Three weeks after my birthday, the Realm was still bleeding glitter. I'd found it in my boots. My pockets. In places glitter should never survive. Arbor still sneezed sparkles every time I opened a damn window. And yet, Asha had recovered. She walked like a woman unbothered, while I was still vacuuming cosmic herpes out of my hair.
Then November arrived. Which meant Maximus. God of Excess. Patron saint of hangovers. A man who made me look restrained. His birthday wasn't a party. It was a month-long bacchanal with mandatory worship, the kind that left kingdoms bankrupt in wine budgets. I'd been here for… two days? Four? Time was a drunk in Maximus's realm. I'd already seen a minotaur pole-dance, a fae queen start an orgy over tequila, and Maximus himself strip-duel Tairochi and lose. Twice. I was bored. Which was dangerous. I was this close to summoning chaos just to see who survived.
My brain stopped, she walked in. Time didn't stop. It bent. Like reality folded at the knees and whispered: Yes, my Lord, here's the main event.
Asha.
Her skin was painted in molten fire, swirls of gold, red, orange like living flame. And her outfit? White. Barely. Straps crossing her breasts like an offering, a tight skirt that was technically fabric but mostly blasphemy. Boots up to her thighs, six-inch heels that could murder me and I'd write her thank-you poetry about it. She didn't shimmer. She blazed. I, God of Chaos, Devourer of Illusions, Professional Smirk Enthusiast, forgot how to breathe.
Someone behind me choked on their wine. Someone else whispered, "Is that a goddess of war or seduction?" And me? My jaw dropped like a mortal peasant seeing fire for the first time. She felt me staring. I know she did. My gaze was fire on her skin. But she didn't look at me. Not once. Not even a flicker. That was the cruelty. Because I knew she knew. She loved this game.
She walked like temptation sculpted in bone and heat. Confident. Controlled. Divine. She kissed Tairochi's cheek, and he smiled. An actual, full smile. That bastard never smiles. Luxor nearly spilled his wine. Ahyona clapped like it was a runway finale. Maximus raised his goblet mid-flirt and looked like someone had just handed him his own reflection. Still, she didn't look at me.
She laughed, touched arms, brushed shoulders, leaned in close to Luxor, Luxor, of all gilded mannequins, and my hands curled so tight around my glass it cracked. Maximus stood, booming, stroking his own thigh while announcing, "TO ME!" like anyone had forgotten who we were here for. He was waxing about glory, thighs, passion, whatever. Background noise.
Because Asha tilted her head when she laughed. Pressed two fingers to her lips before smiling. Played with her hair. Every flicker of movement pulled me apart like string unraveling. My heart did a pathetic little skip. A skip. I was a god, and I had the cardiovascular control of a teenager seeing his crush at the high school prom.
Then came the children. Gods, the children. Maximus's spawn paraded out like wine-stained heirs to nothing, one after another. Thalia, Cassius, Lucia, did he breed armies in his spare time? I lost count after ten. I am pretty sure I have slept with a few of them. Asha clapped for them. Clapped. I nearly flipped the table. When she shifted her hip, her tiny little skirt pushed up, just enough to flash the painted curve of thigh. I nearly combusted.
Luxor stood to toast. Golden boy. Bronze skin, perfect voice, gleaming smile. He toasted her. She smiled back. Dimples. Dimples. I didn't even know she had dimples. I wanted to set the Realm on fire. Fill those dimples with my tongue. Feel? No. Fill... mmm. She touched his arm. Laughed. Raised her glass. I stopped breathing for three seconds.
Leyla stood, the goddess of shadows, elegance incarnate. Even Maximus blinked like she leaves her cave? She whispered about mystery and surrender. Asha… smiled at her. Gave her that respectful, glowing smile. I swear I saw Leyla twitch. Twitch. A reaction from Leyla. I considered self-combustion.
Ahyona stood tall in her adolescent form, wild and radiant. She raised a carved gourd cup high, the surface etched with tiny moons and weeping willows. "To emotional indulgence," she grinned. Then tilted it, letting a single tear fall, It fizzed. Glowed faintly. She sipped it like it was the most sacred thing in the world.
Asha clapped. That was it. My soul packed its bags. Filed for divine relocation. Because three weeks after my birthday, after every wild thing I'd seen, after centuries of indulgence and adoration, It wasn't Maximus's excess that ruined me. It was her.
Then Vitaria rose beside Maximus, smoothing her gown, and the room shifted. She turned, and the curve of her stomach was unmistakable. Pregnant. Again. Maximus puffed up instantly, throwing an arm around her like he'd personally invented fertility. "Three in five years!" he roared, grin splitting wide. "Even Excess knows no greater joy!"
The hall erupted in cheers, goblets lifted, laughter spilling bright as wine. And Asha… she smiled too. Soft. Polite. But I felt the bond tug, just enough. Just enough to remind me that this was the one thing she wanted and had been denied. Her fingers brushed the stem of her glass, her fire-dappled skin flickering for the briefest breath before steadying again. She clapped, even laughed at Maximus's bragging. But I saw the ache hiding under the glow. I ground my teeth, annoyed at Maximus for bellowing his joy like a man who'd never known silence. But beneath the irritation, I knew one thing with absolute certainty: no matter what it took, I'd make that happen for her. One day, she'd have more than polite applause. She'd have joy that was hers. I stood ready to walk to my Temple to worship her, to show her what she meant to me, when Ravina stood.
A toast. I barely noticed her rise. My eyes were still fixed on Asha. The way her painted fingers curled delicately around the stem of her glass, the way she laughed, bright, flirty, meaningless, at something one of Maximus's spawn said. The sound filled me like honey poured straight into my ribcage. She glowed. My flame. My fire. My everything. Mine. Stalking closer to her.
"Here is to the gods who still have their children… and to those who don't." The words came slow. Measured. Poison sharpened into a blade. "May our mistakes not end in murder next time."
The room stilled. The air stilled. Even the music seemed to skip. Ahyona faltered. Maximus blinked like someone had farted during his soliloquy. And me? My heart dropped. Cold. Heavy.
Asha turned. Her fire-painted skin caught the light. Her beautiful eyes narrowed, soft with confusion. "…What did you say?"
The traitorous bitch, Ravina, smiling, smug, serpent Ravina, delivered the final blow. "Oh, you didn't know? I figured he told you everything. How he destroyed Aerion's realm. Especially the part where he killed Orion."
Glass shattered somewhere in the crowd. Maximus let out an uneasy laugh, but no one joined him. The words killed Orion hung in the air like blood in water. Finally, painfully, Asha looked at me. Not playfully. Not with teasing. Not even in anger. But in shock. Her joy, my favorite thing about her, was stripped away in an instant. Her mouth parted, silent. Her eyes searched my face like they were trying to make sense of me, like I was a stranger wearing my own skin. My world shrank to her. She wasn't angry. No, it was worse. She was hurt. By the gods, it gutted me.
Because this wasn't about whether Orion deserved it, or what Aerion had done, or the armor of justification I'd wrapped around the act. It was about truth. The truth was, I hadn't told her. Her eyes said it all: This isn't just about what you did. It's about what you didn't say.
Ravina sat down like she'd just scored a standing ovation. Smug smile. Wine glass raised. And then, oh, the audacity of it, she looked me dead in the eye. Winked.
I moved. Didn't think. Just went. Through stunned gods and drunken voyeurs. Through silence sharp enough to cut me. Asha had stepped away from the crowd. Not running. Not fleeing. Just… still. The way you go still when you realize the ground beneath you is glass—and it's cracking.
"Asha-" my voice broke on her name. "I, I can explain. It's not what... you don't understand... he wasn't..."
She turned to me. It hurt. Gods, it hurt. Because she wasn't cold. She was calm. Gentle. Kind. Which made it feel like a blade pressed to my throat. She drew in a soft breath. Offered me almost a smile. Not forgiveness. Just… grace.
"I just need time to process that information, Malvor." That was all she said. No accusations. No venom. No rage. Just time. I, god of chaos, devourer of lies, stood there, mouth opening, closing, chaos swirling uselessly in my chest. Nothing I could say wouldn't make it worse. So I let her have the space. Because I couldn't take that from her too. She turned. Walked away .Leaving me in the glitter-stained wreckage of a party that suddenly tasted like ash. I didn't follow. Couldn't. Because what would I even say? She didn't owe me forgiveness. She didn't owe me anything. And still, she gave me grace enough to drown me.
The party stumbled back to life around me, Maximus bellowing, nervous laughter, glasses clinking like nothing had broken. But I was made of glass now. Brittle. Splintering in places I didn't know could break. I'd fought monsters. Defied gods. Built empires of illusion just to feel wanted. Just one quiet sentence from Asha gutted me clean through. I just need time.
Not rejection. Not condemnation. Truth. And truth weighed more than any punishment the Pantheon could deliver. I turned away. Every step deliberate. Every movement aching with the effort of pretending I was still whole. A piece of glitter drifted down from the ceiling, mocking, pathetic, still trying to sparkle in the wrong kind of silence. I caught it. A star shape. Harmless. Forgotten. Just like me. I crushed it in my fist. Still, it shone just to mock my failure.