As if recalling the gods who once roamed these lands, the wind whispered.
Ren Zian stood at the edge of the deteriorating temple, where old runes had turned to stone and lost their meaning over time, or perhaps they were simply buried beneath truths that no one dared to speak out loud any more. A relic of status he neither deserved nor desired, his black robe flung around him. The glowing sigil from the agreement made last night was still visible on his hand—a memory etched into flesh.
When the pain struck, he had whispered Lyra's name.
But now it wasn't Lyra who approached him.
Sariel walked lightly but purposefully across the altar covered in moss. Her phoenix-gold eyes were still as sharp as ever. They focused on him for a different reason than being a goddess or a consort. Something more hazardous.
Her voice was like water against fire as she whispered, "You're unraveling."
"I understand."
"You promised her something." Sariel's arms were folded. "But you bled for me."
He pivoted. His storm-dark eyes locked with hers. "I didn't organize it. You suffered harm.
"You held me in that spring," she added. "And when I asked you to stay, you didn't bat an eye."
He whispered, "I would've done the same for any of you."
She gave a bitter laugh. "No, you wouldn't."
It was there. Truth crackled in the air, not magic. The irreversible kind.
Sariel took a step toward him, her cloak grazing his. "Zian, you carry us all like chains. The innocence of Lyra. Ayasha's rage. My wounds. even the demand of the Crown. You believe that because you saved us, we love you?
He remained silent.
Slowly, her hand rose and touched his chest. "I love you because you tried to protect us even after losing yourself. You are dangerous because of that.
They were silent for what seemed like an eternity.
Then she made a move. Step one, step two. bridging the final gap between them. She pressed her hand to his jaw. She lowered her voice to a whisper.
Ren Zian, don't tell me lies. You sense it as well. Don't claim that you don't.
Yes, he did. He did, with God's help.
And still... "I can't afford to love you." Not all of you.
"You do already."
Sariel then gave him a kiss.
Not soft. Not lazy. Her mouth, filled with grief and desire, smashed his. As though she could halt time itself, her hand moved behind his neck and held him. He held onto her waist to prevent himself from falling, not to entice her closer.
She gasped for air as she withdrew.
She muttered, "You don't have to make a decision." "However, you must quit acting as though you haven't already."
He stumbled back, swallowing his guilt like a claw.
The ancient temple flickered behind them. Ancient and wild magic arose from the splintered altar. On the ground, symbols came to life and encircled the two of them.
Sariel's expression changed. "Zian, this is—"
She was interrupted by a blast of wind.
A rift split open in the sky from above. Spirals of celestial fire poured down from it.
"The gods are observing," he declared.
"No," Sariel muttered. "They're meddling."
The ground beneath his feet suddenly split.
It was too late when Sariel reached for him.
He dove in.
Her terrified face, glowing with the same divine power that had once chosen him, was the last thing he saw before darkness engulfed him.
He was giving in to the old accord.
The one from which he believed he had fled.
Something started to awaken deep below, where the gods had made agreements that no mortal should ever survive.