The temple had never known silence like this.
Not even when prayers ceased. Not when lightning cracked the sky. Not when Lena bled in her sleep from memories too heavy to bear.
This silence was different.
It was the quiet that follows when gods are afraid.
Lena stood at the heart of the sanctum, surrounded by firelight that danced without heat. Her palms tingled. Every breath felt like she inhaled starlight and exhaled smoke.
She had remembered.
Not everything. Not yet.
But enough to understand one truth:She had been made into a weapon — and now they feared her not because she might destroy the world, but because she'd once saved it by defying them.
The truth of her past life clung to her skin like ash: she had burned alone to save what they would've sacrificed. And then, instead of honoring her, they erased her, buried her name in holy lies, and called it justice.
Lucien sat nearby, watching her like a man watching a storm roll over the sea, unsure whether to sail into it or tie himself to the mast and drown.
"You should hate me," Lena said quietly, voice raw. "You should've hated me from the moment I woke."
Lucien didn't answer.
She turned to him. "Did you know? That I was the one who burned Solis to stop the Devourer?"
Lucien nodded once.
"For how long?"
"Since the first time you looked at me and didn't remember the smell of ash."
Lena's lips parted. Pain twisted behind her ribs. "And you still chose to love me again?"
Lucien stood, the light of a dying fire catching in his eyes.
"I never stopped."
Far above the mortal realm, in the spires of the Celestial Court, war brewed.
Not of swords.
Of loyalties.
The gods were splitting.
Three had already withdrawn their judgment, siding with Lena — or rather, siding with the truth of what she had been.
The Goddess of Memory.
The Lord of Twilight.
And now, shockingly, the Weaver of Fate.
She appeared in Lena's chamber without warning.
One moment Lena stood alone. The next, the air folded inward, and a tall, willowy woman stepped through a tear in time, her robe woven from strands of possibility.
"You have a choice," the Weaver said.
Lena didn't flinch. "Do I?"
The Weaver smiled softly. "Fate isn't a cage. It's a road. But you're the one who chooses to walk or turn back."
"What do you want?"
"To offer you a seat among us."
Lena stared at her, stunned. "You… want me to become a god again?"
"You always were. You just forgot your throne."
"Why now?" Lena asked, wary. "After centuries of silence? Why not kill me like the others want?"
"Because I've seen the thread," the Weaver said. "And in one ending, you burn us all. In another… you save us again. But this time, not alone."
Her eyes flicked to the hallway.
To Lucien.
Lena's throat tightened. "You'd really let me return?"
"Only if you choose it freely."
"And if I refuse?"
The Weaver hesitated.
"The others will not."
Later that night, Lena stood beneath the temple's vault, hands pressed to the ancient altar. Her power pulsed beneath her skin like a heartbeat she couldn't silence.
She saw the world differently now.
Everything was woven.
Every lie, every truth, every betrayal.
She saw herself, not as a girl caught in something beyond her, but as a force that had once held realms together.
Could she do it again?
Did she want to?
Lucien approached, silently. He'd watched the Weaver depart and had not interrupted.
"I need to show you something," he said.
He led her through a hidden chamber beneath the temple — a vault sealed by divine blood.
Only Lena could open it.
Inside lay a weapon.
But not of war.
It was a mirror.
Framed in dragonbone and gold, it pulsed with old, sacred light. The Mirror of the First Flame.
"This showed your original death," Lucien said. "The one the gods never speak of."
Lena stepped forward.
And saw it.
Herself, kneeling before the gods, begging them to let her seal the Devourer.Their refusal.Their cowardice.And then—her choice. Alone. Bloody. Blazing.
A scream tore from her lips, and fire erupted around her.
Lucien shielded his face, but didn't move.
And in the flames, Lena remembered the final words she spoke before she died the first time:
"If I burn, I burn with purpose.But if you let the world die in fear, may my name haunt your heavens."
When the fire died, Lena stood glowing, unafraid.
"They lied," she said. "They all lied."
Lucien stepped forward. "What will you do?"
She turned toward the sky.
"I'm done running."
Across the court, the gods felt it.
A tremor in the weave.
The Ash Queen was no longer sleeping.
And now… they had to choose which side of history they would kneel to.