Zadione was glad of that now. Nothing held power quite like a diamond.
She brushed a stray lock of black hair from his forehead. Her gaze passed over him one last time: his handsome, youthful face; his full lips; the strong column of his throat.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered into the cool night air, the silver light of her moon enveloping her in a sweet embrace.
Her chest cracked, hollowness pouring in, as she pressed the ring to Kol’s heart.
The seven godscircled the glowing forge, staring at the object still cooling in its center.
“How certain are we that it worked?” Krilene shifted, blonde hair swaying across her back.
“As certain as we can be, my love.” Krilene’s Consort, Ydros, brushed a lock of her hair back with a sweep of his hand.
It took everything in Zadione to stifle her eye roll.
Ydros was too passive. Maybe even fearful. He knew Kol’s actions were wrong, yet he refused to take a stand. Even when his precious Krilene fought tooth and nail to keep this world from oppression, Ydros couldn’t find it in himself to do the same.
“I think the only way any of us will know is if we try to use it.” Rulene cocked her head. “And I do not think that is wise.”
“Why not? Why not be absolutely sure that it works?” Priam leaned forward, the glint in his eye a little too eager.
“If you are trying to get rid of me again, Priam, it will not work,” Zadione whispered softly, voice like murmured death. “We would not even be here without my help, remember?”
Priam’s lip lifted in a sneer. “We would not be here at all if it were not for you?—”
“Enough.”
Qhohena lifted a golden hand, exhaustion heavy in her shimmering eyes. Zadione wondered when her sister had last slept, when she’d found time to recuperate.
If she had at all.
“We will not be trying it. We will simply have to hold faith that the ritual was successful. And besides”—she paused, glancing around, meeting each of their stares— “no one can remember what we have done here. Not even ourselves.”
The silence hammered like thunder amongst the gathered gods.
“Golden,” Priam said slowly, his nickname for Qhohena prickling at Zadione’s skin. “What do you mean, not even ourselves?”
“I mean,” she said, meeting her Consort’s gaze, “that we must cast one final spell.” Qhohena and the rest of them stared at the object lying in the forge.
A cold chill swept over Zadione, a deadly whisper of fate. She shrugged it off.
She had made an unforgivable sacrifice tonight. More would be required in the future—not only from her, but from those who would one day see this plan to fruition. It would all be worth it to bring an end to this darkness and a hope for light in the future.
So together, the seven gods joined hands and wove their magic one last time.
The War ended a generation ago, but rumors about the gods abound. Those whose parents fought beside them whisper that perhaps they are not as immortal as believed, however, no study has been done to confirm their accuracy.
Some such rumors go so far as to speak of a way to kill a god, though this researcher questions why one would even desire such a thing. To kill a god would mean to lose their domain. How would we survive without our earth, our skies, our seas, or worse…our moons?
- Text from an untitled journal penned by Vathan historian Aristeo Tassinari. Date unknown.
Chapter 1
Andrian Laurent’s reflection looked back at him with a dark, rueful smirk.
So much was painfully familiar: the black hair, the high cheekbones, the purple-blue eyes. A face he’d thought was so like his mother’s—a woman who’d been sweet and kind and gentle. A woman incapable of making a birth pact with a fallen sun god.
Andrian truly shouldn’t have been surprised.
