She turned to step up on the altar, lying down on the stone slab without hesitation. The golden light from above shifted, bent, and focused entirely on her, illuminating her skin in a way that made her seem untouchable, divine.
I clenched my fists, forcing myself not to stop this when everything inside me screamed to pull her back. To cage her again.
I was giving Vaelora her chance to prove herself.
Just as she was giving me mine.
Roweena turned her head toward me, a lone tear sliding down her cheek, "I love you, Vardor."
A tremble moved through me. I took a step forward. She took a startled breath. I didn't know if she feared or hoped I would pull her off the damned altar and run away with her. Something stopped me, like the light touch of a hand, but when I turned, nobody was there. With my heart tearing apart, I watched her body tense. The moment the light fully enveloped her, she closed her eyes and let out a sharp breath—one of pain, one of change.
And I knew. When next she opened her eyes, she would not be the same. Roweena would be gone. And Vaelora—my goddess, my queen, the one I had followed into eternity—would return.
I stood motionless, the weight of the entire world pressing down on me. And I did the only thing I could do. I trusted her.
Ilay on the altar, the stone hard and cold beneath me, the golden light from above cascading over my body like a thousand whispered prayers. Vardor stood below the stone steps, staring up at me. His expression was filled with agony. My heart broke when I saw the war within him. I watched his fists clench as if he was trying to restrain himself from rushing up here and carrying me away. Part of me wished he would. I was scared. So, so scared. For myself, my son. For Vardor.
I closed my eyes as a tear slipped down my cheek, a tear for Roweena, for her last breath. With a breaking voice, I cried, “I love you, Vardor.”
I didn’t want him to ever forget that. My love for him was as eternal as the goddess who would be returned to him soon.If you love it, you set it free; no words have ever been wiser than those or hurt more. A second tear slipped down my cheek for us.For what could have been and for our unborn son. What would become of him? Would Vaelora's body reject him once she took possession of mine?
Even through my closed eyelids, I saw the light thickening, seeping into my bones, pulling me down, pulling me inward. I barely heard Vardor whisper my name before the world vanished.
I did not wake.
I became.
I was Vaelora again.
Not all at once.
Not in a violent rush.
But piece by piece.
I remembered the first moment I had ever existed—not as an infant, not as something born, but as something that simplywas.
I had emerged into the world fully formed, without past, without childhood, without weakness. The goddess of balance.
And I had brothers.
Maezharr.
Xyphor.
Draeven.
We were equals, once. We were meant to rule together, to shape existence, to ensure the world we ruled was a paradise. But greed had crept into them one by one. First Xyphor, the shaper of worlds, who thought creation belonged to him alone.
Then Draeven, the one who wielded time, who hoarded eternity as if it were his to command.
And lastly, Maezharr. The strongest. The hungriest. The most cunning and ruthless.
I remembered arguing with them, pleading, only to be laughed at. They enjoyed the mortals’ suffering because starving people believed stronger. And the stronger the people’s belief,the stronger we were. The mortals forgot about me; what did they know about balance? Instead, they prayed to my brothers. Unwittingly increasing their power, thus increasing their own suffering.
I should have acted sooner, but time moved differently for gods. A thousand mortal years were nothing but a breath to me. I had watched mortals from afar, moved not by their plight but by my inability to bring forth balance again. With the scales tipped, I felt off-kilter. I felt lost, like I was failing my one duty.
And then I sawhim.
