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“Would that happen to any god I brought back?”
“That’s a good question,” Saion chimed in. “I’m thinking probably not? Like a god would have to be primed for it. Possibly already fated to Ascend.”
“Agreed,” Nyktos said. “Though, we can’t be sure when we don’t really even know how it was possible.”
“But why would it not have been possible?” I wondered. “Death is death. Life is life. Aren’t gods and mortals alike in that sense in a way?”
One side of his lips curved up, and every part of my being affixed to his faint grin. It faded too quickly. “But it’s not. A god is an entirely different being, and it requires a lot of power to do that. A lot.” He rose, picking up the bowl. “Did Taric or the gods say anything to you?”
I thought over what they’d said as Nyktos placed the bowl and towel on the desk, my thoughts going to those they’d slayed.
“What?” Nyktos turned back to me.
“Like you said after you learned about the ember, I think they were searching for me in Lasania. Or searching for the ripple of power,” I told him. “They said they’d find out if it was me these viktors were protecting.”
“Viktors.” Nyktos glanced at Saion and shook his head. “Been a long time since I’ve heard of them.”
“Same.” Saion frowned as he studied me. “But it kind of makes sense if she had viktors, especially depending on what exactly your father did.”
“They are…mostly mortal, born to serve one purpose,” Nyktos explained, sitting beside me. “To guard a harbinger of great change or purpose. Some are not aware of their duty, but they serve nonetheless through numerous mechanisms of fate—like being at the right place at the right time or introducing the one they’ve been destined to oversee to someone else. Others are aware and are part of the life of the one they’re protecting. Sometimes, they’re called guardians. In all the time I’ve heard of them, I’ve never known there to be more than one to protect any given person.”
“And do you think that the mortals killed by those gods were these viktors?”
“It’s possible. It’s not easy for a god or Primal to sense them. They’d have marks, just like godlings and descendants of gods have,” Nyktos explained. “You’d have to suspect that they could be that to even sense for it. And I…I didn’t.”
And why would he at the time? All he knew was that his father had made this deal. He hadn’t known what his father had done. “And by mostly mortal, what do you mean?”
“He means they’re neither mortal nor god. But they are eternal, like the Fates,” Saion said.
My brows lifted. “Well, that clarifies everything.”
Saion smirked. “They are born into their roles, much like a mortal is born, but their souls have lived many lives.”
“Reincarnated like Sotoria?” I asked.
“Yes, and no.” Nyktos leaned back. “They live like mortals, serving their purpose. They die either in the process of doing that or long after they have served, but when they die, their souls return to Mount Lotho, where the Arae are, and are given physical form once more. They remain there until it is their time once again.”
“When they’re reborn, they have no memory of their previous lives, only this calling that some may or may not figure out. It’s a way for the Fates to keep the balance equal,” Saion said. “But when they return to Mount Lotho, their memories of their lives return.”
“All of their lives?”
The god nodded, and I blew out a long breath. That could be a lot of lives to remember—a lot of deaths and losses. But also a lot of joy. If the Kazin siblings were viktors, did they know their duty? What about Andreia or the ones whose names I did not know? What about the babe?
What if that was what Sir Holland was?
My breath snagged in my chest. Could he be a viktor? He’d protected me by training me, and he never gave up. Never. And he knew about the potion. It…it made sense. And because it did, it made me want to cry.
I let my head fall back against the cushion. This was a lot to digest. It had been a lot in a short period of time.
“If you want to bathe or rest, there is time,” Nyktos offered.
I glanced at him, feeling a tug in my chest as our gazes collided. “I would like to stay here until we know if the Fates will answer. I don’t want…”
I didn’t want to go back to my chamber. I didn’t want to be alone. I had too much in my head—too much inside of me.
A silence fell over the room, and I closed my eyes. I didn’t remember falling asleep, but I must’ve dozed off. The next thing I knew, I felt a soft touch on my cheek—a poke. Blinking open my eyes, I realized that my head was lying on Nyktos’ thigh, and I was staring into the crimson-hued eyes of a young boy, maybe nine or ten years old with shaggy, sandy blond hair.
