Page 106 of The Crown of the Dark Prince
The answer surfaced before I could even think, rising from somewhere deeper than words. My power responded instantly to the realization, surging through me in an untamed flood. It was more than magic—it was pure, raw creation. I felt my very essence shift, less flesh and blood and more unbound energy.
“It makes me a Goddess,” I said, the words reverberating through the chamber like a ripple of thunder.
Chapter Thirty
Hyrax motioned toward the table, his hand brushing lightly against my back to guide me forward. “Sit. There’s much to discuss. Caldrius, leave us.”
“He stays,” I snapped, the authority in my voice surprising even me.
Both men stilled, turning to look at me with mirrored expressions of shock. Caldrius’s lips curved into a wry smile, and he inclined his head in acknowledgment before taking a seat at the table. Hyrax raised a brow, clearly intrigued, but he followed suit, summoning food with a lazy wave of his hand. The rich aromas of roasted meats and spiced wines filled the room, but my stomach churned.
I stayed rooted where I was, every muscle taut, barely trusting myself to breathe.
“I want answers, Hyrax,” I said sharply, the tension in my voice cutting through the air like a blade. “No more half-truths or skirting the questions. I want the truth. Now.”
Hyrax didn’t rush, slicing into the meat on his plate with maddening calm. “I suspect you already have many of the answers you seek. You know how you arrived on the bridge that day?”
The bridge. The memory surfaced, jagged and raw.
That wasn’t the day I’d lost my memories.
It was the day my memories began.
It was the day I’d been created.
“Did you know I’d control the Veil?” My voice rose, sharp and demanding. “Was that the plan all along?”
Hyrax chewed slowly, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “That was a surprise, actually. One moment I was pouring magic into you, and the next, you were gone. The Goddess of the Veil has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
The words hit me like a blow.Goddess of the Veil.
I, Theadora Moore, was the Goddess of the Veil.
Except that wasn’t even my name. Moore belonged to a man the world had assumed was my father because the truth was too impossible to imagine: that Hyrax, God of the Dead, had a daughter.
“Why now?” I demanded, my voice trembling with barely contained fury. Hyrax had taken Mortals for lovers before, that’s how his Descendant lines had come about after all. But he’d never fathered another God in his millennia of life. Why now?
Hyrax sighed, setting down his fork, shadows flickering over his face. “My wife is very ill, Theadora. She has been my companion for a millennium, and soon, she won’t be. It was her idea, actually, for me to create you.”
I stiffened, my stomach churning. “Pasnia’s not my—”
“The Goddess of Madness cannot have children of her own,” Caldrius interjected, his voice calm yet cutting. It was the first time he’d spoken since I arrived. He, too, hadn’t touched the food Hyrax had summoned. Instead, he sat perfectly still, his fingers tracing the rim of his wineglass as his dark eyes stayed locked on mine.
“So how did you—” My voice faltered as the pieces fell into place, each one more horrific than the last.
Each God had a signature weapon, accessible only to them.
Except for Hyrax’s Bident.
While the other Gods might not have been able to wield its power, I had felt its magic course through me in the Hyrax Archives. It had mingled with my own power, familiar and intimate, like it recognized my magic.
Because it had.
“Ciclopia’s final two beasts,” I murmured, working through the revelation aloud. “Tyron and Eckna. When Tyron died, you used one of his bones to fashion the Bident. There’s no record of what happened to Eckna, but after all this time…”
Hyrax’s expression didn’t shift, but his attention on me was suffocating.
“…the beast died a little over a year ago. Didn’t she?”
