Page 75 of Rise of the Gods: Vardor's Destiny
I had finally forgiven Vardor for what he had done, but how could I be sure he wouldn't do it again? I couldn't allow us to bring sons into this world who would turn as greedy as Maezharr, raised by a father who did not honor his mate enough to trust in her powers. Lack of trust bred weakness, and weakness led to greed.
His lack of trust had brought this misery forth. Had Vardor not caged me, once he had weakened my brother's army, I would have defeated Maezharr for good. That was what I could not allow to happen again. I was tired of ruling alone. More thanthat, I was tired of missing him and of these feelings I couldn't explain. This longing deep in my chest that made it hard to breathe and got worse every time I saw him. I knew, deep down in my heart, I did not trust him. There was only one solution: I had to test Vardor.
We could not have sons as long as I was a goddess, nor could I test him in that form. There was only one solution: I had to become a mortal.
Whatever choice Vardor would make—and I prayed he would make the right one—I would have Vardor. At the very least, we would have a mortal's life span if he failed and eternity if he prevailed.
I did not want to live another breath without him, but the balance of the world hung at a precipice. It would either burn or prosper. If I became a mortal, the mortal's memory of Vaelora and Vardor would vanish, the same as it had of so many other gods over the history of mortals. They were fickle in their beliefs that way. Gods were only as strong as the people who believed in them.
And Malzhaedon was gaining believers.
Especially now, as a new millennium dawned on Earth. An era of wonder and ingenuity. People's beliefs in gods were waning, but not their certainty of evil. Maezharr was genius; he became the one thing men would never stop praying to. His powers grew, and my vision had shown me how terrible it would become.
Only the power of love could stop his evil army. Because as gods, what did we know about love? Of longing? Or suffering?
If I became mortal and bore Vardor's sons, the world would have something Malzhaedon could not foresee.
A new kind of gods.
Gods who were born, not made. Gods who knew how to love.
So I let myself be born.
And now, as I lay on the altar, as my mind realigned, as the golden light tried to pull me back into what I had once been, I understood something else.
I had changed.
In becoming a mortal, I experienced a mortal's emotions: dreams, hate, suffering, aspiration, and, most of all, love.
I loved Vardor.
Had always loved him, all along.
And I never knew it.
The truth burned through me, stronger than the light, stronger than the pull of divinity.
And I made my choice.
I forced the transformation to stop.
I would stay mortal.
For now.
I would carry our children. I would live this life a little longer.
Because I finally understood why Vardor had caged me.
Because love is not logic.
It's not balance or control.
It's madness, and risk, and sacrifice.
How long had she lain there, still and lifeless? I didn't know. I was rooted to my spot, watching her, waiting. Waiting and praying and forcing myself not to interfere with her will. I had to trust her.
This was the test.
