. I need her and Torin to know I’m safe and to keep covering for me, especially if Koen asks about me. She can tell him I need more time to recover or something.” My voice is soft, but firm. “I don’t want him to know where I am and try to come looking for me. I don’t know that he would, but I would rather not risk it. Also, you can’t use Noctheron’s seal on the letter. Alira andTorin can’t know where I am either.”
Dimitri’s brow lifts. “Ah, so we’re your secret now, are we?”
I shrug. “Uh, yeah. Kind of.”
He smirks. “I’ll send the message. Not a bad idea, actually. Buys you more time here. More space to figure things out.”
