Page 34 of Rise of the Gods: Vardor’s Destiny (Time for Monsters)

I turned to Asharat. "What do you mean the decision was taken from her ?" Had someone dared to harm her? Had someone threatened her? I would slay whoever it was and hand her his head. Nobody threatened my goddess.

Her words when she awakened me for the final time came back to me: It's time, Vardor. They're coming, and we must be ready .

There was only one enemy that could have forced her hand: Maezharr. He must have returned. No matter. I had defeated him once; I would do so again, and this time I would finish him.

My gaze moved to Roweena. To the hand by her belly. Our child. The child that shouldn't be.

The weight in Asharat's gaze deepened. He inclined his head slightly, as if he had expected this, as if he had been preparing for this conversation since the moment Vaelora set her plan in motion. "I wish I could tell you everything, High Warlord, but I was never meant to know all of her secrets."

My fists clenched. "Then tell me what you do know."

Asharat exhaled slowly. "I know that she saw what was coming. She saw him."

A cold whisper of recognition curled in my gut.

"Maezharr." The name left my lips like a curse.

Asharat shook his head. "Not Maezharr. Not anymore."

I stilled and waited for him to elaborate. Asharat's dark gaze flickered toward Roweena before settling back on me. "He calls himself Malzhaedon now."

The name tasted like bile, like something foul. Like it had been burned into existence by darkness itself. Roweena shuddered beside me, and her breath hitched. She felt it too.

I exhaled slowly. "Tell me everything."

"Maezharr was always dangerous," Asharat began, his voice low and even. "You defeated him once, Vardor. And you will do so again."

I narrowed my eyes, the memories of those battles still sharp in my mind, but Asharat's tone told me this was not just the same enemy returning. "He should have died," I growled. "But the bastard fled, burrowing himself deep into the sand."

"You did the best you could," Asharat assured me, "But Malzhaedon was more cunning than even Vaelora could foresee.

"He fell into the abyss," Asharat continued. "Not to the underworld you knew. Something deeper. Older. Hungrier. And there, he changed."

Malzhaedon .

A name reshaped in fire and ruin. A god who had become something else. Something even more powerful. Something to be feared. Something that would bring death and destruction.

"Vaelora saw it," Asharat said. "She had a vision of what would come. She saw how, over the next centuries, his power would grow in the shadows. How the faith of mortals, twisted by desperation and fear, would give him strength. How he would rise again—not as a man, not even as a god, but as a force beyond either."

I held his gaze, my pulse steady. "You're telling me he has become the devil."

Asharat's lips pressed into a thin line. "I'm telling you he has become something worse."

"The world above does not know what is coming," Asharat said. "They have forgotten the old battles, the wars between gods and men. They live in their peace, believing the worst is behind them."

He exhaled sharply. "But Vaelora knew better."

Roweena had gone silent beside me, her gaze locked onto Asharat. She looked… serene.

"She saw what Malzhaedon would do," Asharat continued. "How he would unleash the creatures of hell on an unsuspecting world. How he would bend the very fabric of existence to his will, corrupting the balance between life and death, turning the earth into a realm of chaos."

Dread filled me. "She saw the world fall."

"Yes," Asharat said grimly. "And she knew that even if she awakened you, your power alone would not be enough to stop it. That's why she needed you."

My jaw tightened. "She needed me for battle."

"She needed you for more than that."

Asharat's gaze flickered to Roweena's stomach, and I went still. He knew. That meant Vaelora had known as well.

Roweena's breath hitched sharply. Her hand drifted to her belly, her fingers caressing the precious life growing inside her.

"She needs your sons," Asharat said quietly. "The world will not survive what is coming with mortals alone. Vaelora knew this. She knew the only ones who could stand against Malzhaedon's armies would be those who carried the blood of both gods and men. Demigods."

My chest tightened, and something cold and unfamiliar slithered into my ribs. Because suddenly, I understood. Vaelora hadn't awakened me because she missed and loved me. She needed me. She needed more of me.

Roweena swallowed hard, her voice unsteady. "But... goddesses can't create life."

Asharat nodded, his gaze steady. "No. They can't."

A thick and suffocating silence settled between us.

"Then how is this possible?" she whispered, her other hand pressing over mine. Neither of us had the answer. But I felt the shift, the truth threading into me even as I tried to resist it. Vaelora's vision had not been of herself. It had been of Roweena. A goddess who had given up everything to be reborn as a mortal. To bear what Vaelora never could.

Asharat inclined his head slightly. "She chose this path, Roweena. She chose you."

Roweena's fingers curled against my palm. I could feel her pulse—fast, uneven. Fear rose in her eyes, but there was something else, something that frightened me: acceptance.

"What do I need to do?" Roweena turned to Asharat.

"Lay down on the altar. She set everything in motion before she left." He instructed.

"No." I roared.

She turned to me, eyes wide, uncertainty flickering beneath her resolve.

"You know this needs to be done, Vardor." Her voice trembled. She wasn't sure about this either. She needed me to protect her. But from what? Vaelora? Me? I didn't know, I just didn't know anymore.

Once again, Vaelora's words came back to me. I'll never forgive you, Vardor, but I will give you one more chance to prove yourself. One more! And if you fail, this entire world will pay the price for your failure .

I had spent ten thousand years locked in silence, dreaming of the moment I would see her again, of what I would say to her if she ever woke me. But now I understood. It was never about what I wanted. It was never about me. I looked at Roweena—the woman who saved me when I was drowning in a life I had not asked for. The woman who touched me with kindness, with laughter, with something softer than war and duty. She had become my home in a way nothing else ever had.

My gaze moved to the altar—the path set long before I was ever meant to walk it. Vaelora's path. She had accused me of not trusting her. Of choosing for her. Of caging her in the name of love. Had she known that this moment would come? That I would be forced to choose between Roweena and her? Between the woman I loved and the goddess who had loved me as best she could?

I thought of our child. I thought of what it meant to have something gods were never meant to have. If I ran with Roweena, I could have everything I never thought I wanted. We could flee this place, flee fate itself. I could watch her carry our child. Watch her grow old beside me, live a mortal life I had never thought to crave again. I could be there when our sons were born—watch them grow, laugh, fight, love.

And then I would watch them die.

Because even if we survived, even if we fled Malzhaedon's grasp, time would not be kind to them. Roweena would fade. Our children would wither. Only I would remain. Alone. For eternity.

Or I could let her ascend.

I could let Vaelora return and watch as Roweena became someone else. Someone colder, sharper, unforgiving. Someone who had never whispered I love you in the dark. Would Vaelora still care for me in some way? Yes. But it wouldn't be the same.

I would never hear Roweena's voice again. Never have her wake beside me again, never see that dreamy look on her face when she first blinked her eyes open. My mortal lover would be gone, and with her would go her soft laughter, her human anger, her teasing jabs.

My hands clenched into fists. What was the right thing? Because this was more than me. More than her. The fate of the entire world hinged on what happened next. If Malzhaedon rose in his full power, there would be no one to stop him. The gods had no dominion over him now—only I and my unborn sons did. And Vaelora had known this. She had seen it and planned everything.

From beginning to end.

And that's when I understood. This was not about my choices. This was not about my will. This was about her . My goddess. The one who had ruled at my side, the one who had condemned me to sleep, the one who had loved me in the only way she could. The one I had failed once before by not trusting her.

I exhaled sharply, looking at Roweena, at the fear and resolve in her gaze, at the woman who had changed everything. I lifted my hand and brushed my fingers against her cheek, memorizing the warmth of her skin and the way she leaned into my touch even now.

Her voice was barely a whisper. "Vardor?"

I dropped my hand and stepped back. Her brows furrowed in confusion, but I forced myself to let go.

"This is not my choice to make," I murmured.

Unspoken words passed between us before she nodded.

She turned to step up on the altar, lying down on the stone slab without hesitation. The golden light from above shifted, bent, and focused entirely on her, illuminating her skin in a way that made her seem untouchable, divine.

I clenched my fists, forcing myself not to stop this when everything inside me screamed to pull her back. To cage her again.

I was giving Vaelora her chance to prove herself.

Just as she was giving me mine.

Roweena turned her head toward me, a lone tear sliding down her cheek, "I love you, Vardor."

A tremble moved through me. I took a step forward. She took a startled breath. I didn't know if she feared or hoped I would pull her off the damned altar and run away with her. Something stopped me, like the light touch of a hand, but when I turned, nobody was there. With my heart tearing apart, I watched her body tense. The moment the light fully enveloped her, she closed her eyes and let out a sharp breath—one of pain, one of change.

And I knew. When next she opened her eyes, she would not be the same. Roweena would be gone. And Vaelora—my goddess, my queen, the one I had followed into eternity—would return.

I stood motionless, the weight of the entire world pressing down on me. And I did the only thing I could do. I trusted her.