Total pages in book: 362
Estimated words: 347293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1736(@200wpm)___ 1389(@250wpm)___ 1158(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 347293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1736(@200wpm)___ 1389(@250wpm)___ 1158(@300wpm)
And dwelling on my time with Kolis—my time in Dalos—served no purpose when I needed to focus on figuring out what to do about the Primal of Death. He couldn’t be killed. Not without a god of his original Court to Ascend. And even though Ash carried embers of death, he didn’t count.
In the quiet, I searched the library of knowledge erected in my mind during stasis. There was so much information there—almost too much. Like I now fully understood why Ash and the other Primals and gods often fought with weapons instead of the Primal essence. Using that raw energy against one another impacted the realms, usually manifesting as severe weather events. The impact wasn’t always immediate, but whenever it was used against another, it would build and build until the realms could no longer contain the energy. The effect and consequences wouldn’t be as severe as Primals using it against one another, but there was still a price to be paid in blood.
And that was good to know. Obviously. But randomly realizing such things made it harder for me to focus on single items.
However, even if I could focus better, it wouldn’t matter. Nothing came to me. No weird feelings. No answers for how to stop Kolis without destroying the realms. Sudden knowledge didn’t simply pop into my head. There was just a void of humming whiteness and questions that only led to more confusion.
There had to be more to Eythos’s plan. He wouldn’t have risked the destruction of the realms by creating—albeit failing at—the only weapon that could kill Kolis without knowing something could be done about the embers of death.
But even if we figured out a way, it required using Sotoria. Again. And, gods, she deserved to be at peace. Not forced to be reborn yet again, only to be used as a tool with no autonomy. I’d lived that life, and I didn’t know if I could be a part of allowing another to do so. Especially someone who had already been forced to live far too many lives.
Kolis and what to do with Sotoria weren’t the only things I needed to figure out, though. I also needed to learn how to, well, act like an actual Queen and be the true Primal of Life.
To find the faith Ash had in me, within myself. To be better. Less monstrous and…knee-jerky.
And not do what I desperately wanted to do, which was find Ash and demand that we seize Dalos and lay waste to any Primal who stood against us—especially Kyn for what he had done to Ector, Orphine, Aios, and so many others.
Eather thrummed beneath the surface as I closed my eyes. I could do it, too. I could Ascend gods in their Courts to replace those who fell, ensuring minimal impact to the mortal realm. I could take control, releasing the Chosen and any draken Kolis had forced into servitude.
But that was the part of me I hadn’t slain talking.
Doing something like that would start a bloody war. Innocent gods and draken in the Shadowlands and throughout Iliseeum would die. It would spill over into the mortal realm, costing countless lives.
And as the true Primal of Life, none of that should feel as right as it did.
But as Ash had said, there was no changing this. And he was right. I didn’t need intuition to tell me there would be no abdicating the throne. There would be no period of adjustment. This was my present and future, and there wasn’t time to pretend that my entire existence and that of the realms hadn’t changed—or freak out in a spiral of self-doubt.
So, I needed to be…well, less like the version of me who could lie as easily as I could kill. I couldn’t continue being the temperamental, anxiety-ridden mess I was. Sure, Ash accepted all of that, even the part where I had attempted to kill him. He accepted me. But this was bigger than me—than us. I had the gods to think of now. The draken. Mortals. I needed to be better.
And standing in a bathing chamber with my eyes closed while giving myself the worst pep talk in history wasn’t where I should have started.
Taking another deep breath, I opened my eyes. The first thing I saw was the golden swirl of the marriage imprint on the top of my right hand. The sight helped to calm me. I lifted my gaze to the mirror.
Oh, dear.
My hair was a nearly silver, pale-blond nightmare. Wet, tangled curls and waves fell past my shoulders, brushing the curve of my waist. I was so not looking forward to attempting to brush out the knots. My gaze shifted to my face. I looked the same as I had before: freckled, stubborn jaw, slightly pointy chin, arched brows. But the pallor and bruises I had while in Dalos were gone.