Page 82 of Drawn into Oblivion

“I’m merely reclaiming the part of myself I gave you. You carried a smaller piece than my champion and woke first.”

She nodded, but a question lingered in the back of her mind. Do I dare ask it?

“Only if you truly wish to hear the answer.”

She had forgotten he could read her mind, and blushed as she said, “I do, but wanting to know something even the priests could never fully explain seems so impertinent.”

“You’ve earned the answer.”

She took a deep breath. He knew, of course, what she was about to ask, but she voiced her question anyway. “Who was the Damned One?”

“He was my mistake, and the plane known as Oblivion was once like your own. I granted power to a group of my children so they could use it to rule wisely and fairly. But the third emperor of that world turned against me. He siphoned power from others and experimented with magic with the goal of taking my place.”

Though the Divine One spoke calmly, sorrow tinged his words. His sadness irritated her throat and stung her eyes. She couldn’t look away from the shadow of his hood.

“He hid his activities from me, but his daughter learned of his treachery and sacrificed herself to reach me here in the Garden. Despite that, I was too late to stop him. Having absorbed the power of his entire court, he sealed off his plane and declared himself a god. But of course, the power he’d stolen wasn’t enough, and his world began dying.”

A thousand more questions swirled in her mind, such as how the Damned One had ever accomplished such reality-bending magic, but even a vague explanation was knowledge too dangerous to possess, and she didn’t dare interrupt the Divine One.

“I created a new world, and the emperor’s daughter became its empress. But, ever lustful for more power, he invaded, and all I could do to strike at him in his plane was negotiate the rules of a new, proxy war, one fought by our respective champions. The rest, you know.”

Mai stared at the deep shadow over his face with wide eyes. She was too stunned even to absorb the full meaning of what he had revealed. That Empress Suzu had been the mortal daughter of the Damned One, and had fought to undo her father’s evil. That the greed of one powerful man had caused so much harm. She wanted to know more—much more—but refrained from asking. Somehow, she knew the Divine One would not answer.

She was still trying to untie her tongue when he said, “I have one final blessing to bestow upon you before we part.”

“Wha—but this isn’t goodbye, is it? I’ll see you again?”

“If you like, I shall visit you,” he offered.

“I’d like that very much.” She could feel the infectious warmth of his hidden smile all the way to the marrow of her bones and could hardly keep her knees straight—a struggle that became ten times more difficult when he pulled his robe away.

She wasn’t sure she had words sufficient enough to describe his graceful, masculine beauty. He had a swordsman’s lean build. His long, black hair glimmered deeper and richer than a thousand perfectly preened crow feathers. It hung past his hips, heavy and full, and its length softened the squareness of his face. So did his full, upturned lips and his kind eyes, which swirled with power, betraying his divinity.

Though he was devastatingly handsome, the warmth he evoked in her heart was somehow more sacred and almost…familial than what she felt when she looked at Rosuke.

“What you see is the form my champion has given me,” the Divine One explained. “By witnessing it, your unborn child shall grow in my image. May you continue to serve my champion and her empire.”

“U-unborn…?” Mai nearly fell to her knees, but the Divine One gripped her upper arm. She closed her eyes in rapture at his touch.

“He waits for you. Tell him the good news.”

The spongy grass beneath her feet disappeared. She tilted and settled. The poignancy of the Divine One’s touch faded. She breathed in.

“Can you hear me?” a deep, beloved voice whispered. “Come back to me.”

Divine One have mercy. Everything hurt. Her legs, her arms, her back. The echo of her overexertion was not dissimilar to the ubiquitous ache she’d felt the morning after the night of passion she’d shared with Rosuke. The thought made her smile, and she heard a low chuckle.

“Did you have nice dreams?” Rosuke asked.

She didn’t have to open her eyes to know she was in his room. Light shone in from the left rather than behind, and the silky texture of his bedding evoked a powerful memory of sliding against it while he’d panted in her ear. She lifted her eyelids.

Rosuke sat next to her, as gorgeous as ever, and his warm hand rested where the Divine One’s had been. His wet hair had dampened the shoulders of his fresh, white shirt, which he hadn’t tied shut very well. He had obviously bathed and dressed in a hurry. Kyoko stood behind him. She smiled despite the tears in her eyes and gave a small wave. In her other hand, she held a bowl that contained a soaked rag. It was pink with blood.

“What happened?” Mai asked, though the words came out raspy and broken. Her throat felt as though she had tried to eat sand.

“Kyoko, can you—” he said over his shoulder.

“Yes, of course.” She turned to a tray nearby, set down the bowl of bloody water, and picked up a small pitcher.