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“Hypnos!”

The darkness answers.

Come and claim her.

I look down at the woman lying motionless against my chest.

The woman who taught me what warmth feels like.

Who taught me to laugh.

Who taught me to love.

I press my forehead against hers.

“Hold on, darling.”

My voice breaks.

“For once in your stubborn little life, do as I ask.”

She doesn’t stir.

And for the first time in three thousand years, I understand exactly what my father has taken from me.

Not my power.

Not my freedom.

Something infinitely worse.

My entire world.

Chapter 8

Morpheus

For three thousand years, I’ve imagined killing my father.

I’ve dreamed of tearing apart his kingdom, stripping him of his powers, and making him beg for the mercy he never showed me.

But as I kneel beside Calla’s bed, watching her chest rise and fall beneath the sheets, I discover something far more terrifying than my father’s wrath.

Fear.

Not for myself.

For her.

There are few things in existence capable of frightening a god.

The destruction of his temple.

The loss of his worshippers.

The wrath of a more powerful immortal.

I’ve endured all three.