Because the truth was there were no gods. The energy pulsing through the stone beneath her fingers wasn’t Taetanos, god of death—it was shadow magic. Pure and simple. There was no Aethios, only spirit magic like Cassi’s, like Lyana’s, the strongest kind of all. And Erhea, the god of love, revered by the songbirds? That beating red stone wasn’t a heart. It was the thing those of the world above feared most—fire magic.
