From the Lost Diaries of Iraklis Vidalatos
five centuries ago
I pray to the gods who remain that I haven’t damned my entire bloodline.
I hesitate even to put this into words, but my heirs must know the truth and heed my warnings. We must never forget the danger—the power—that lives forever in our blood. Even now, after everything, he whispers to me. I hear him as if he were among the shadows, scraping against his prison walls.
Thaleia tells me that it won’t always be like this. My sons, at least, will never have to know this torture. Xavlin’s strongest connection to our world will die with me, but I fear he will never stop searching for the power I have stolen.
Power taken through sacrifice.
Blood given freely and knowingly. My blood to weaken the greatest god our world has ever known. It could have been anyone, but I was the only fool stupid enough to step forward.
I couldn’t let my people suffer any longer, and I didn’t understand. The truth is, I didn’t care. Or maybe I cared too much. Either way, it’s too late.
I am the god-eater now.
We all are.