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“Seems to me you’re rejecting the things that are rightfully yours in favor of something that is not.”

“The mortal underworld owes me,” I growled, plunging one frostbitten foot before the other. “What is mine, I keep.”

“Spoken like an entitled mortal.” Milton sighed. “Your world must be incredibly beautiful for you to choose it over this one.”

In my mind, I pictured my home. My sprawling mansion, while lovely, paled in comparison to Slyborn Castle. Pavedroads, rumbling machinery, and the stench of exhaust fumes drifted on the wind. None of it held up when compared to the natural splendor of this land.

“Did your followers worship you in the mortal world?”

“They did not.” I pictured the High Court justices sneering down at me. The bloodthirsty audience, eager to watch me fall.

“Carcerem would worship you,” he quipped, his bubble riding an icy breeze. “Many already do. I fear they will lose hope when you abandon them.”

I bared my fangs, icy lips splitting with the effort. “Until a new prophecy comes along, declaring the rise of yet another fated king.”

“And the mortal world, they are eager for your return, waiting to welcome you?”

“No.”

“Then you must have a wife. One you left behind, as you are about to do here. She must be truly special for you to leave your fated mate in Carcerem. Runa will suffer once you’re gone. To be separated from one’s fated mate is excruciating. It seems cruel to have claimed her, knowing you would throw her away.”

Would she? At the thought of Runa suffering, daggers pierced my heart.

“I think maybe you are not deserving of the realm’s gifts.”

“It doesn’t matter what you think.”

“Perhaps, but it will matter what the keeper of the Empyrean temple thinks.”

“How so?”

“Only those who are worthy shall bathe in Hathor’s power. Should she reject you, you will die.”

“She won’t reject me.” I smirked, throwing his own argument back at him. “I am the lost king.”

“This, sadly, is the truth, even if you do not believe. You are the lost king. The king who haslosthis faith in mankind. Whohas lost his ability to love. Lost sight of what really matters. Lost his values. His honor.”

In the distance, a stone circle took shape in the frosty haze. I rubbed the ice crystals from my weeping eyeballs.

“Is that…”

“The Empyrean temple,” my floating guide confirmed.

Thank the gods. I didn’t know how much more of the child’s clumsy manipulation I could tolerate without punting his magical sphere down the mountain.

At the entrance, he bowed his head to me. “Good luck, Victor Custodis. I hope you find what it is that you truly seek.”

The temple door swung open, and a wave of hot air washed over my frozen frame. Warmth beckoned, and I hurried inside, closing the door behind me. Before me was a heated grotto. Steam wafted from a turquoise pool set in its center. Glowing crystals nestled into the walls, filling the space with light. Ferns and tropical flowers poked out from the rocks.

I blew into my chilly hands, rubbing my icy skin. Etched into the stone were ancient runes. It was in a language I didn’t recognize. I uttered a curse, trailing my fingers over the carvings, when a golden burst of energy snapped to life. I jerked my hand away, watching as the odd images shifted, the runes changing. Words took shape in a language I understood.

Those who seek redemption shall find enlightenment in the water.

Frozen fabric cracked in my grip, and I drew my frozen tunic over my shoulders. The material was stiff as cardboard. I did the same with my remaining garments, relieved to be free of my bedraggled clothing.

This was it.

At the edge of the pool, I dipped a toe, finding the temperature pleasant enough. Though even ice water would be warmer than what I just trekked through. Once I was submerged up to my shoulders, I moaned in relief, my body thawing. This wasn’tso bad. Perhaps the guardian exaggerated when he spoke of death.