Daimon
“The war needs to end.Your power alone could change it, could prevent future deaths,” Daimon hissed, unable to stop himself. The night sky was deceptively calm, a stark contrast to the chaos in his mind. “You’re a fucking bastard.”
Nyx laughed, the sound deep and warped. “Technically,you’rethe bastard.”
Daimon squeezed his hands into fists, trying to rein his anger in. He hated Nyx. Hated him for the constant reminder as to what stood between him and Evelina, at the cavern of space that separated her light from his darkness.
“We could use you and that rage of yours,” Nyx said with a heavy sigh—more bored than holding any real emotion. “But Vidaris is patient. As am I.”
She sure as fuck was going to be patient. Daimon didn’t know what exactly the Goddess of Vengeance had planned for him, but he didn’t care to know. Because it was never going to happen.
“The war isn’t over yet,” he snarled.
Nyx watched him closely, quiet for long enough that it made Daimon fight the urge to squirm beneath his scrutiny.
“Do not forget your birthright, Daimon,” he said slowly. “Vidaris is the ruler of the Vale for now, but with her interest inyouas the Lord of Shadows, it could tip the power back in my direction if we play our cards right. I grow bored of watching her rule the Vale.”
Daimon held back a laugh, reminding himself he was in the presence of a god. Nyx had been pushing him to become the Lord of Shadows for years, wanting him to play his part in whatever scheme Nyx had concocted to steal Vidaris’s rule over the Vale.
Nyx had been forced into servitude to Vidaris centuries ago, a vassal to her power. Nyx’s son taking the helm of Lord of Shadows would be an ultimate show of loyalty, perhaps enough cover to finally buy him the freedom to rebuild his power.
Even if Vidaris suspected anything, she remained vulnerable as long as she couldn’t find a being of two worlds—both fae and god—to guard the realm outside the Vale.
Which left Daimon pretty much screwed, wrapped in their webs of power.
“Your power has matured enough for you to take the Shadow Realm.” Nyx tilted his head to the side. “Why delay the inevitable?”
“If it’s inevitable, why rush?”
Nyx chuckled and flung his arms around wide, looking up at the stars above them. “You are the son of agod, while also being the son of a fae woman. To take up the helm as the Lord of Shadows, one must have a foot in both worlds, blood of man and god.”
As far as Daimon knew, there weren’t any others like him. Both son of god and fae, making him halves of each and never quite whole.
“Man will not accept who you are.” Nyx bared his teeth in a smile that looked more like a snarl. “Or have you forgotten how eager men are to burn those who aredifferentat the stake?”
Daimon could never forget it, even if he wanted to. Zephyr whimpered beneath him, feeling his pain.
“Perhaps a reminder would be of use,” Nyx said with a sigh, as if the burden of this responsibility weighed on him. He turned his back to Daimon, waving his hand—the god of dreams himself painting a mirage across the sky. Like looking through a mirror, Daimon watched the memory play out before him.
A woman held her hand to her round belly, her hair as dark as night, falling in wild waves down her back. She sang a broken melody about a boy who would change the fate of fae and man alike.
Daimon took a deep breath, the image of his mother almost too painful to bear. Yet he found himself unable to look away.
The woman sat with her legs folded beneath her, a white cotton nightgown snug on her stomach. She placed short sticks in a ring around an oak tree one by one. After, she took a black-bladed knife and carved symbols into the bark. She hummed her somber tune while completing the steps, not once breaking its pattern.
A leaf crunched behind her and she froze, fingers still wrapped around the blade, the point touching the tree. She briefly closed her eyes, still humming.
“Aurora,” a light, feminine voice said shakily. “Aurora.”
And yet Aurora still carved, eyes closed as she etched the symbols from memory. The footsteps grew closer to her, but she didn’t break stride.
“You’re with child.” The woman’s voice was pleading. “You promised you would stop this madness.”
Aurora sliced the dagger sideways and then again from the opposite side, creating a jagged X in the bark.
The woman crouched down beside Aurora, revealing her face.
Annora—no, Maliena. She looked so much like Annora that Daimon had to take another deep breath. Nyx still had his back to him, his hands folded as he watched the memory.
