That night, Aradia dreamed again—but it was not of shadow.
She stood in a place of light, endless and blinding. And before her stood figures cloaked in fire and stars. Gods.
"You defy the balance," one thundered.
"You wield fire not meant for mortal hands," another whispered.
"You and your Alpha cannot exist. You are too strong. You will remake the world."
Aradia trembled, her fire flickering weakly. "Then take it from me. If my power is curse, take it away."
The gods shifted, their faces hidden, their voices echoing. "We cannot. You are fire reborn. Eternal flame. It will burn until the end of time."
Her tears fell. "Then what am I?"
A voice softer, almost kind, answered: "You are choice. You are the bond that endures when shadow and death fail. You are not curse. You are promise."
She woke gasping, Kael's arms around her, his green eyes filled with worry. And for the first time, she felt not doomed—but chosen.