CHAPTER SIXTY SIX

Rory's POV

"What the hell...?"

I eyed the thick cardstock in disbelief. What did this mean?

"It must be a mistake. Or maybe we are misinterpreting the drawing," Jesse suggested, but it was clear as day.

There stood my love, my royal, overlooking the destroyed remains of Vegas with the silhouette of a crowned man over her shoulder. A man. One man. His features were vague and shifted, hiding any distinguishing attributes that would tell me who he could be, but the message was obvious. A frantic script at the bottom of the page read, "Eternal Kingdom." This was the beginning of the end, and it started with Aria alongside a single King.

"Fuck."

The corner of the page crinkled in my tensed hand. This was huge.

The air rushed from my lungs and my chest tightened as if a million stones were placed atop it. I couldn't bring myself to come to terms with my new knowledge. No. Impossible.

We were both Kings, so how did she rule with only one? Did she choose one of us over the other? Or did one of us die?

If only our Oracle weren't gone.

Then again, it looked like he didn't know what he had envisioned either. His normally elegant writing appeared scratchy and strained, making me believe that the image stressed him as much as it did me.

Would I lose my Queen?

"We should tell Aria and Bastion," Jesse choked out, chewing on his thumb.

I flinched at his suggestion, turning to him with a snarl.

"Absolutely not," I hissed, catching him off guard. His brows furrowed in confusion as he sank into his office chair.

"Are you honestly suggesting that we keep this from them?" I straightened my back, pulling the Zippo from my front pocket and setting it aflame. "King,

 please, reconsider—" He attempted to interrupt, but it was too late. In a flash, the page went up in flames, sending plumes of smoke into the stale air. I watched in utter satisfaction as the image burned, as if the destruction of the sketch would somehow change the validity of the prophecy.

Once it was ashen on the tabletop, I took long, menacing strides towards our High Priest.

"I'm not suggesting, Jesse. I'm commanding. As King. You will not inform either of them of this damned foretelling. If you do, I swear to you, you will regret it."

I was trembling, sweat forming on my brow as I made my threat. What the hell was I saying?

I wasn't sure. All I knew was that I could not allow them to carry this burden. I would already be waking up every day wondering if Aria would stop loving me, or being worried that I would die and not be able to raise my children. They didn't need the fear that had been instilled in my heart the second I laid eyes on the scorched page. I could at least spare them that.

Jesse's eyes flashed with pained concern, lowering his head in submission. "Yes, King. As you wish."

I choked back the bile threatening to rise in my throat, crossing to his desk to grab the latest volume of James's journal in hopes of finding what we had been looking for in the first place. How would The Dark King be freed? And was there anything we could possibly do to stop it? What could we even expect if he were to arrive?

My eyes roamed the pages vaguely, stopping when I caught 'The Dark King' sprawled along the blue lines.

I lowered myself onto the plush armchair, lowering the book onto my lap as I began to read. It was written in the same chaotic script as the image he created, making me wonder if they were granted to him on the same day, the day he was killed. I swallowed, my Adam's apple caught in my throat, before soaking in the last message our Oracle had ever left us with.

"Date: August 4th, 2019

As was prophesied by the Opalescent Court Oracle, James Davis:

A cold storm. A harsh wind. They stand atop a high-rise, overlooking the city. The Sire has succeeded. The Dark King rises. The skies darken. Chaos. Chaos everywhere. Death and destruction, human submission, blood. There is no peace. There is no peace. The Kingdom must rise. The Queen must break. Love will be lost, love will be found."

"Are you getting anything?" Jesse asked, likely noticing my look of confused panic. I nodded, meeting his timid eyes with hesitation.

"I don't think we can stop it," I muttered, choking on coarse air.

"Why not?"

"It's inevitable. All of it." I eyed the pile of ash atop his desk with sorrowful eyes. We couldn't stop it. One of us would be lost.

ARIA'S POV

"You look extra tired this morning."

I groaned, wishing my glare had the ability to set Lysander on fire. I had managed to book the gym today for training, somehow convincing my two loves that the vampire god would be on his best behavior. He wasn't starting off so great.

"You know why." Hell, the guy was probably perched atop a stone, sipping whiskey and watching the whole thing. He chuckled deeply, hopping down from the storage bin and sauntering over to me.

"Oh, I sure do. I could've gotten rid of your hangover for you, though. Unlike your poor royal, I'm immune to your venom, darling." I cringed. Why did that make me so uncomfortable?

"Okay, can we stop talking about it and get started?" He let out a sensual chuckle, the slight swing of his step mesmerizing me for a brief second. It really wasn't fair that he was so beautiful to look at. For some reason, he came dressed for physical exertion. He was shirtless, wearing a navy pair of athletic shorts that barely gripped the top of his hips, his long sandy brown hair pulled up into a bun. His more slender frame reminded me of Rory, but something about his physique was enticing in a way I couldn't describe. Maybe it was a god thing.

His sudden snap caught my attention, and my eyes flickered up to his glowing blue ones.

"If you're done gawking, we can begin," he teased, not bothering to hide his amusement. I flushed crimson, jerking my gaze to the side.

"Okay, well, can you please put on more clothing? Your outfit is not conducive to my focus."

I could practically hear his inner glee at my complaint, but with another snap, I could see that he had modified his attire to gray sweatpants and a white tank top.

"Satisfied?" He smirked.

I rolled my eyes.

"Sure. Tell me what I need to know."

In his hand, he produced a basketball. "Holy- Did you just create that?" I stuttered in disbelief.

"No, I transported it from that shelf." He pointed behind himself where a metal rack was one ball short. "That's not important, though. This is just the object we are going to use as a target for your power."

I nodded, prompting him to continue. "Alright,

 first we will address what went wrong out on the terrace. You were doing an excellent job channeling your passion into the glass, so what changed?"

"My thoughts went south, I guess. I don't know, one second I was thinking about my Kings and the next I was thinking about death and suffering. That's when the glass came at me," I explained somewhat bashfully.

He tapped his chin with his free hand.

"Okay. It sounds like you're allowing your fears to steal your control from you."

I cocked my head. What the hell does that mean?

"Fear isn't a sentient being. It can't take power from me."

"That may be true, but don't underestimate it, either. Fear is the number one enemy of a passion deity like myself."

"Why, though? It's just a feeling."

"A toxic one. Think of it as a poison. If you allow it in, it spreads fast, making its way across your nervous system until reaching your heart, ultimately suffocating it. The same thing happened with Bastion, did it not?"

I thought back to the confrontation between Brett and him. He had me pinned with his massive wolf, and Lysander was right, I was terrified. That resulted in a violent burst of my new power.

"Okay, fair point. But how do I get myself to not feel fear? It wasn't like I could actively sift through the images that came to mind."

"It sounds cliché, my darling, but you have to conquer your fears. Those images will always come to you, but you need to focus on overcoming the dread associated with them. Don't fear death and sorrow."

I scoffed, crossing my arms.

"Don't fear death? How is that possible without becoming some sort of sociopath who doesn't give a shit?"

He chuckled at my phrasing, taking two more steps towards me, now close enough to reach out and touch.

"You just have to trust something, or someone, bigger than yourself."

His smooth and sultry voice sent a shiver down my spine.

"You mean, you?"

He shrugged, his eyes never leaving mine.

"You can use me, if you want. The important thing is that you remind yourself of the established truth of your destiny. If it comes down to fearing death, remind yourself that your victory has already been written. Trust that I am there to make sure your story reaches its happily ever after."

He reached up, taking a lock of my excessively long hair and lifting it to his lips. "You trust me, don't you?" His half-lidded eyes pierced mine, making me want to look away.

"Yeah. Of course I do."

"Good." Pride flashed over his face, but he corrected it, tossing the ball into the air and suspending it as he stepped to the sidelines to watch. Once he was seated comfortably on the bleachers, he allowed the ball to plummet back to the glossy hardwood. "Use me to conquer your fears, Aria. Trust in me."

.

.

.

We must've run the same drills a hundred times, and I had completely lost track of the time. I had practiced levitating the ball, as well as moving it to chosen locations around the court, and I was exhausted.

"Okay, sweetheart, that'll do for today. Feel free to rest."

Taking his glorious words to heart, I collapsed onto the cold floor, sprawled out like a starfish, staring at the fluorescents above me.

"Hey, I have a question," I stated after seeing Lysander take a seat beside me. He looked hesitant, but cleared his throat and nodded.

"Shoot."

"If you're a passion deity, does that mean that you also have memories that you relive when you use your power? In that case, who do you trust? What other kinds of deities are there? Who and what are they? Do-"

"Woah, slow down. That's way more than one question." He laughed. "To answer the first, of course I have memories. I've been around for millennia. Did you think I kept myself hidden away all that time? As for the latter, that's a lot of technical mumbo jumbo that doesn't really matter right now. Maybe once this all blows over I can sit you down and go through the history of the universe, but for now, why don't we focus on the ones that matter? Those being my sister and I, naturally."

Soaking in his words, I turned on my side to face him. He tensed at my sudden eye contact before lying beside me on the floor, one arm tucked under his head and the other finding my hand and taking it in his. The gesture was familiar, comforting, and I sighed in contentment. "Any

 more questions for me, dear?" He asked, his warm and inviting smile coaxing me into asking what had been at the forefront of my curiosity for quite some time now.

"Do you feel love like we do?"

His hand squeezed mine, his eyes flinching at the forwardness of my question.

"Of course I do," He muttered quietly.

"Oh." To be honest, I didn't expect him to answer. And if he did answer, I certainly didn't expect him to say yes.

"Oh?" He raised a brow curiously. "Why 'oh'? You almost seem surprised." He chuckled, his eyes squinting with amusement.

"I am. But I guess it makes sense that there would be other gods up there that you aren't related to that you could fall in love with." His brows furrowed at my assessment, and he interlaced his fingers with mine.

"I have never loved another god, Aria." His urgent gaze told me that this was something he thought important for me to know.

"Wait—"

"Aria, why are you laying on the floor?" Bastion's husky voice caused me to sit, my face flushed as if I had been caught doing something wrong.

"Oh, hi. We just finished training and—" I glanced down at the now empty space beside me. Damn it! Why does he always do that? I sighed, running my hand over my face. "Never mind. What brings you here?"

"I thought I should grab you for lunch." He responded coolly, extending his hand to help me to my feet.

"Lunch already?"

"It's like 1:30, baby. You've been at it for hours already. I'm surprised you aren't starving." As if on cue, my stomach let out a traitorous garble, making Bastion smirk. "I stand corrected. Let's go get some grub." A tickle on the back of my neck startled me, and I turned to see Lysander perched on the same storage cube he was on when I arrived. He offered me a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, but just as I cocked my head in question, Bastion's fingers laced with mine, gently guiding me to the door to the gymnasium.

Much like most of my time with the quirky Lord, I left with more questions than answers, the biggest one being: Who was the mortal that earned the love of a god?