There was only one enemy that could have forced her hand: Maezharr. He must have returned. No matter. I had defeated him once; I would do so again, and this time I would finish him.
My gaze moved to Roweena. To the hand by her belly. Our child. The child that shouldn't be.
The weight in Asharat's gaze deepened. He inclined his head slightly, as if he had expected this, as if he had been preparing for this conversation since the moment Vaelora set her plan in motion. "I wish I could tell you everything, High Warlord, but I was never meant to know all of her secrets."
My fists clenched. "Then tell me what you do know."
Asharat exhaled slowly. "I know that she saw what was coming. She saw him."
A cold whisper of recognition curled in my gut.
"Maezharr." The name left my lips like a curse.
Asharat shook his head. "Not Maezharr. Not anymore."
I stilled and waited for him to elaborate. Asharat's dark gaze flickered toward Roweena before settling back on me. "He calls himself Malzhaedon now."
The name tasted like bile, like something foul. Like it had been burned into existence by darkness itself. Roweena shuddered beside me, and her breath hitched. She felt it too.
I exhaled slowly. "Tell me everything."
"Maezharr was always dangerous," Asharat began, his voice low and even. "You defeated him once, Vardor. And you will do so again."
I narrowed my eyes, the memories of those battles still sharp in my mind, but Asharat's tone told me this was not just the same enemy returning. "He should have died," I growled. "But the bastard fled, burrowing himself deep into the sand."
"You did the best you could," Asharat assured me, "But Malzhaedon was more cunning than even Vaelora could foresee.
"He fell into the abyss," Asharat continued. "Not to the underworld you knew. Something deeper. Older. Hungrier. And there, he changed."
Malzhaedon.
A name reshaped in fire and ruin. A god who had become something else. Something even more powerful. Something to be feared. Something that would bring death and destruction.
"Vaelora saw it," Asharat said. "She had a vision of what would come. She saw how, over the next centuries, his power would grow in the shadows. How the faith of mortals, twisted by desperation and fear, would give him strength. How he would rise again—not as a man, not even as a god, but as a force beyond either."
I held his gaze, my pulse steady. "You're telling me he has become the devil."
Asharat's lips pressed into a thin line. "I'm telling you he has become something worse."
"The world above does not know what is coming," Asharat said. "They have forgotten the old battles, the wars between gods and men. They live in their peace, believing the worst is behind them."
He exhaled sharply. "But Vaelora knew better."
Roweena had gone silent beside me, her gaze locked onto Asharat. She looked… serene.
"She saw what Malzhaedon would do," Asharat continued. "How he would unleash the creatures of hell on an unsuspecting world. How he would bend the very fabric of existence to his will, corrupting the balance between life and death, turning the earth into a realm of chaos."
Dread filled me. "She saw the world fall."
"Yes," Asharat said grimly. "And she knew that even if she awakened you, your power alone would not be enough to stop it. That's why she needed you."
My jaw tightened. "She needed me for battle."
"She needed you for more than that."
Asharat's gaze flickered to Roweena's stomach, and I went still. He knew. That meant Vaelora had known as well.
Roweena's breath hitched sharply. Her hand drifted to her belly, her fingers caressing the precious life growing inside her.
