"She needs your sons," Asharat said quietly. "The world will not survive what is coming with mortals alone. Vaelora knew this. She knew the only ones who could stand against Malzhaedon's armies would be those who carried the blood of both gods and men. Demigods."
My chest tightened, and something cold and unfamiliar slithered into my ribs. Because suddenly, I understood. Vaelora hadn't awakened me because she missed and loved me. She needed me. She needed more of me.
Roweena swallowed hard, her voice unsteady. "But... goddesses can't create life."
Asharat nodded, his gaze steady. "No. They can't."
A thick and suffocating silence settled between us.
"Then how is this possible?" she whispered, her other hand pressing over mine. Neither of us had the answer. But I felt the shift, the truth threading into me even as I tried to resist it. Vaelora's vision had not been of herself. It had been of Roweena. A goddess who had given up everything to be reborn as a mortal. To bear what Vaelora never could.
Asharat inclined his head slightly. "She chose this path, Roweena. She chose you."
Roweena's fingers curled against my palm. I could feel her pulse—fast, uneven. Fear rose in her eyes, but there was something else, something that frightened me: acceptance.
"What do I need to do?" Roweena turned to Asharat.
"Lay down on the altar. She set everything in motion before she left." He instructed.
"No." I roared.
She turned to me, eyes wide, uncertainty flickering beneath her resolve.
"You know this needs to be done, Vardor." Her voice trembled. She wasn't sure about this either. She needed me to protect her. But from what? Vaelora? Me? I didn't know, I just didn't know anymore.
Once again, Vaelora's words came back to me.I'll never forgive you, Vardor, but I will give you one more chance to prove yourself. One more! And if you fail, this entire world will pay the price for your failure.
I had spent ten thousand years locked in silence, dreaming of the moment I would see her again, of what I would say to her if she ever woke me. But now I understood. It was never about what I wanted. It was never about me. I looked at Roweena—the woman who saved me when I was drowning in a life I had not asked for. The woman who touched me with kindness, withlaughter, with something softer than war and duty. She had become my home in a way nothing else ever had.
My gaze moved to the altar—the path set long before I was ever meant to walk it. Vaelora's path. She had accused me of not trusting her. Of choosingforher. Of caging her in the name of love. Had she known that this moment would come? That I would be forced to choose between Roweena and her? Between the woman I loved and the goddess who had loved me as best she could?
I thought of our child. I thought of what it meant to have something gods were never meant to have. If I ran with Roweena, I could have everything I never thought I wanted. We could flee this place, flee fate itself. I could watch her carry our child. Watch her grow old beside me, live a mortal life I had never thought to crave again. I could be there when our sons were born—watch them grow, laugh, fight, love.
And then I would watch them die.
Because even if we survived, even if we fled Malzhaedon's grasp, time would not be kind to them. Roweena would fade. Our children would wither. Only I would remain. Alone. For eternity.
Or I could let her ascend.
I could let Vaelora return and watch as Roweena became someone else. Someone colder, sharper, unforgiving. Someone who had never whisperedI love youin the dark. Would Vaelora still care for me in some way? Yes. But it wouldn't be the same.
I would never hear Roweena's voice again. Never have her wake beside me again, never see that dreamy look on her face when she first blinked her eyes open. My mortal lover would be gone, and with her would go her soft laughter, her human anger, her teasing jabs.
My hands clenched into fists. What was the right thing? Because this was more than me. More than her. The fate of theentire world hinged on what happened next. If Malzhaedon rose in his full power, there would be no one to stop him. The gods had no dominion over him now—only I and my unborn sons did. And Vaelora had known this. She had seen it and planned everything.
From beginning to end.
And that's when I understood. This was not about my choices. This was not about my will. This was abouther. My goddess. The one who had ruled at my side, the one who had condemned me to sleep, the one who had loved me in the only way she could. The one I had failed once before by not trusting her.
I exhaled sharply, looking at Roweena, at the fear and resolve in her gaze, at the woman who had changed everything. I lifted my hand and brushed my fingers against her cheek, memorizing the warmth of her skin and the way she leaned into my touch even now.
Her voice was barely a whisper. "Vardor?"
I dropped my hand and stepped back. Her brows furrowed in confusion, but I forced myself to let go.
"This is not my choice to make," I murmured.
Unspoken words passed between us before she nodded.
