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August 23 - August 26, 2025
“You are the heir to the lands and seas, skies and realms. A Queen instead of a King. You are the Primal of Life,”
“What he means to say is that such a thing, a Primal of both Life and Death, is not meant to exist,” Nyktos said. “It would be unthinkable for the embers of both to thrive in one being. But if they could?” He gave a short laugh with a raise of his dark brows. “The kind of power they’d wield? It would be truly absolute. They could unravel realms in the same breath they created new ones.”
“It’s the piece of the soul—the spark—that all living creatures are born and die with. It allows them to love another not of their blood irrevocably, selflessly.”
“Heartmates usually only occur between two people whose unions are linked to some great purpose.”
“Thirty-six,” he murmured, trailing his fingers along my jawline. His thumb coasted over my bottom lip. “Still thirty-six freckles.”
Nyktos jerked his hand free, and he was…he was holding a fleshy, reddish-blue lump in his palm. Dyses looked down at his chest, his mouth gaping. “You will bow before her.” Nyktos’s fingers closed over the heart, destroying it in a burst of silvery eather.
“Rise for the One who is born of Blood and Ash, the Light and the Fire, and the Brightest Moon,”
And the great powers will stumble and fall, some all at once, and they will fall through the fires into a void of nothing. Those left standing will tremble as they kneel, will weaken as they become small, as they become forgotten. For finally, the Primal rises, the giver of blood and the bringer of bone, the Primal of Blood and Ash.’”