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Foolish, I always thought, to fear something you couldn’t avoid.

But then, I died.

And everything changed.

I remember being nervous about the Bone Match. I knew there was a chance Louhi could strike, and even though we had taken every precaution by using my Shadow Self, there was a risk in going out in public like we did. The last thing I wanted was to put Hanna in danger, and yet, I still found the risk acceptable enough to do so.

That was my biggest mistake. In hindsight, I should have shoved my need for power and politics aside. I should have buried my pride. What I wanted was to show my people I was still in charge, still their God, and I wanted to make an event of it. I should have found another way to do that instead of delivering Hanna right into the jaws of the wolves.

I should have picked her above all else.

But fear is a persistent creature.

Even when you think you’ve faced it, even when you think you’ve hidden from it, it will find some way to come back around. I feared the loss of my stature, the loss of my kingdom, the loss of power. I feared those more than the loss of Hanna and my own life.

Then, in an instant, I lost it all.

All those losses culminated in my death.

Death at the hands of someone pretending to be my wife.

After that, there was only darkness.

Until a voice brought me to light.

I heard Hanna tell me she loved me. Her words were a beacon in the night, in that void, in that cold space that wasn’tquite Oblivion but wasn’t quite this realm. They pulled me up, like I was rushing toward the surface but never reaching it.

Then, I felt the impossible.

I felt my hand, unobstructed by any glove or layer, against her cheek, my skin against her skin.

And it was like coming home.

I burst through the surface and ended up in my body, staring up at a sight I thought I would never see, feeling something I never thought I would feel.

Hanna was beside me, surrounded by glowing light. I pressed my fingers against her cheek, unsure if I was still dead or if I was dreaming. I felt her for the first time, and it was like something bright being born inside me.

I still wasn’t sure if we were both alive, but it didn’t matter. When she slipped my dick inside her and started riding me, I thought maybe true heaven existed after all, even better than Amaranthus.

And then, she grew.

She grew into the being I always knew she was.

She became more than just the prophecy—the one who can touch Death and unite the land. She became a Goddess.

Golden wings made of sun flares and flames extended from her back, making her dark hair turn shades of burning amber. She glowed with power, lit from within like a fuse that had been buried inside her for far too long.

She was incredible.

She was powerful.

And she was mine.

Now she sits on top of me, my cock still hard inside her, so impossibly turned on by what I witnessed—how she brought me back from the dead, how she’s the chosen one, how I can touch her, how she’s a Goddess—that I have a difficult time thinking straight.

From the confused look on her face, I know she can’t think straight either.

“Daughter of the Sun?” she repeats my words back to me, her brows knitting together. Though her wings and remnants of the sun are gone, she glows faintly in the light of the sphere on the ground, which makes the cell around us seem even darker.