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“There is no point in continuing if you will automatically dismiss what I’m saying before I even finish saying it.” I took a breath. “Gods were born knowing they would Ascend one day. They have their entire lives to prepare for it. The Chosen do not.”

“They don’t?” His brows rose. “They are given to the Temples at birth and raised as Chosen. They spend their entire lives preparing to serve in Iliseeum and to Ascend. The only difference is they do not Ascend into godhood.”

First off, that wasn’t the only difference. But not all of them were being Ascended. Some were being killed or turned.

But I could argue until I was blue in the face, and it wouldn’t change what Kolis believed, nor would it answer what I wanted to know.

“And you have to do this because of balance,” I said. “What exactly is this balance?”

“The balance is everything, so’lis. Without it, there is nothing.”

“I know.” I beat back my rising frustration. “You said that. But you haven’t—”

“The balance is everything,” he repeated. “And there is balance in everything. Or that is what the Fates say, at least. I tend to think their idea of balance is a bit…unbalanced.” Anger crept into his features. “Did you know the Primal of Death is expected to remain distant from anyone whose soul may one day pass before them for judgment?”

My eyes widened.

“Of course, you wouldn’t know that. The Primal of Death is not to have friends, confidants, or lovers among anyone who may need to be judged. The Arae believe that forming close bonds could ultimately skew judgment,” Kolis stated. “That means any being that is not a Primal or a draken.”

I hadn’t known that. Did that also play a role in why Ash kept a wall up between him and Rhain, Saion, and all the others? Why hadn’t he shared this with me? Then again, there hadn’t been much time for me to learn the more intricate details of his duties when I spent half the time I’d been with him attempting to keep myself from growing close to him. It reminded me of when I’d asked him about his armies and plans. He hadn’t keyed me in on any of it because, at that point, I hadn’t expressed any real interest in becoming his Consort. Regret surged through me, joining what was sure to become a long list.

“And yet, this was not expected of the Primal of Life,” Kolis continued. “There were no limitations, as if being in the Primal of Life’s favor couldn’t lead to poor judgment, even though the Primal god’s abilities were a collection of the other Primals’—a medley of the others’ goodness that could be exploited. Do you know how?”

I shook my head.

Kolis’s smile was more of a smirk. “My brother could bring rain to lands parched, but he could not wash those lands into the sea as Phanos can. He could help foster love between two individuals, but he could not twist it into hate as Maia is wont to do. He could capture souls, but he could not direct their path as Keella can.” His nostrils thinned. “He could grant fortune but not curse those with misfortune like Veses can. And he could ensure that a hunt—be it for animal or the missing—was successful, but he could not weaken the bow or hide what one seeks as Hanan was able to do. When asked for advice, Eythos could stir duty within the most slothful character, but he couldn’t inspire blind loyalty as Embris can. He could breed peace and accord, but not war and vengeance.”

Kolis tipped back his head. “He could change any mortal’s or god’s life for the better if he wanted to, in whatever way he saw fit. But the Fates did not see that as something forming bonds with them could influence.”

“That doesn’t sound fair,” I said after a moment. “It actually makes no sense.”

Kolis eyed me, some of the eagerness easing from his features. “Then you and I are in agreement.”

That was a disturbing thought.

“But to the Arae, it does make sense, and ensuring that emotions would never sway me was how they believed those who hadn’t earned their paradise or punishment would keep from being rewarded with such. To them, eternity was far more important than what they saw as a temporary life, despite how shortsighted that belief was.”

More like how long-sighted it was. It was like looking upon the forest and being unable to see all the trees within it. “And neither you nor Eythos could talk to them about this?”

“For what purpose? To change their minds?” Kolis laughed, the sound bordering on mocking. “You do not change the Fates’ minds.”

Okay, maybe he was right. What did I know? Absolutely nothing when it came to any of this. “But what does this have to do with what you just did with that Chosen?”

“Because that, too, creates balance. One designed only to be known by the Arae, the true Primal of Life, and the true Primal of Death,” he said. “A balance that was established when the Ancients created the realms.”

Headache forgotten, I stared at him. “I thought Eythos created the realms.”

Kolis’s smile was harsh. “He created some, but he didn’t create the realms—all the lands and oceans that allow life to foster and grow. The Ancients did. And contrary to what is told and believed, the Ancients were not the first of the Primals, nor will any Primal become an Ancient, no matter how old they become.”

I opened my mouth, but then it struck me. If the dragons—the ancestors of the draken—were here, something had to create them. It hadn’t been Eythos since they already existed when he’d become so fascinated by them.

“And they also decreed that there must be death and vice versa. Just as every action has a reaction, one cannot exist without the other. And it would not be as simple as there only being life if there was no death, or only death if there was no life.” Kolis’s eyes flashed. “So, there must always be the Primal of Death and the Primal of Life, even if nothing more than a spark of embers remains in them. Even if they are in stasis or…” His gaze flickered over me. “Or hidden within a mortal bloodline. As long as the embers exist in some fashion, and life is created and taken, the balance is maintained.”

“Oh,” I whispered, staring ahead but not seeing him.

He studied me. “I see you now understand the importance of life, even if it is undesirable to you. And that you see what I personally risk by not taking those embers.”

I nodded, but he mistook my shock. I’d always known what would happen if the embers of life were extinguished. It was what he’d unintentionally shared that shook me.