Page 96 of Evermore (The Never Sky #3)

Thorne

I sat, watching the gods file into Archer’s council chamber with varying degrees of disdain and curiosity in their immortal eyes.

The massive oak table stretched between Ezra and me like a battlefield, with my brother seated at the opposite end.

His face mirrored mine, impassive, calculating, a perfect mask hiding centuries of conflict.

Every seat was filled. The biggest players had all come.

Vesalia examined her perfectly manicured nails, the clock ticking on her necklace filled the almost silent space.

Beside her, Serene’s golden eyes glittered with hunger as they swept over Paesha.

Bellatora’s fingers drummed an impatient rhythm against the polished wood.

Kaelor’s autumn-fire hair flickered with each breath he took.

Valen, Raeth, Veurs, Nyaxis, Orathis, gods I hadn’t seen gathered in one place for millennia were all there.

Their presence would have been impressive if I didn’t sense the desperation beneath their carefully composed exteriors. Their vie for power.

Aeris sat as close as she could to Quill, her dark hair artfully arranged, her face a mask of maternal concern over the child as if she had any claim.

Alastor remained silent in his corner, observing everything, his Remnants swirling across his arms like living tattoos.

Beside him, Irri hummed softly, her delicate fingers tracing incomprehensible patterns on the tabletop.

They hadn’t come for me. They’d come for Paesha, for her power, for the chance to tear it from her and make it their own.

Raeth’s eyes, one bright with joy, one darkened by sorrow, fixed on Quill. “Why is the child here?” he asked, his dual-toned voice rippling through the chamber. “This is no place for her.”

Paesha’s shadows crept across the floor, circling Quill.

“The Fera stays,” Minerva replied sharply, her weathered hand resting protectively on Quill’s shoulder. “Her presence is necessary.”

“Necessary for what, exactly?” Bellatora challenged, leaning forward, “This isn’t a nursery, Minerva.”

Quill didn’t bother looking up from her book, seemingly uninterested in the gods bickering over her presence.

“The child’s presence is not up for debate,” Minerva said with finality. “Continue, Reverius.”

I cleared my throat, drawing all eyes back to me. “I’ve called you here because we have a problem that concerns us all.”

“Your obsession with the Huntress is hardly our collective problem,” Veurs drawled, his form shifting slightly as he spoke, never quite settling on a single appearance.

“If that were true,” I countered, “none of you would have bothered to come.”

He shifted back in his seat.

“As I was saying, you all know we have a problem. The power is failing across all realms. The balance has been broken.”

“By her,” Aeris interjected, pointing a slender finger at Paesha. “As was foretold.”

Paesha’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Point that nasty finger at me one more time and I’ll break it off. Don’t even fucking look at me, mother .”

The chamber went deathly quiet at her words. Aeris’s face tightened, but she said nothing.

“And stay away from my kid,” Paesha added, her voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “You don’t get to play goddess and mother whenever it suits you.”

I continued before Aeris could respond. “The imbalance began long before Paesha was born. In fact, I believe it began before Ezra’s vision of the Huntress.”

Ezra’s eyes narrowed from the far end of the table. “Careful, brother.”

“Gods don’t question the Fates,” Nyaxis whispered. “We learned that lesson after Minnie’s misfortune. It’s not our place.”

“Perhaps it should be,” I countered. “Because the moment we stopped questioning, we started losing.”

I stood, placing my palms flat against the table as I leaned forward. “The Huntress isn’t responsible for the imbalance. We created it ourselves by trying to prevent it. Ezra and I have been locked in this battle for centuries, each of us believing we were protecting the realms in our own way.”

“You’re suggesting the prophecy was false?” Kaelor asked, his voice rumbling like distant thunder.

“I’m suggesting it was bait. And we fucking took it.”

Bellatora laughed. “How convenient that your realization comes right as your precious Huntress sits on the throne of Stirling, her power growing beyond what any mortal should possess and within her final life.”

“Losing all of our power is not convenient,” I shot back. “Take two godsdamn seconds and see reason, because I cannot stand against them by myself.”

Tuck nodded, finally speaking up. “The fluctuations affect all of us. Even in this room, I can feel the ebb and flow. Can’t you?”

A murmur of reluctant agreement passed through the assembly. They couldn’t deny it. Their power surged and faltered in unpredictable waves, evident in the way Serene’s glow dimmed periodically, in how Vesalia’s control of time seemed to skip and stutter around her.

“If the Huntress isn’t the cause,” Vesalia said, her eyes fixing on Paesha, “then what is?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and stared up at the ceiling. “It’s always been the Fates.”

“Blasphemy,” Valen hissed.

“Truth,” Minerva countered, rising to stand beside me. “I’ve felt it for centuries but couldn’t piece it together. My mind… There were gaps in my reasoning that I couldn’t explain.”

She turned to Ezra. “You were right about one thing, Ezarius. The Fates were moving against me. They set everything up. When I took on part of their Wrath, it wasn’t coincidence. They took something from me, a sliver of my Reason, my ability to see patterns clearly.”

The room fell silent as the implications sank in.

“Reason was always their first target,” Minerva continued.

“They can see and weave fate, but Reason helps decide which fate to nurture and which to abandon. The power they stole from me forged a path for them to take all power for themselves, and if you’re too blind to see that then you deserve to have everything taken from you. ”

Alastor leaned forward, his Remnants suddenly still. “Explain.”

They wouldn’t hear me, but they would hear her. And for the first time since I stepped into the Forgotten, I felt her stand at my side again. I felt her acknowledge me in the best way she knew how. Not by coddling, but with her support.

“If the balance is completely gone, we all lose our power,” Minerva said. “Then only the Fates and mortals will be left with it. And eventually, mortal blood will be too diluted to matter. Who does that leave with power?”

I turned to Ezra. “Tell me, brother. Was it the Fates who showed you the vision of the Huntress breaking the balance? That happened after they were bound to their loom, did it not?”

Ezra’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t deny it.

“The Fates orchestrated every step,” Minerva said, her voice growing stronger. “They wanted to be bound to the loom because it made them appear weakened and trapped. It positioned them as victims rather than orchestrators. Let them work in secret while we underestimated them.”

“They hold the key to the Noctus Gate,” I added, watching comprehension dawn across the gathered gods’ faces. “Why would they need that, if not to lock us away from our own power?”

“If what you’re saying is true,” Serene interjected, “then there’s an obvious solution. We destroy the Huntress, take her power, and use it to restore the balance ourselves.”

“You would regret ever breathing,” I stated flatly, my power flaring around me in a golden aura.

Archer, who’d sat silently at my side, shifted slightly in his chair, eyes locked dead ahead.

“She’s only a demigod, Reverius,” Bellatora sneered. “With stolen power that doesn’t belong to her.”

“She’s…” mine, I wanted to say. Mine to have. Mine to love. Mine to protect. But I couldn’t. Not publicly. Not anymore.

“Mine,” Archer spoke up, his voice steady despite being surrounded by gods, “she’s my wife and queen of Stirling. Protected by ancient laws that even you can’t break, Bellatora.”

Vesalia’s lips curved into a cold smile.

“Two things, King. First, you’re protected by the Fates you’re asking us to damn.

I could kill you here and now and suffer their wrath, or stand against them and suffer their wrath, so it seems you’re not as safe as you think you are.

Besides, there are ways to extract power without death. I’ve done it before.”

The room erupted into argument, gods shouting over each other about who would get Paesha’s power once it was taken, how it would be divided, what it would mean for the realms.

“Enough!” Minerva’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade as her cane whacked the top of the table. She stood. “If anyone moves against Paesha, I will end them.”

Many of the gods feared that Minerva’s grasp on the Fates’ Wrath gave her the power to kill them.

Her threats resonated around the room, anger seeping down the walls in a flash of dangerous power.

“Consider the root of this problem. It’s the Fates.

It’s always been the Fates. The prophecy they delivered spurred this imbalance into motion.

The girl had nothing to do with it.” She turned to Ezra, pinning him with her piercing gaze. “Remember who you are, Ezarius.”

Ezra’s expression hardened. “You know nothing of what I’ve seen.”

“I know enough,” she countered. “Wake up and see what’s before you.”

The chamber fell into uneasy silence as she walked toward the door. Before leaving, she turned back one last time. “I call for a vote. Which of you will stand against the Fates?”

Hands rose slowly. Tuck. Myself. Archer, though his vote carried no weight here. Serene, surprisingly. Raeth. Veurs. Orathis. Nyaxis.

Against us stood Ezra. Vesalia. Kaelor. Bellatora. Aeris. Vaelen.

Eight to six. A fragile majority.

All eyes turned to Alastor and Irri, who had not voted.

“Well?” Bellatora demanded. “Where do you stand?”