Chapter 128 128
Denzel’s POV
“She will bless us with everything we need for this war,” Venessa said calmly.
Fabian scoffed.
“You’re far too confident for your own good,” he snapped. “The Morrisons may be direct descendants, but they are not demigods. They are shifters just like the rest of us. Don’t let your bloodline’s reputation inflate your ego, Princess. Because if this Silver Forest leader truly is a demigod, then we are well and truly doomed.”
His words were deliberate. Condescending. Calculated to provoke.
And they worked.
Unease rippled through the gathering, agitation blooming where resolve had just begun to take root. I found myself wondering again why Venessa insisted Fabian bore no dark veins at the corners of his eyes. He felt more like an agent of darkness than Elder Orville ever had. Sharp-tongued. Manipulative. Poisonous.
“I speak for the goddess as her representative in this world,” Venessa said, her voice tightening. “And I caution you, Fabian do not anger me. Or you will witness her wrath firsthand.”
The air shifted.
A breath later, the ground seemed to tremble beneath us.
“How dare you belittle my bloodline,” Venessa thundered, “and claim that our Moon Mother is dead?”
I turned sharply toward her.
She was no longer the woman standing beside me.
Her eyes blazed pure white. Her hair lifted as though caught in an unseen storm. Power rolled off her in suffocating waves. This was not Venessa.
Nyla had taken over.
A collective gasp swept through the crowd, followed by awe then fear. One by one, they dropped to their knees, heads bowed in reverence and terror. They begged for penance. Even Fabian stood frozen, stunned. Donovan knelt immediately. Fabian hesitated… then sank to his knees as well.
It was necessary.
They needed to see this to know the goddess was with us. To understand they were not abandoned. Without this revelation, Tremaine’s camp would have seemed like the only path to survival. Who would dare oppose a demigod without one of their own?
“I advise that we unite,” Nyla’s voice rang out through Venessa. “Build an army. Take the war to the Silver Forest bandits. Wipe every child and worshiper of Eshera from the face of this world. This is our land. Darkness has no claim here.”
The light vanished.
Venessa stood once more beside me no longer glowing but the people remained kneeling, heads still bowed.
They had not seen a representative.
They had seen the goddess herself.
“Rise,” Venessa commanded. “And let us conclude this assembly.”
They obeyed instantly.
Adoration and reverence filled their eyes as they looked at my wife. I couldn’t fault them. Our world was simple in its faith, and manifestations like this were rare. Sacred. A blessing beyond measure.
And I was the most blessed of them all.
She was mine.
However brief her time among us would be, she was mine to love, to hold, to challenge. Only I could defy her and survive it. Only I could touch her, see her vulnerability. No one else in this world had that right.
I remembered the day she was arrested. How she’d rejected me. Her fire. Her humility. Every trial she endured had been shaping her, sharpening her guiding her toward this destiny. Toward becoming a vessel strong enough to host a goddess.
“Return to your lands,” Venessa said. “Choose your finest warriors and begin training immediately. We will unite our forces and take this battle to the enemy. You have three months to prepare.”
Her gaze hardened.
“Until then, guard your territories. Aid your neighbors. And above all guard your hearts. Evil hides everywhere. The seed of corruption exists within every soul.”
They answered in unison.
Determination burned in their eyes now stronger than fear. Hope had been restored. Nyla’s appearance had changed everything. They knew now that they were not standing alone against Tremaine. They had a demigod of their own and she was unshaken, fearless, and fierce.
They would follow us to the end. I had no doubt.
Venessa invited them to remain and enjoy the refreshments King Jamar had prepared, saying they had earned it. With renewed purpose, they departed.
As the grounds emptied, Donovan and Fabian approached us.
“I must admit, Princess,” Donovan said, bowing his head. “I underestimated the Morrison bloodline. I once believed it to be… overly glorified. I was wrong. It is an honor to serve you.”
Fabian’s eyes glistened with tears.
“It is an honor to serve the Moon Mother’s representative,” he said hoarsely. “Had I known… there are many things I would not have done. I have much to confess.”
I felt a dark satisfaction stir.
I knew of his crimes. Of his selfishness. His hunger for power. It was only natural that fear drove him now fear of damnation, fear that the campfire tales passed down through generations were not myths after all.
“I hope you will hear me with an open mind, Princess,” Fabian said. “Everything I did was out of concern. Nothing more.”
I smelled his fear.
It was real.
But I remained wary. I didn’t yet know the full extent of his sins but I would. Soon. And whether this was genuine remorse or another desperate grab for relevance and power, I intended to find out.
The man was far too selfish to trust blindly.