“Your father wanted to keep you safe,” Penellaphe restated. “But he wanted to save the realms. He wanted to give the mortals and the gods a chance. He wanted to give you revenge,” she said, looking at me. I shuddered. “So, this is what he did. He hid the ember of life, where it could be safe and where it could grow in power until a new Primal was ready to be born—in the one being that could weaken his brother.”
“I can’t be her. There’s no way. I’m not Sotoria. I’m…” My words faded as the rest of what she’d said broke through.
A new Primal was ready to be born…
“‘Born of mortal flesh, a shadow in the ember,’” Nyktos repeated slowly, and then his chest rose in a sharp breath. “What Holland said about no gods rising in power is true. That hasn’t happened since my father placed the ember in your bloodline. But you did it.”
“I…I didn’t mean to,” I started. “But I think that’s the least of my concerns right now.”
“You’re right. That is the least of our concerns right now, but it is what that means.” Nyktos turned to the Fate. “Isn’t it? It’s her.”
Holland nodded. “All life—in both realms—has only continued to come into creation because the Mierel bloodline carried that ember. Now, she carries the only ember of life in both realms. She is why life continues.” Holland’s eyes met mine and held. “If you were to die, there would be nothing but death in all the kingdoms and all the realms.”
The floor felt as if it were shifting beneath me. “That…that doesn’t make sense.”
“It does.” Slowly, Nyktos turned back. His gaze met mine, and he didn’t look away. He didn’t blink. “It’s you.” A sort of wonder filled his features, widening his eyes and parting his lips. “You are the heir to the lands and seas, skies and realms. A Queen instead of a King. You are the Primal of Life.”