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Prologue

Prior to the creation of the Imrati

The godling kissed his beloved for the last time. As he did, he memorized every breath, every sensation, and every miniscule movement she made. For the seer’s prophecy had come to pass, and though each tear that flowed from her eye was a dagger to his heart, he knew this was the only way to protect her and their unborn daughter.

“Please don’t do this,” she begged, when he finally held her at arm’s length.

Internally he flinched, but he had to stay strong for them. He set a palm over his mate’s swollen belly, maintaining eye contact with her. “Each stolen moment with you has been worth a thousand deaths, Eterna. Our child will carry on, and that is what we must concentrate on now that she is on her way.”

“You’ve talked of creating a lifelike illusion, a…a shadow hand. Can’t you put him in your place and come with us?” The hope etched in every line of her face nearly broke him.

What a lovely thought, to run away and escape the vengeance of the gods he’d angered by doing his best to become human. But it would only result in the death of both her and the unborn child he already loved more than he thought possible. He shook his head, sliding his thumbs along Eterna’s cheek in a vain attempt to absorb her tears. “They won’t stop until they find us.”

“Are you sure they know? We’ve kept it hidden so well…” But as she turned her dark eyes away, he knew she felt it too. The child was what had caught the gods’ attention. He did not regret it. It was what they both wanted more than anything. Even more than each other.

“It is time, my love. You must stay hidden for her sake. Go now and take the child to the land farthest from the sea. It will call her back eventually, but for now, it is the best we can do. I’ve taken the seer’s advice and hidden the shard so well, even the gods will not find it.”

“But if you’d kept the godstone whole and not broken it, you could fight⁠—”

“Then neither of you would survive. And I would do anything to prevent that, for there is no victory in your deaths.”

The godling smiled as his wife straightened her shoulders and wiped at her face, donning determination like armor. He could not have been more proud.

She cradled her swollen belly and nodded. “I will run, Illio, but only for our child.”

And then she was gone through the portal the elves had crafted for them. The emptiness of the grand room threatened to swallow him whole. Even the view of the sea beyond suddenly seemed too vast, too empty. Living without her was impossible. Let them come, he thought, if only to end his torture.

It was all so useless. The wrath of the three gods was born of their fear of humans, though they would never admit such a fault. When power came from a source as delicate as a cluster of godstones, protecting it became paramount—that was if power was what you craved above all else. Perhaps he should have been content to live out his life with Eterna. But he could not bring himself to regret stealing the single godstone from their hoard. It had not only gifted humans with the ability to use magic—it had also allowed him and his wife to realize their dream of joining and creating a child. Now his legacy would live on if nothing else.

It wasn’t as though he didn’t feel it too—the way the shattered piece of the godstone he’d stolen pulsed with power, feeding his abilities. He knew the attraction of it, the draw. It had felt like sacrilege breaking the tip from the stone, but it was the only way the seer had glimpsed to save his family.

Some of the humans within proximity of the godstone were also gifted magic, though their abilities seemed to vary. He could only guess that something in their genetic makeup determined what and how much of the ether they were able to access.

Now, the gods had exactly enough power to approach him together one more time. Without the missing tip of the godstone he’d hidden, Darvol, Revka, and Zariah would be forced to cross the boundary from their lands one at a time, hereafter. And if the gods did not have access to their combined power so far from the source of the rest of the godstones, his wife and unborn child would have a far better chance of staying hidden. He knew without a doubt the arrogance with which the three acted would force them to waste that one chance now in pursuit of punishing him. They would assume they’d return with the missing godstone and have no further concerns about boundaries.

What felt like mere moments after the azure light of the portal had faded from view, the doors to the palace burst open. Illio took his seat on the throne and waited as three figures stormed the room, wind howling around them as lightning shot through the space, a manifestation of Darvol’s rage. Yet the godling remained calm. My family is safe, he reminded himself.

“You think you have the right to steal the stone for yourself?” The god Darvol had swollen to the size of a giant, long hair whipping around him like a thorny crown.

“Love gives me the right,” Illio answered calmly. The only sign of his emotion was the tightness with which he gripped the arms of the throne. “What right have you to withhold magic from their kind? Have you seen what we have accomplished?”

“They do not have the capacity to manage such power indefinitely,” argued Zariah. If he’d hoped any of the three would be sympathetic, she had been the one.

“You do not give them the chance,” Illio said with a shrug. “Yes, there are those with capacity for evil, but there are also those with capacity for good.”

“And you leave it to fortune’s wheel which ends up with the power?” Challenged Revka with a sneer. “Or in your hubris, do you assume any progeny of your own will only wield magic for good?”

“Enough,” Darvol roared, and the storm inside nearly tore the godling from his seat. “Give us the godstone you stole, along with the child, and we will leave you be.”

Finally, the godling stood to face them. He’d rehearsed this moment in his mind over and over. Gods—even himself as a godling—were bound by their word. “I will give you the stone in my possession if you agree to leave my wife and child alone to fend for themselves.”

“How dare—” Darvol started toward him, but Zariah placed a calming hand on her brother’s arm, her long hair floating out behind her in a gentle stream despite the chaos he brought.

“Without the godstone, they can do no harm to us,” she cautioned, and with the tilt of her head, Darvol straightened, and the storm ended, causing the sonorous room to buzz with sudden silence.

“Very well, keep your pets for now.” Revka stepped in front, arms folded across her chest. “Give us the godstone.”

It was time. Despite the seer’s assurance that this was the only way to protect his family, he could not exorcise the trepidation in his heart. He knew his end was near, and it felt like sudden folly to have trusted the word of even the most talented seer when it came to the fragile life he’d created. He’d had the gods’ word, but hadn’t he just manipulated his own? The stone in his “possession” was only a portion of what they sought. When they realized it… This momentary fear of retribution was perhaps the only time he regretted, if but for a heartbeat, having used the godstone to mix his magic with Eterna’s blood to create their child.