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CHAPTER

FORTY

Oralia

“Do you understand now, Oralia?” Harleena gazed at me with those strange eyes as if the entire universe was contained within her stare.

Truthfully, I was off balance from her pronouncement that I had the power to destroy Ren or any timeless god. I never wanted to know how in case the knowledge fell into the wrong hands. For the first time, I thought I understood the burden of so much power—of realizing you could crack the world in two and stand in place as the pieces fell.

So perhaps, in a way…“I do.”

“So now, I must also ask once more for your forgiveness,” she murmured, voice soft and sweet like a lullaby. “It was I who sent Typhon his father’s ring, his father’s chains.”

A muscle ticked in my jaw, and shadows and flames flared across my shoulders, but she raised her hands for patience.

“If he had not believed he had the power to take Infernis, so many more would have died— you would have died before you found the power of resurrection through the suffering he caused you, and Typhon would have placed Ren’s crown upon another’s head.”

I shook my head, laughing bitterly. “Through suffering strength is found.”

“Yes,” she breathed.

“It is barbaric,” I snapped. “You placed a weapon in the hands of a monster who then ripped Ren apart piece by piece.”

Such a perfect expression of sadness there on her face. Her eyes were damp with grief, it rolled off her in waves with her power. “I live in many worlds, Oralia. Many times. A multitude of universes. Petra sees what is to come within this life and this path once the choices have been set—I see what might occur within each and every timeline, each and every choice.” Cool hands cupped my face. “I fight on the side not of goodness but of peace, of harmony, and sometimes, it means terrible sacrifices must be made for the greater good.”

The God of Time released me before she crossed to the plinth where Ren’s final piece sat, gathered it in her arms, and passed it to me. I did not take off the shroud, unable to look upon the face of my soulmate in such a state. But it was a relief to have him in my arms, to know soon we would begin the work to resurrect him.

I had no words for her treachery, no forgiveness to offer her even if I understood. Time was a fickle thing, and I could no more understand the path than I could go back to change what had already passed.

“What she speaks is truth,” Caston said behind me.

Harleena touched her fingertips to the curve of my cheekbones before rising to her toes to brush her mouth across my brow. I shivered, magic spreading out across my skin as if I had been dipped into a warm bath.

“This path is treacherous and treasonous,” she said before dipping down to press her lips to the top of the bundle in my arms. “The way forward is split into two, and I cannot yet know what the outcome will be. But there are horrors ahead, regardless of what road you take.”

I looked at my companions who lingered at my side. Drystan’s gaze was fixed upon the woman before us while Caston had eyes only for the bundle in my arms. War was imminent, and I could feel his impatience to resurrect Ren—as acute as my own. And though I could not offer her forgiveness, I could find it in me to offer her something much more valuable in the face of such pain.

“Peace,” I said, dipping my chin.

Harleena gave a small bow, pressing a hand over her heart before she stepped away. “ Myhn lathira.”

My laugh was bitter. “I am not your queen.”

But the god merely raised a beautifully arched brow. “You are the queen of death, Oralia. And death comes for us all.”

* * *

We stood on the grassy hillside overlooking the sea where Petra had first led me from the stone temple. The wind whipped through our hair, swirling up our cloaks and mixing with the sea spray. None of us had spoken as we made our way from those strange rooms where timeless gods wandered without purpose—the way the souls in Pyralis and Isthil often did.

The final piece of Ren was heavy in my arms, and I was desperate to return home. Yet I hesitated, turning back to look at the stone path winding through Iapetos. There, a few of the gods were gathered, observing us warily.

There was Delia, her silky hair blowing in the breeze, hand in hand with Cato. Petra was there as well, a frown on her face, beside a god with a shock of white hair, matching wings, and deep bronze skin. Harleena stepped between the small gathering, placing a hand on one god with skin so dark it reminded me of night, their hair cropped close to their skin and full lips pulled into a seductive smile.

“Would you allow some to join you on this road?” Harleena asked, raising her voice.

My companions all looked at me. I frowned at the group. The Gods of Youth, of Wisdom, of Prophecy, of Time, and a few others I did not know.

“The one beside her is Kaemon. His magic is steeped in pleasure,” Samarah murmured, leaning close. “And the one beside Petra is Felix. They are the God of Luck.”

Luck. I thought we could use some of that right now. And what was the harm in allowing them to come unless they planned to betray us?

“Caston,” I said, gesturing toward the group.

He nodded and, without a word, strode forward with Aelestor close behind, forearm resting on his pommel. We followed, Samarah’s bones clicking with each step. Drystan took up the rear, and I could feel his discomfort, the worry curling through the air alongside the wind.

When we reached the group, Caston and Aelestor stepped to the side to allow me to move to the head, bowing in a way I’d seen others do a thousand times in deference to Typhon growing up.

I squared my shoulders. “Before we leave, I would like Caston to ask you a series of questions. That is how we will decide who will join us.”

A few of the gods frowned while others, like Petra and Harleena, nodded in understanding. After another moment, I turned toward Caston, gesturing to begin. He had reached prime only half a century or so ago, but his magic was strong and growing stronger with each passing day. He took a breath before turning toward the gods we had not met yet.

“Your name?” Caston asked the one with midnight skin.

The god took a step forward, a curved brow rising. “Kaemon, and yours?”

His voice was smooth, the way silk felt beneath one’s hand, drawing an unexpected flush to my cheeks. Caston, however, was too deep within his magic to notice, his attention fixed on Kaemon.

“Why do you wish to join us?” he questioned.

The god tilted his head, light green-flecked eyes traveling the length of Caston’s body and back up again. “I wish to see the end of Typhon.”

“That is not your only reason,” Caston pressed, and his tone was different, magic heavy in his voice.

Kaemon grinned, pink tongue darting out to slide across his bottom lip. “And I like the look of you, Prince Caston of Aethera. I want to see more.”

Finally, a flush did creep up Caston’s rose-gold cheeks, and he cleared his throat, turning to me with a nod.

The God of Pleasure would be joining us.

All of the gods were questioned in a similar way, though with slightly different wording. Cato and Harleena alone appeared to have no ulterior motive, though I was hesitant to allow the God of Time to come after what she had done. Petra wanted to see her son, Thorne, and Brio, Delia, and Felix, the God of Luck, all wished to see the world they had built after so many millennia of hiding. Belinay, the God of Water and Zayne’s mother, wished to see her son, and the same for Kahliya, the God of Love, who did not say who her child was.

In the end, they would all join us in Infernis. My stomach flipped with the realization that soon Ren would be restored. Soon, he would be home. An itch spread out across my palms, my power stretching and reaching for it.

“We will take you in groups, I think,” I said, deciding I would split my companions up to stay behind with each set I shadow-walked.

“Wait,” a familiar voice grunted, footsteps crunching behind us.

“ Stars ,” I cursed, turning as Gunthar made his way toward us, a hand running down his thick beard.

He must have been more powerful than they’d let on to have already healed. There was steel in his eyes, sharp as the blade he’d killed me with, and I could not help but remember the tang of saltwater on my tongue, the burning of my lungs as I choked with it.

“I will join you on this journey,” he announced.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I turned to Caston who looked back, bewildered. With a sigh, I turned again toward the god whose neck I’d snapped.

“Why would you join me?”

The God of War grinned the way I was sure a thousand warriors before him had on the battlefield when the thirst for blood ran wild through their veins.

“Because when one finds a worthy opponent, sometimes it is best to make an ally rather than an enemy.”