My stomach twists as Riven curses under his breath. His eyes swirl, both colors fighting for dominance.
Amick’s voice lowers.
“The Beginning Gods do not merely control the system. They feed from it. Let it be—”
He falls silent, staring down in disbelief.
“What? Keep fucking going,” Riven shouts.
Amick spares him a small glance, surprisingly softer than I expected.
“Harriseen recorded this,” he says. We all flinch like he just spoke a different language. He carries on before any of us can question him. “Let it be recorded that the Veilatara did not yield willingly. When first approached by the Beginning Gods, they refused the bindings. Not out of defiance alone, but of understanding. For they perceived what the gods would not name. To restrain the flow was not to preserve the realm…but to alter its nature.”
A chill crawls down my spine as he swallows roughly.
“The Veilatara stood as equals in that moment. Not beneath the gods, or above them, but beside them. Their voices carried warning. The Beginning Gods, having already felt the absence of abundance, would not acknowledge the threat being foretold.”
He pauses, letting his gaze shift to Riven’s for a moment long enough that my soul twitches in my chest.
“Thus, the accord was not formed in unity but in fracture. Among the Veilatara and the Beginning Gods. Terms were given, not agreed upon. Submit to restraint and serve the preservation of this realm as we define it or be struck from it and let your kind’s purpose fade into nothing. Some bent, choosing existenceover extinction. Some resisted and were unmade for it. Their fall marked the first true break within the realm.”
“No,” I whisper.
“The strappings themselves were wrought not of simple forge, but of convergence. Four divine signatures bound willingly, three of stolen essence. All molded into one working restraint. It was completed not as a gift, nor as protection, but as a cage disguised as necessity. Once bound, the Veilatara were confined to the divine region, their movement restricted, their dispersal of power suppressed. Where once their bonds blossomed, now they stay trapped in the soul. Where once they carried the will of the realm, now they carry the will of the Beginning Gods.”
Silence presses in from all sides, and Amick doesn’t turn the page. For a long moment, he just…stares at it. His jaw clenches and he shakes his head.
“No,” he mutters under his breath.
Sharp apprehension curls in my soul, and I rub my chest, attempting to ease the pain.
“Amick,” Riven warns.
He exhales slowly, like he’s bracing himself.
“Let it be known that the binding of the Veilatara cannot be undone by decree nor by the will of the Beginning Gods divided.”
My heart stutters as his eyes flick up. Straight to mine.
Something cold slides down my spine.
“Only when the seven powers are brought—”
“No.”
The word leaves me before I even realize I’m speaking. I slowly stand from my seat and lean forward.
“Into true alignment—”
“Don’t you dare say it,” I snap, banging my fist on the table. “Amick, please, don’t say it.”
His knuckles whiten, but his eyes soften for a millisecond as they flick to mine, then back to the words.
“Will the restraint crumble, the binding be broken, and the flow be restored.”
My pulse pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat, my temples, my ears. Every-fucking-where.
“No!”
