Kolis tipped back his head. “He could change any mortal’s or god’s life for the better if he wanted to, in whatever way he saw fit. But the Fates did not see that as something forming bonds with them could influence.”
“That doesn’t sound fair,” I said after a moment. “It actually makes no sense.”
Kolis eyed me, some of the eagerness easing from his features. “Then you and I are in agreement.”
That was a disturbing thought.
“But to the Arae, it does make sense, and ensuring that emotions would never sway me was how they believed those who hadn’t earned their paradise or punishment would keep from being rewarded with such. To them, eternity was far more important than what they saw as a temporary life, despite how shortsighted that belief was.”
More like how long-sighted it was. It was like looking upon the forest and being unable to see all the trees within it. “And neither you nor Eythos could talk to them about this?”
“For what purpose? To change their minds?” Kolis laughed, the sound bordering on mocking. “You do not change the Fates’ minds.”
Okay, maybe he was right. What did I know? Absolutely nothing when it came to any of this. “But what does this have to do with what you just did with that Chosen?”
“Because that, too, creates balance. One designed only to be known by the Arae, the true Primal of Life, and the true Primal of Death,” he said. “A balance that was established when the Ancients created the realms.”
Headache forgotten, I stared at him. “I thought Eythos created the realms.”
Kolis’s smile was harsh. “He created some, but he didn’t create the realms—all the lands and oceans that allow life to foster and grow. The Ancients did. And contrary to what is told and believed, the Ancients were not the first of the Primals, nor will any Primal become an Ancient, no matter how old they become.”
I opened my mouth, but then it struck me. If the dragons—the ancestors of the draken—were here, something had to create them. It hadn’t been Eythos since they already existed when he’d become so fascinated by them.
“And they also decreed that there must be death and vice versa. Just as every action has a reaction, one cannot exist without the other. And it would not be as simple as there only being life if there was no death, or only death if there was no life.” Kolis’s eyes flashed. “So, there must always be the Primal of Death and the Primal of Life, even if nothing more than a spark of embers remains in them. Even if they are in stasis or…” His gaze flickered over me. “Or hidden within a mortal bloodline. As long as the embers exist in some fashion, and life is created and taken, the balance is maintained.”
“Oh,” I whispered, staring ahead but not seeing him.
He studied me. “I see you now understand the importance of life, even if it is undesirable to you. And that you see what I personally risk by not taking those embers.”
I nodded, but he mistook my shock. I’d always known what would happen if the embers of life were extinguished. It was what he’d unintentionally shared that shook me.
Kolis couldn’t be killed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The realization that Kolis couldn’t be killed occupied my thoughts long after he left, only allowing me a few hours of restless sleep—if that.
Kolis was the Primal of Death. He carried the true embers of Death.
Ash was a Primal of Death. He did not carry the true embers of Death.
And since Kolis had ensured that none of his Court were left to Ascend to the Primal of Death after he stole the embers from Eythos, he was it.
I couldn’t believe it.
With a dull throbbing in my temples that spread to my jaw every so often, I paced restlessly while Callum read from whatever book he had in his lap. Glancing at the porcelain pitcher on the table, I debated launching it at his head for no other reason than it would make me feel better.
But only temporarily.
Frustration dogged me as I made another pass in front of the door. Ash may not know who’d truly created the realms, but he and everyone else, especially the Fates, had to know that Kolis couldn’t be killed.
So why in the whole wide realm had Holland, a Fate, spent years training me to kill the Primal of Death? Why would Eythos put Sotoria’s soul in with the embers, positioning her, through me, to kill him? Especially when doing so would wreak havoc and destruction throughout the realms.
I had to be missing something.
Rubbing my temples, I walked from one rounded corner of the cage to the other. First, I’d learned I couldn’t kill Kolis because Eythos’s plan had gone sideways. Now, I’d learned that Kolis couldn’t be killed—
Stopping, I looked up at the diamonds in the center of the cage.
The Star diamond.
It could hold Primal embers. After all, The Star had been created to contain the embers of a fallen Primal.
I lowered my hands from my aching temples as I stared at the strange, almost milky light the diamonds reflected. My stomach soured. If I could get a hold of the Star diamond—and that was a big if—I doubted it could be used to hold a soul and the embers simultaneously.
But unless I’d spent my entire life training for something utterly pointless, the Arae must have believed they could get their hands on The Star again. It was the only thing that made sense.
“What are you doing?” Callum asked.
Tearing my gaze from the diamonds, I started walking again. “Praying.”
“Really?” came the dry response.
I turned to him. “What are—？” The embers in my chest suddenly thrummed. A Primal was near.
I took a deep breath, preparing myself for whatever Kolis had in store today while hoping he would bring news of Ash’s release.
You need to tell him that you will die without me.
My mouth dried as dream-Ash’s words floated through my thoughts.
Callum frowned, following my sudden shift in attention to the doors. “You feel a Primal?”
Unfortunately. “Yes.”
“That makes no sense.” Callum flipped his book closed. “Kolis is occupied.”
My brows rose as I eyed the doors. Interesting. “What is he doing?”
“If he wanted you to know, he would’ve told you.” Callum rose, picking up the dagger lying on the cushion.
Throwing that pitcher at his head was becoming more appealing with each passing second.
“What do you think you’re going to do with that dagger?” I asked.
“The same you would do with it.” Callum shot me a sideways look. “Just because you can’t kill with it doesn’t mean you can’t make it hurt.”
He had a point.
A muffled voice came through the doors, possibly belonging to Elias or another guard.
I looked again at the shadowstone dagger Callum held. “Should I be worried?”
“Every Primal knows better than to come near this part of the sanctuary.” The Revenant strode toward the doors. “Unless you misread what you felt, this Primal appears not to know better.”
“I didn’t misread anything,” I said as I glanced around the cage for a weapon even more useless than the dagger he held.
The truth was, if a Primal meant to do me harm while I was stuck in a cage, I was already dead.