The uncertainty on the gods’ faces lasted less than a second. But Eleanor saw it. More importantly— So did Alaric. The bond pulsed sharply between them, carrying the same realization through both of them at once. The gods were not afraid of the Hollow King alone. They were afraid of what he became when he loved something. The thought settled heavily inside Eleanor’s chest. Because suddenly every piece fit together: the engineered loneliness, the obsession, the hunger for attachment, the destruction unleashed through grief. The gods had not accidentally created emotionally volatile weapons. They had deliberately designed beings incapable of surviving loss. Why? Because a weapon ruled by love could also be ruled through love. The Hollow King laughed softly beneath the chamber. “At last.” The mountain trembled. Black water surged violently around the altar while the ancient heart suspended above it pulsed harder and faster, responding to the rising emotions flooding the c
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