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March 28 - April 24, 2024
“Demis,” I whispered hoarsely, my eyes widening. “You’re a demis. A false god.”
A demis is not born but made when a god commits the forbidden act of Ascending a mortal who was not Chosen.”
Princess Kayleigh, first daughter of King Saegar and Queen Geneva of Irelone, joined Queen Ezmeria of Lasania and her Consort, Marisol, to celebrate the Rite and Ascension of the Chosen, marking
Three things that hadn’t existed before the Ascended ruled Solis.
“One born from a grave misdeed, of a great and terrible Primal power, with blood full of ash and ice.” Her words rattled her entire body, raising the tiny hairs all over mine. “The Chosen who will usher in the end, remaking the realms. The Harbinger of Death and Destruction.”
She’s a laruea.” “A what?” “A spirit.”
Seeing Reaver in his mortal form was already an utterly unexpected experience. But seeing him completely, absolutely naked whilst crouched on a pillar took the oddness of the situation to a whole new level. Reaver was a…blond. With his somewhat grumpy disposition, I’d conjured up a much darker-haired image of him.
“Her name is a shadow in the ember, a light in the flame, and the fire in the flesh. The Primal of Life has forbidden us to speak or write her name.”
“We shared the same crib more times than not. We took our first steps together. Sat at the same table most nights, refusing to eat the same vegetables. We explored tunnels and lakes, pretended that fields were new, undiscovered kingdoms. We were inseparable. And that didn’t change as we grew older.” His voice roughened, and he dropped his forehead to mine. “He was and still is a part of me.”
“No, she didn’t know me.” He folded the gauze, covering the wound. “Or at least that’s what she remembers.” My head tilted. “What does that mean?” “You’ll understand soon enough.” Malik tucked the tail of the gauze under the wrapping. “I have a feeling you will be reunited with your Queen sooner rather than later.”
“I could tell he worried about why I wanted to speak with you. Other than his family, the only other person I’ve ever seen him this loyal to is Casteel. And that kind of loyalty goes beyond any sort of bond—even a Primal notam.”
“I don’t believe they will fit me. I have broader shoulders.” “I don’t think so,” Kieran replied. “And chest.” Kieran’s arms crossed. “You definitely do not have that either.” “And my legs are not thin twigs that could snap under a breeze,” Reaver continued. “Are you serious?” Kieran looked down at himself. He didn’t have…twig legs or whatever.
“A viktor is born with a goal—to guard someone the Fates believe is destined to bring about some great change or purpose. I got the impression that not all are aware of their duty, and they end up being there for that person anyway—like the Fates bring them together. I think other viktors are aware and are involved in the lives of the ones they’re protecting. Once they die, either while carrying out their purpose or from any other cause, their souls return to Mount Lotho.”
Besides all of that, his name couldn’t be a coincidence.”
“‘A first daughter, with blood full of fire, fated for the once-promised King. And the second daughter, with blood full of ash and ice, the other half of the future King. Together, they will remake the realms as they usher in the end. And so it will begin with the last Chosen blood spilled, the great conspirator birthed from the flesh and fire of the Primals will awaken as the Harbinger and the Bringer of Death and Destruction to the lands gifted by the gods. Beware, for the end will come from the west to destroy the east and lay waste to all which lies between,’”

