"I destroyed her," Sophia choked out, her whole body shaking. "I destroyed my own mother just by being born. She collapsed, maybe died—I don't even know—all those people—the Council members, the destruction, everything—it was all because of me. Because I'm some kind of... of abomination that shouldn't exist!" The word tasted like poison in her mouth, but it was what they'd called her, wasn't it? What they'd believed. She'd caused so much death and pain and suffering, and she hadn't even been an hour old. What kind of monster did that make her?
The grief was suffocating. It wrapped around her chest like iron bands, squeezing until she couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but cry for the parents she'd never known, for the mother who'd sacrificed everything, for the father who'd lost everything, for the life that had been stolen from all of them before it even began.
"Why?!" Sophia suddenly screamed, spinning around to face the goddess, her eyes blazing through her tears. "Why did you show me this?! Why did any of this have to happen?! If I'm so dangerous, so wrong, why didn't they just... just kill me and be done with it?!" Her voice broke again, but she pushed through it, anger mixing with her grief in a toxic cocktail. "What am I supposed to do with this information? Huh? What the hell am I supposed to do now that I know my entire existence is built on death and destruction and—and—" She couldn't finish. The words dissolved into another sob.
The goddess regarded her with eyes that held infinite compassion but also an unwavering firmness. When she spoke, her voice was gentle but carried the weight of absolute truth. "I showed you this because you needed to know, Sophia. Not to hurt you, but to prepare you. You have spent your life believing you were nothing—abandoned, ordinary, powerless. But you are none of those things. You are the daughter of two extraordinary beings who loved you more than life itself. What happened to your mother wasn't because you were wrong. She gave everything because she chose to protect you, knowing what you could become."
"But I don't want this!" Sophia cried, her hands clenched into fists. "I didn't ask to be born! I didn't ask for any of this power or destiny or whatever the hell you're about to tell me I have to do! I just wanted to be normal! I just wanted to—" Her voice cracked. "I just wanted to matter to someone."
"You matter to everyone," the goddess said softly, and for the first time, Sophia saw something that might have been sadness flicker across that perfect, otherworldly face. "That is both your gift and your burden. What happened to you, what was done to you—it was not justice. It was fear. The Council feared what they couldn't control, couldn't understand. But fear does not make them right. And their actions do not define your worth."
The goddess moved closer, and Sophia felt that overwhelming presence wash over her again, but this time it didn't feel threatening. It felt... protective. Almost maternal. "You are here now because it is time, Sophia. Time for you to understand what you are, where you came from, and what you were meant to do. Your mother gave everything to bring you into this world. Your father has spent three decades searching for you. They believed in you before you even drew your first breath. Do not dishonor their sacrifice by believing you are a mistake."
Sophia wanted to argue, wanted to rage against the unfairness of it all, but something in the goddess's words struck deep. Her mother had chosen this. Had known what it would cost and done it anyway. That wasn't the action of someone who regretted her child. That was love. Pure, absolute, devastating love.
"What does this mean for me now?" Sophia whispered, her voice small and broken. "What am I supposed to do?"
The goddess's expression shifted, becoming more solemn, more ancient. "You are meant to fulfill a destiny that was written the moment you were conceived. A prophecy spoken by the oldest seers, felt by the fabric of reality itself." She raised her hand, and the space around them began to shimmer with golden light, symbols and words appearing in languages Sophia didn't recognize but somehow understood in her soul.
The goddess's voice took on a resonant, echoing quality as she spoke, and Sophia knew she was hearing words that had been spoken long before she was born:
"She'll begin her journey through nightmares and pain,
Born of two worlds, where neither could sustain.
Five bonds shall forge her, five souls intertwined,
Each a pillar of strength for the power she'll find.
Through trials of fire, through darkness and fear,
She'll rise as an empress when the reckoning's near.
To unite the divided, to heal what was torn,
The child of impossibility, the hope that was born."
The words hung in the air like a physical presence, and Sophia felt them sink into her bones, into her very essence. A prophecy. About her. About a destiny she'd never asked for but apparently couldn't escape.