That is all it takes.
I’ve never had the luxury of my brothers’ powers. I cannot bend time. I cannot wrap someone in death. I cannot tear apart the realm around me. I’ve never needed those things truly, though.
I’ve always known exactly where to strike.
Now…I know exactly who I am striking.
The battlefield opens before me, and there he stands.
Our father.
He doesn’t look surprised, concerned, or anything other than his normal level of smugness. He’s always believed he knew how every story ended.
His gaze moves over me—assessing, judging—the same way it always has. While mine glances around the battlefield. At all the Defenders still fighting Dark Gods and Oblirians. Our friends who refuse to let us fail. My brothers who are destroying anyone in their path to reach this point with me.
And Mysenta.
She doesn’t make her presence known, but she can’t hide from me. Not behind a barrier. Or any power.
Silently, she’ll have our backs while we do what we’ve always needed to.
My strides carry me until there’s only ten or so feet between us.
“Amick.”
“Father.”
A familiar smile pulls at his mouth. It’s the same one he always offers me when he’s already decided what I’m worth in the moment.
“Still pretending you’re so clever.”
I tilt my head.
“I’ve never pretended.”
His eyes narrow.
“You were always the weakest. I still to this day cannot figure out how you became so much less than your brothers. Even Riven, with the curse Derivius put on him, is more useful than you.”
The words should hurt.
Once, they would have.
Now…they simply confirm what I already knew.
“I’ve never been weak. You’ve just never understood strength.”
A quiet laugh leaves him.
“And you, God of Knowledge, understand strength?”
“Yes.”
“And you think that somehow makes you powerful?”
“No.” My head shakes as I hold his gaze. “I think it makes me someone you’ve never learned how to break.”
His eyes harden as he steps toward me. The menacing glare he gives me would’ve had seven-year-old me shivering in my skin.