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Rising, he called forth the remainder of the godstone. Larger ones nested in the home of the gods, but this one was no less powerful. And when it appeared in his hand, his entire being throbbed with the intensity of it. His eyes glowed as the room filled with the unmistakable shades of the ether, offering him nearly unlimited access to create whatever was necessary.

It almost felt like enough to best the gods, but he knew better. Only if he hadn’t severed and hidden the tip of the stone would he have been able to truly battle them. Allowing them to win today meant his complete destruction. Even his name would be villainized, his only true legacy that of his bloodline’s continued existence. But the lives of his loved ones were more important than his own, and so he’d chosen, and chosen well. He would be content in knowing his end served to protect them.

Revka snatched the stone from his grip, and all three began to shout when they noted his trickery. The storm that had so abruptly dissipated swirled into existence again with Darvol’s wrath. This time, the winds forced him to his knees, where he bowed his head and pressed his knuckles to the marble floor. Cracks in the foundation spread into great chasms as the palace overlooking the sea that he and Eterna had loved so much crumbled into dust and debris around him.

“I’ve handed over the stone in my possession. You’ve given your word,” he said, knowing they would hear him even through the cacophony of destruction.

“I agreed they would be safe for now,” Revka hissed, eyes pure white in her rage and indignation. She knelt over him, whispering in his ear. “But I can bend my words too. I curse your line, Illio. We will hunt your seed until it’s been wiped from the scourge of humanity. And until that final day when the rest of the stone is retrieved and your abomination of a bloodline has been wiped from the planet, the one who carries your magic in each generation will find only torment in the thing you supposedly prize above all else. They will suffer the pain of forbidden love.”

Then she stood, and with a cry of rage, she tore the remaining stone into thirds. “You have brought harm to the godstone. Without that sliver, this is not whole, and we cannot return it home until it is whole again.”

“We must hide it,” Zariah insisted. She floated over to take two of the jagged pieces, handing one to Darvol.

“But where?” he raged.

Zariah grinned. “With them.”

“Are you mad?” Revka snapped.

“Quite. But this will work. They are greedy, power-hungry creatures. If we give a piece to three different kingdoms, they will have each have power—minute to us, but gargantuan to them. They will never share it with one another, which will keep the pieces separate and spare us any attempt on their behalf to overpower us.”

“They would not be able to,” Darvol scoffed.

“Those of Illio’s own line with the complete godstone could pose a challenge,” Zariah said. “So we must watch closely and set a trap for all future generations—an Imrati tournament to force the hand of wielders of such caliber. And when we find them, we will destroy them.” She grinned at her own cleverness. Imrati meant the search in their old language.

“No!” Illio wailed. But the gods ignored him.

Zariah’s plan replayed in his mind as they dragged him from the land he’d loved back to the place of his birth.

By the time the gods unleashed their punishment, he’d realized his fate was not just death as the seer had promised, but the torture of knowing he’d cursed his love and his own line to unending suffering. And as his body slowly morphed into crystal, he clung to one truth he believed with all his heart.

Despite the torture the gods would put his descendants through, one day his seed would bring forth those same gods’ end by reuniting the pieces of the godstone and raining vengeance over them all.

One

Nyah

There was only complete darkness, the kind that swallowed you whole and stole your senses. I clung to my awareness—my sense of self. I still knew who I was, Nyah, daughter of the evil king Balram, fighter, magic wielder, friend, lover. Funny how I used to put “sister” first, but now that didn’t even make the list.

One minute I was determined against all odds to assassinate the king and save those I cared about—the next, my entire world was shattered. I’d had no time to process the truth, or what Princess Leuruna, the person I’d called sister, claimed as the truth—that I was only a shadow hand, an elaborate illusion, a piece of herself she’d accidentally created and set free to keep the extent of her magic from her—no, from our father.

If that were the case, how could I still have consciousness?

I sank to the ground and buried my face in my hands. A large part of me wished I had ceased to exist because then I couldn’t feel the pain of betrayal and loss. It was so overwhelming that I had somehow only now noticed the tears that streamed down my cheeks in rivers. The silence of the darkness broke with the shuddering gasp and wail I released. It throbbed in my ears, but the realization that I was sitting on something and could in fact breathe and make sound had me straightening and nearly hyperventilating.

Fire sparked from my fingertips as I lit the space around me with magic. What I found was an empty shell of smooth black.

“Where am I?” I screamed, but only my own voice echoed back to me.

How long had I been here? I had no concept of time. Curling up in a ball on my side against the smooth ground, I hugged my knees to my chest. Was this what happened to the dead? Was I even able to die if I’d never been alive? This couldn’t be my end. I refused to believe I’d be trapped in this void forever. Yet the longer I remained, the more panic bubbled into my chest, squeezing my lungs.

Rivven’s face filled my mind, memories of his touch, the warmth of his body as we moved together when we’d made love in the forest. But instead of bringing me hope or sanity, it opened a crater in my heart. I’d confessed I loved him as I faded from the world, and I’d left him on his knees, beaten, bloody, and at the mercy of the man we both despised.

This was all my fault.

Sobbing, I screamed and howled until my voice was hoarse. And when I could no longer scream, I wept silently, body shaking against the unforgiving ground.

“I’m sorry.” Leuruna’s voice alerted me to her presence, and I scrambled to my feet, anger warring with relief that someone had finally come.