Chapter 1
ARAN
It’s far too quiet for a room full of leaders.
They sit in heavy silence around the obsidian table, the air thick with tension and rising dread. Outside, Zeriavoss burns brightly with dawn—but in here, we sit beneath shadow. Waiting. Planning.
Sariya is the first to speak.
“They’ve raised an army,” she says, her voice like sun-warmed gold. “It was confirmed by my people not so long ago.”
Her hands are folded tightly in front of her. She looks composed, but her eyes betray her. There’s fear in them, just like in everybody’s eyes in here. Good. Fear means they finally understand what has landed on their doorsteps.
“Then it’s over,” Kaelith mutters, slouched in his chair like the meeting is boring him. “The most powerful beings have an army, and we still don’t have a queen.”
Lucifer exhales a long, amused breath. “You always had such a flair for optimism, Duskwalker.”
Kaelith ignores him, turning instead to Elyistria. “How long until she wakes?”
“As long as she needs,” Elyistria says sharply. “She’s not gone. Her soul is still bound here and wrapped in stasis until her body heals.”
Maelkar leans forwards, fingers steepled under his chin. “And what if she wakes as something else?” he asks softly. “People do not survive that kind of grief unchanged.”
Everyone falls silent. They’re thinking of Korithax. Just a week ago we all witnessed the unthinkable. Daisy collapsed in blood, and ruin and rage. The raw, burning scream that echoed through the halls of the palace, one so powerful it shook the foundations of every realm across the cosmos.
Vor’Khar shifts with a rumble of thunder, crossing his massive stone-like arms. “You want to talk strategy? Here it is. We stop treating her like a fragile child and start preparing for a fucking war.”
We all snap our heads towards him, each of us with a look of awe on our faces.
I don’t think anybody has heard him speak more than a word.
His voice is like the thunder itself, so deep and full of tremendous power.
The room stays silent for a beat, nobody daring to mention the obvious about the walking brute of a man finally giving us more than a single syllable.
“You mean a war we already lost?” Kaelith says, finally breaking the silence.
“You can join the wrong side if you’re so afraid, Kaelith,” Virena murmurs, voice low and cold. “I’m sure your death will be prettier this time.”
Kaelith’s jaw ticks. “I don’t recall dying, Virena.”
“Oh, that’s right. You just screamed like a dying bastard when Korithax set you alight for behaving like the filth you are.” She sneers.
I tense, awaiting a retaliation. Instead, he flares his nostrils and leans back in his chair once more, deciding against battling with the Mother of Mists.
Thank the gods. I say nothing. I’ve never needed to say much to be heard.
And that’s the thing about people—they always talk too loud when they’re afraid.
And right now? They’re terrified. They should be.
I glance to the side. Elyistria is watching me again, suspicion flickering behind her calm facade. It’s subtle, but something tells me she’s realising who I am, or who I am not. She’s not fully understanding, but she knows enough to be wary, which leaves a feeling of unease in my chest.
When the meeting dissolves, it’s not with unity—it’s with uncertainty. With fear. With the anxiety of not knowing what happens next.
Lucifer stretches his long limbs like a cat, already halfway to the door. “Well, I’m off to pretend I care. Let me know when the world finally ends.”
Vor’Khar leaves like a storm out the door, lightning crackling at his heels. Virena floats through it in a swirl of haze, and Kaelith stalks out, muttering under his breath, clearly still irked about his altercation with the Mother of Mists. That leaves three—Elyistria, Sariya, and me.
Elyistria steps closer, her icy blue eyes burning directly into my soul. “We need to talk.”
Sariya nods once, the wildflowers in her hair spilling petals as her bouncy afro shifts. “Privately.”
I nod to the guards once, in a silent demand to leave, the sound of the door clicking shut filling the tension-filled room.
“You’ve been withholding information,” Elyistria says without preamble. “Even now. Even in the face of this war, you keep secrets, Aran.”
“Yes,” I reply casually, though my body is tense.
Sariya’s usual warm and kind face is set like a storm, her jaw clenching. “You admit it?”
“I don’t see the point in lying anymore. You’d see through the facade eventually.”
They exchange a look. Goddess of Light and Magic, and the Goddess of Sun.
Together, they could crush entire legions with a thought, despite both of their powers not being quite what they used to.
Something shifted with their magic once Dasmyrin was eradicated.
Like a part of them died with her. Neither of them has said it outright, but I’ve seen it.
I’ve seen the way Elyistria can no longer conjure magic the way she once did.
She does not breathe magic into beings anymore.
Just like I suspect Daisy, despite harnessing Dasmyrin’s power of flame, cannot conjure worlds or realms anymore.
Neither of them move as they stand silently assessing me.
On a shaking exhale, I reach into my jacket and pull out the thick book that feels like it’s burning a hole into my side the more I keep it hidden.
Leather—bound in scales darker than night and etched in runes—pulses with faint light in my slightly trembling hands.
I set it down gently on the table in front of us. “This is what we need.”
Sariya looks down at the book in confusion. “And that is?”
“A grimoire,” I say. “Saerathi-born. Written before this universe even came to be.”
Elyistria steps forwards, reverent but wary. “Where did you get this?”
“That’s not the question you should be asking.”
“Then what is?”
“Can you trust me enough for us to use it?” I ask.
The silence that follows is sharp, telling me what I feared. They don’t trust me. At all. I can’t blame them, after all, I have just handed them a book older than even themselves and asked them to blindly have faith in me. I try to explain, but Sariya speaks before I can.
“You are not who we thought.”
I meet her gaze. “No, I’m not. But I promise you, I am exactly what you need.”
A sharp knock echoes into the silence that’s settled over the war room. Then another, urgently pounding.
“Enter,” I call, voice taut.
A palace guard throws open the door, his chest heaving. “It’s Queen Daisy. She’s awake—”
Elyistria is already moving, Sariya close behind as they both push towards the guard in urgency, their elegant gowns swishing behind them.
“She won’t let the healers near her,” the guard continues. “They said she’s… she’s not herself. She’s screaming. Her hands—gods, her hands are lit with uncontrollable fire.”
We don’t wait for more information. I grab the grimoire, shoving it back into my coat, and follow the goddesses as we practically run through the halls of Zeriavoss.
The air around us trembles with gathering energy.
The whole palace feels on edge, a thickness surrounds the atmosphere like it knows something catastrophic is brewing.
By the time we reach her chamber, the hallway outside is rife with panic.
Healers, guards, and servants are all scattered like debris.
Someone is sobbing against the wall, shaking with obvious fear as a healer comforts them.
The air around the door shimmers with residual heat.
Her panic-stricken voice comes from the other side of the door, her fear palpable.
“Get the fuck away from me!” Her voice is cracked raw. Broken. I’ve heard her scream in agony, in grief—but this? This is something else entirely. This is the sound of a soul that has torn entirely open.
Elyistria pushes the doors open, and heat slams into us like a wave.
She’s there, pressed against the far wall, hair a wild halo of gold and silver streaks, billowing on a phantom breeze.
Her hands are wreathed in pure white fire, sparks of fire spurting from them, untamed like her emotions.
Her eyes are rimmed red from crying, her gown clings to her skin, soaked in sweat.
She’s a storm barely caged in flesh. The servants inside cower, too afraid to move, too afraid to poke the beast that stands in front of them.
Elyistria lifts a hand to stop me as I step forward. “No. She’ll hurt you. She won’t mean to, but she will.”
I watch as she takes a cautious step inside, myself and Sariya standing at the threshold. The Goddess of Light moves cautiously, a gentle smile on her face as she approaches the broken queen.
“NO!” Daisy shrieks towards Elyistria. “You betrayed me! Everyone has betrayed me at some point in my god forsaken life!”
Elyistria doesn’t even flinch. “I didn’t betray you, Daisy. I was young. I was afraid. I didn’t know what to do back then, and I can only apologise. I’m sorry. They threatened to kill me too, if I came for you. I couldn’t help if I died as well.”
“You didn’t know I would come back. That’s impossible.” Daisy seethes, white fire twisting higher from her upturned palms.
“No,” Elyistria admits, her voice quiet and steady. “I didn’t. But I had a strong feeling a soul like yours could never truly be gone. And I was right. I’m trying to fix my mistakes, Daisy. But I can’t if you don’t let me. I’m here now.”
Daisy’s lip trembles, her fire pulsing violently. “It’s too late. Korithax. Talia,” her voice breaks. “They’re gone.”
“I know,” Elyistria says, inching forward. “I’m sorry. But I need you, Daisy. Everyone does. We cannot win this war without you. Korithax needs you to be strong for his people. Your people.”
Daisy trembles. “I don’t want to be strong. I want to go home. I want to go back to my boring life. I don’t want any of this.”
“I know.” Elyistria sighs, taking another step forward.
Daisy’s fire flares higher. “Take. Me. Home.” She grits out.
I can’t stay quiet anymore. I move beside Elyistria, ignoring the sear in the air. “Don’t you want to watch them burn for what they did to you? To Talia? To Korithax?”
Her eyes snap to mine. “Don’t speak his fucking name,” she snarls. “You should’ve saved him. You should’ve taken him when you pushed Ezra through that portal.”
“Daisy…”
“No. I blame you too, Aran.”
I take the hit, letting it land a blow. And gods it does. It hits painfully, straight into my heart. I can’t even argue against it, because she’s right. And that’s what hurts the most. I didn’t protect him. My entire life’s purpose was to guide and protect him, and I failed.
“I blame me too,” I whisper, blinking away the blur from the tears threatening to fall. “I should’ve known. I’m sorry. He was more than my king, Daisy. He was my brother.”
Despite my best efforts to stay composed, my voice cracks and a tear slips down my cheek before I can stop it.
I swallow hard, steadying myself. Daisy doesn’t need my grief right now; she needs my strength.
She needs someone strong beside her who can hold her up when she’s crumbling.
Korithax did that before he died. So it’s my duty to do it now. For him, as well as her.
I straighten, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “Whether you want this or not, the war is coming. With or without you. Don’t think for a moment they’ll leave you alone if you run.”
I take another step forward, steadying myself, ensuring she hears my words loud and clear. “They know who you are now. And they will never stop, Daisy. Peace is no longer an option. We either win this war together, or we all die.”
Her flames flicker for a brief moment. I watch her carefully, my eyes darting back and forth between hers and her palms. I mentally exhale as her flames lower.
She staggers back on shaking legs, collapsing against the wall.
Her body slides down until she’s sitting, knees to her chest, arms trembling as they wrap around her legs. Slowly, her fire fades to nothing.
“I didn’t know how to be what he needed,” she whispers.
“You already were,” I tell her, my voice breaking all over again. “But now, you need to become what he believed you could be.”
“I’ve barely been awake an hour. Do I not even get chance to breathe? To grieve? My husband and best friend were just murdered in front of me. I just watched my entire life change in a flash, and you’re here telling me I need to become something my dead husband believed I could be?” she snaps.
I flinch slightly at the way her voice escalates with each word.
Starting off broken and ending in a high-pitched shriek of agony and rage.
I can see how hard she’s holding down the power thrumming beneath her veins.
But I can also see her hair raising again, the air around her vibrating with barely contained fury.
“War does not wait for grief, Daisy,” I reply softly.