Page 17

Daimon

“The war needs to end. Your power alone could change it, could prevent future deaths,” Daimon hissed, unable to stop himself. The night sky was deceptively calm, a stark contrast to the chaos in his mind. “You’re a fucking bastard.”

Nyx laughed, the sound deep and warped. “Technically, you’re the bastard.”

Daimon squeezed his hands into fists, trying to rein his anger in. He hated Nyx. Hated him for the constant reminder as to what stood between him and Evelina, at the cavern of space that separated her light from his darkness.

“We could use you and that rage of yours,” Nyx said with a heavy sigh—more bored than holding any real emotion. “But Vidaris is patient. As am I.”

She sure as fuck was going to be patient. Daimon didn’t know what exactly the Goddess of Vengeance had planned for him, but he didn’t care to know. Because it was never going to happen.

“The war isn’t over yet,” he snarled.

Nyx watched him closely, quiet for long enough that it made Daimon fight the urge to squirm beneath his scrutiny.

“Do not forget your birthright, Daimon,” he said slowly. “ Vidaris is the ruler of the Vale for now, but with her interest in you as the Lord of Shadows, it could tip the power back in my direction if we play our cards right. I grow bored of watching her rule the Vale.”

Daimon held back a laugh, reminding himself he was in the presence of a god. Nyx had been pushing him to become the Lord of Shadows for years, wanting him to play his part in whatever scheme Nyx had concocted to steal Vidaris’s rule over the Vale.

Nyx had been forced into servitude to Vidaris centuries ago, a vassal to her power. Nyx’s son taking the helm of Lord of Shadows would be an ultimate show of loyalty, perhaps enough cover to finally buy him the freedom to rebuild his power.

Even if Vidaris suspected anything, she remained vulnerable as long as she couldn’t find a being of two worlds—both fae and god—to guard the realm outside the Vale.

Which left Daimon pretty much screwed, wrapped in their webs of power.

“Your power has matured enough for you to take the Shadow Realm.” Nyx tilted his head to the side. “Why delay the inevitable?”

“If it’s inevitable, why rush?”

Nyx chuckled and flung his arms around wide, looking up at the stars above them. “You are the son of a god , while also being the son of a fae woman. To take up the helm as the Lord of Shadows, one must have a foot in both worlds, blood of man and god.”

As far as Daimon knew, there weren’t any others like him. Both son of god and fae, making him halves of each and never quite whole.

“Man will not accept who you are.” Nyx bared his teeth in a smile that looked more like a snarl. “Or have you forgotten how eager men are to burn those who are different at the stake?”

Daimon could never forget it, even if he wanted to. Zephyr whimpered beneath him, feeling his pain .

“Perhaps a reminder would be of use,” Nyx said with a sigh, as if the burden of this responsibility weighed on him. He turned his back to Daimon, waving his hand—the god of dreams himself painting a mirage across the sky. Like looking through a mirror, Daimon watched the memory play out before him.

A woman held her hand to her round belly, her hair as dark as night, falling in wild waves down her back. She sang a broken melody about a boy who would change the fate of fae and man alike.

Daimon took a deep breath, the image of his mother almost too painful to bear. Yet he found himself unable to look away.

The woman sat with her legs folded beneath her, a white cotton nightgown snug on her stomach. She placed short sticks in a ring around an oak tree one by one. After, she took a black-bladed knife and carved symbols into the bark. She hummed her somber tune while completing the steps, not once breaking its pattern.

A leaf crunched behind her and she froze, fingers still wrapped around the blade, the point touching the tree. She briefly closed her eyes, still humming.

“Aurora,” a light, feminine voice said shakily. “Aurora.”

And yet Aurora still carved, eyes closed as she etched the symbols from memory. The footsteps grew closer to her, but she didn’t break stride.

“You’re with child.” The woman’s voice was pleading. “You promised you would stop this madness.”

Aurora sliced the dagger sideways and then again from the opposite side, creating a jagged X in the bark .

The woman crouched down beside Aurora, revealing her face.

Annora—no, Maliena. She looked so much like Annora that Daimon had to take another deep breath. Nyx still had his back to him, his hands folded as he watched the memory.

Maliena’s typically warm smile was tilted into a frown as she watched Aurora still cutting symbols into the tree. She reached out and placed a hand on Aurora’s shoulder. She flinched at the contact, Aurora’s shoulder icy to the touch, as if she had been out here for hours.

“If anyone catches you worshiping the dark gods, they’ll cast you into the wilderness,” Maliena tried again.

This might have been well before the time of the rebels surfacing, but worshiping the dark gods was unheard of—or at least carefully hidden. Simply being related to someone who worshiped them would make any fae an outcast.

Aurora paused, her humming halting and hand stopping. She slowly turned her head to Maliena, the side of her face now visible.

Daimon’s breath caught in his throat as he saw her hollowed-out cheeks and the deep circles beneath her eyes. He knew what would happen next, but that didn’t make it any easier. This was Nyx’s favorite memory to show, after all .

“I love him, Mali,” Aurora said in a scratchy voice. “He has to know I still believe in him.”

Maliena’s lip wobbled as she took in Aurora’s tearstained cheeks. “Please, just come back to my cottage with me. Let’s get you warmed up.”

Aurora shook her head fiercely, jerking back from Maliena’s touch. “There’s hardly anyone left who prays to Nyx,” she said harshly, her voice as sharp as the blade in her hand. She wrapped a protective hand around her stomach as she added, “I want our son to know him.”

Maliena was the only friend Aurora had told of who fathered the child. To everyone else, he was an unnamed man she had met on a journey.

“This child is killing you, Aurora,” Maliena said softly, her eyes welling with tears.

Aurora turned her attention back to the tree, resuming her etching with swift and deep cuts.

Maliena shifted, trying a new tactic. “Stop this for the sake of the child, then. He’ll be outcasted for his entire life if anyone learns that his mother worshiped Nyx instead of Eurydice.”

Aurora snorted a joyless laugh. “Eurydice hasn’t answered a prayer in decades, while Nyx is here, helping where he can.”

“And what of the child’s Essence when it’s born?” Maliena pushed. “Someone will find out if we don’t ? —”

“No one will know if you’re the only one present when it happens,” Aurora said quickly. “No one will find out.”

Every child released their parents’ magic back to them; it would separate and seek out the place from which it had originated. Even if a child’s parents were dead, their Essence would flow directly up, straight to Caelum. Since Aurora was a Nox, shadows would flow to her. But since Nyx was not fae, his Essence had nowhere to go .

The severed line would reveal Daimon was not blessed by Eurydice; that he was an abomination.

The memory rippled, like a rock dropping into a pond, and shifted into another.

Aurora was screaming as Maliena coached her breathing and yelled at her to push. “I can see the babe’s head!” Maliena shouted. “Another big push!”

Sweat had collected on Aurora’s brow as she pushed again. The door to the worn cottage burst open and a young midwife ran in, carrying a bowl of warm water and cloths.

“No,” Aurora said breathlessly. “She was supposed to wait until after the babe came. She can’t ? —”

There was no stopping the baby as it came out. A cry filled the cottage as Maliena wrapped it into a blanket.

“Please, you must leave. Come back later ? —”

But it was too late. The babe’s Essence was already flowing from its tiny body, returning to its parents.

A line of shadows returned to Aurora, just as it should. But the midwife gasped as the other line of shadows dashed around the room in a frantic search, spreading and blooming around the walls in an inky darkness. Then it broke above the babe, splitting in two. One side dissolved back into light, while the other line grew, then suddenly dropped, severed, bleeding shadows like a snake with its head cut off.

“What is this madness?” the midwife demanded. The shadows around the babe abruptly vanished, the magic dispersing around the room. “A cursed child! Not blessed by Eurydice,” she hissed and backed out of the cottage.

Maliena stood, cradling the babe, as the midwife ran from the cottage screaming.

“Save the baby, Mali,” Aurora said breathlessly. “Get out of here, now! ”

Maliena stepped forward, her eyes wide. “I won’t leave you Aurora.”

Men and women gathered outside the cottage, holding torches and farm tools they brandished as weapons.

“We will not have a child of evil in this realm!” a man shouted from the doorway. “Burn the house!”

Maliena panicked, looking to Aurora.

“Go,” Aurora pleaded. “And let him know his father will always hear his call.”

Daimon turned around, unable to watch what happened next. The memory dissolved, the cloud behind it returning to a gray haze. Icy pain stabbed at his chest.

“You see what happens when men are told things they do not understand?” Nyx turned back to Daimon. “Her loyalty to me was unmatched. You could learn a thing or two about that.”

He hoped Nyx couldn’t tell the way his chest was heaving, or the way sweat had collected against his temple. “You could have saved her.”

Nyx shrugged, seemingly unbothered by the way Aurora’s life had ended. But Daimon always saw past the facade. He could see the flash of pain in Nyx’s eyes, could see the way his mouth briefly pinched tighter.

“Matters of the gods are not your concern,” he said simply. “But as my heir, your rightful place is a creator of pain, a wielder of darkness and demons. Whenever you’re finished with this little detour, you will have much to do. The path is being laid for you, Daimon. And when fate chooses, you will wear the crown of darkness.”

“No one knows what fate has planned,” Daimon said half-heartedly. But even as he said it, he could feel the nauseating unease swirling in his stomach.

Nyx chuckled as he began to disappear into the clouds. “You can only play soldier for the wrong side for so long.”

Daimon’s rage and guilt consumed him. He had begged in prayer to Nyx to change the tides of this war, to tear down the rebel forces. Had offered everything he could think of in exchange for his help. But Nyx didn’t like deals—nor did he care to involve himself in matters of fae and humans. And even if he cared, Nyx was too weak to take on Vidaris. Vidaris grew stronger with each day, the war fueling her power as despair filled every living being in the realm.

He could put faith in his father to overcome Vidaris one day in their competition for the Vale. But it would mean swearing allegiance to the one being responsible for all this pain and suffering—not to mention Nyx was a dark god too. Daimon didn’t like to think about choosing between the lesser of two evils. If it could save the empire, he would trade himself a thousand times over. But he couldn’t risk being a puppet for the powers of darkness without a guarantee.

But the facts remained the same. He was an abomination. He would be forced into the role one day or another. And anyone bound to him would be chained to the shadows with him.

Every visit Nyx paid him reminded him of the day the god first revealed himself, when Daimon first found out the burden of his birthright. The day his life changed.

The same day he gave up his dream of ever returning to Evelina.