Born of Blood and Ash

“No,” Ash said.

“Good. You two deserve the joy of parenthood and its horrors.” A brief dimple appeared in a flash of a grin, and I thought about his children. Would he ever have more? “Besides, there are other ways to prevent…fuck, to prevent Sotoria from being reborn.”

“I’m sorry.” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Maybe we should’ve risked releasing her sooner.”

“You know what would’ve happened if we had.” He lowered his glass.

“At least she is safe for now.” Ash rubbed my back. “She’s not really conscious while in The Star, right?”

I steepled my fingers under my chin. “Not always.”

“Then, to her, it will be as if she is sleeping,” he said.

“Yeah.” I closed my eyes, absolutely hating that Sotoria was trapped in The Star, aware or not. It wasn’t fair. “We should still try to find it.”

“The Fates could’ve hidden it anywhere,” Attes said.

“Or given it to someone.” I thought about what I’d seen around Callum’s remains. “We need to find Callum.”

Ash’s eyes narrowed. “You think the Fates gave it to him? The last I saw of him, he was in pieces.”

“He’s her brother.” And my…well, whatever. I told them what I’d seen before the Temple collapsed.

Ash cursed. “Fucking Fates.”

“Ditto,” I murmured, looking across at Attes. “You were right about there being other ways to prevent her from being reborn. We’re having sons.”

Attes nodded.

Beside me, Ash sighed heavily and tilted his head back, the glass of whiskey resting on his knee. “I know what you are thinking.”

I pressed my lips together. Ash had envisioned our sons scrambling over benches in the throne room, playing with Reaver and Jadis, and then our grandchildren doing the same.

There would be no grandchildren.

I closed my eyes. We would have to ensure our sons never had children. Maybe they would be lucky and would never want them, nor whomever they ended up falling in love with. Not everyone did, and it would be for the best if they felt that way. But if they did want children? I shook my head. It wasn’t right or fair. Neither was what had been done to Sotoria.

“We shouldn’t rely on them never procreating,” Attes said quietly.

“I know.” Ash finished off his whiskey and set the glass aside. “We need to look for Callum. In the meantime, plan for the day that either fate or nature finds a way.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “She will not be born all-powerful. No god or Primal is. She will be vulnerable until Ascension,” he said, each word filled with distaste. “Fuck.”

I stared at him, understanding what he was suggesting. That would be a mark neither of us would bear because I didn’t think we would survive it.

“No,” I said, eather flooding my veins. I had to rein it back in. “If she manages to be born, she deserves to live.”

Ash’s eyes met mine. “I agree. I do.”

“Stop there.” I rose, begi

Attes’s brow furrowed, and he looked up at me.

“And if they do awaken here, then we will do everything we can to lessen the damage. And like those before us, put them back in the ground,” I said. “Because I will not be a part of murdering a child or an adult of my blood,” I said. “And I know you would not be able to live after doing something like that, Ash, no matter if it was carried out by our words or hands.”

“No,” he said quietly. “I would not.”

“Neither of us would.” I idly rubbed my lower stomach.

“I’m not going to disagree with you two on this,” Attes said, leaning back. “But there is also the fact that Kolis will wake.”

“And if that happens, I will put the dagger in her hand myself,” I swore, repeating what I had told Kolis. “One thing I’m not worried about is her being corrupted.”

“Is that why you were smiling before Aydun left?” Attes asked.

“Power and consequence come from the will of the beholder, right?” I stopped behind Ash, placing my hands on his shoulders. “Both of you were there when Holland said it. None born from my bloodline hungered for power. None will.”

“Well, at least we don’t have to worry about that,” Attes remarked.

“No. That’s one good thing.” I squeezed Ash’s shoulders. “There is something else Aydun said. She will be born in a shroud. That means she’ll be born mortal.”

Ash’s head tilted back. “You’re right.” His eyes searched mine. “But our sons will be born in the mortal realm.”

Damn it, I’d forgotten what Kye had said, but that wasn’t what I was thinking about. “If the prophecy holds true, she won’t be born until a long time from now, and the whole born of the same misdeeds thing? I have a feeling she will believe herself to be mortal. That she will be surrounded by them.” Letting go of Ash’s shoulders, I walked around the couch and sat beside him. “Maybe I’m completely wrong about that, but Aydun said she would call the name of the true Primal of Life.”

The skin between Ash’s brows creased. “He did.”

“Then we need to make sure no mortals know who the true Primal of Life is.”

He stiffened. “Sera—”

“They can believe it is you. I will be known as the Consort or whatever,” I said in a rush. “If my name isn’t known, she ca

“We don’t even know what speaking your name will do, but it sure didn’t sound like it would stop the prophecy if she didn’t say it,” he argued.

“For Aydun to mention it, it has to mean something.”

“Yeah, the same Fate who failed to mention the eirini,” Attes commented. “But she has a point. It could be something small, but it is something.”

Ash was shaking his head.

“The mortals don’t need to know about me. We can have other gods answer their summonses and have Rhain or Rhahar be known as the—”

“It will mean you are never known,” he interrupted, eather piercing his eyes. “And you have lived long enough without being known.”

“I know—”

“I ca

“Ash,” I whispered, cupping his cheek and blinking back tears. I knew why he wanted to deny this. And gods, it made me love him even more.

“You ca

Hearing that did make my stomach drop. I couldn’t deny it. Being forgotten was almost the same as never existing, and Ash understood how much it had hurt not to be known by anyone. How it had made me feel like a specter among the living. But something struck me in that moment. That was then. It wasn’t me now.

“You know me,” I said. “My children will know me. Attes will, and everyone else I care about will know me.”

The muscle in his jaw clenched against my palm. “That isn’t enough.”

“But it is.” I leaned over and kissed him softly, then rested my forehead against his. “You are enough.”