Nyx laughed and shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose that alone doesn’t. If my words are not enough, perhaps a memory will be.”
Daimon’s vision went dark. Though he was still seated atop Zephyr, his eyes now saw a different place entirely.
He saw his mother just as she was depicted in one of Maliena’s paintings. There were flashes of Aurora with Nyx, of them meeting in the forest close to the Zenovia Mountains. She was praying to him when he appeared to her, and she fell at his feet when he spoke.
Memories flew by: Nyx visiting her when she prayed. Then she was in front of a tree, talking of her love for Nyx with her hand on her round belly. Maliena was with her, warning her of the danger that came with worshiping one of the dark gods. The last memory was of her being dragged out of a small cottage while Maliena ran out the back door, cradling a newborn.
Daimon swayed as his vision returned to him, now back in the skies with Nyx watching him. His face was bored, his hands resting in his pockets.
“Why show me this, why now?” Daimon choked out. He couldn’t be Nyx’s son. He was a normal fae, just like everyone else.
“Your inheritance awaits you,” Nyx said. “The Shadow Realm is yours to take. Vidaris grows stronger each day with the war fueling her. She presides over the Vale, torturing the souls ofthe damned. But the in-between, the Shadow Realm, rests with a stronghold in both realms. A foot in the Vale and a foot in the living world. The ruler of it must be able to survive in both, which only someone born of god and man can accomplish.”
Daimon’s throat constricted with each word. He couldn’t breathe—couldn’t wrap his mind around his new reality, let alone the idea of ruling the Shadow Realm one day.
“Think on it,” Nyx said, breaking Daimon out of his thoughts. “You’ll be the heir of darkness soon. It would be best to take up the helm before others learn the truth of who you are.”
Nyx disappeared into the shadows, leaving a cold wind in his wake.
Daimon’s head spun. If Nyx was telling the truth, Daimon wasn’t just the son of a god… He was the son of adarkgod. The dark gods were not welcome among fae.
Perhaps if he raised his station high enough, no one would hold it against him if they learned the truth about him. If he could garner the respect of the people and prove himself worthy of Evelina in the eyes of the crown, then that would solve all of his problems. People would know he wasn’t who his father was—they would see past his bloodline.
But deep down, he knew the truth. People would try and kill him for it just as they had his mother—they would be terrified of a dark god’s heir. They burned his mother alive just after giving birth for what she had done with Nyx. The effects of people knowing would ruin his life, or that of anyone close to him.
And if he were to go back to Evelina…
Shame washed over him, consuming every inch of his being. What if there was darkness in him? There could be a chance of corrupting her, of whatever pieces of Nyx that resided in him somehow hurting her.
That was when he knew he couldn’t go back to her, even to visit. He couldn’t risk her life, her people turning on her themoment they found out she knew about him all along. Nor could he risk his weakness in breaking down and telling her everything, which he would do with a single look at her bright hazel eyes.
So he didn’t go back. Again and again, his shame of himself and his fear for her won out.
Years passed.
In all that time, he kept hoping for a day he could change his fate, when he would finally return to her and prove he was worthy of her hand.
He passed his trial, the harvest moon bright in the sky as he sealed his immortality beneath it. He and his training cohort met in a small temple outside a cluster of villages, a single priestess presiding over the trial.
Daimon’s trial was odd, the stories of his peers not aligning with his. They all spoke of three separate parts: mind, body, and spirit. His, on the other hand… It was composed of a single thing: slaying a dragon with three heads.
He thought it was strange that his experience was so different, but then again, the trial was specific to the fae taking it. Instead of dwelling on it, he chalked it up to how he had always been the odd one out his whole life.
His days shifted from beingtoo youngto do any real training to learning how to fly with other Riders. More and more he got invited to fly with some of the best, Commander Keir even joining some days. Zephyr seemed to fit seamlessly into their flight, teaching Daimon more than Daimon could teach her.
After that, Commander Keir told him he would be joining the main aerial unit—the Alpha Fleet. It was everything he had worked for, a real chance at making a difference in this war.
However, even that wasn’t enough for Daimon. He set his sights on being commander. After a few more years of sweat and tears, he secured that position too. He wasalmostthe man he wanted to prove he could be.
But Nyx returned again and again with the reminder of Daimon’s heritage, and each success felt more like a lie. He had always hoped a day would come when hefinallyfelt like he was worthy of Evelina. Over the years, that hope faded like fire being snuffed out by rain. The work, the titles, the training—none of it changed his blood.
Nyx was right. He would only serve to hurt her.
He was so close to being the man he fought so hard to become, only to question now if he deserved to be that man at all.
Eighteen
Daimon
