The Council evacuated quickly, taking Althander with them—bound, broken, but still alive. Still dangerous in his grief. They would imprison him for a time, until the madness faded. Until he accepted what couldn't be changed.
But they would never fully break him. And they would never stop him from searching.
Thirty years in Galthera, he would search—though on Earth, only nineteen would pass. Following rumors, chasing leads, investigating every dimensional tear and magical anomaly. Learning everything he could about Earth, about how to survive in a magically dead world, about where they might have placed his daughter.
And when those eyes opened again, when that power woke, when Sophia finally remembered what she'd been born to be—he would be ready.
He would find her.
No matter what it cost.
---
Sophia couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. She couldn't do anything but stare at the space where the vision had been, where her entire world had just been ripped apart and reconstructed in the most devastating way possible.
That baby. That tiny, golden-eyed infant who'd killed people just by being born. That was her. She was that baby. The note pinned to the blanket—Sophia—that was her name because it was the only thing her father had managed to give her before everything fell apart. She'd spent her entire life thinking she'd been abandoned, unwanted, thrown away like garbage. But the truth... the truth was so much worse and so much better and she didn't know how to process any of it.
Her mother. Jasmine. A woman she'd never known, never met, never even heard of until tonight. That woman had died for her. Had poured every ounce of her life force into bringing Sophia into the world, had used her last moments of consciousness to try and protect her daughter from the people who wanted to kill her. And her father—Althander—he'd fought for her, held her, tried to save her even as the world literally fell apart around them. They'd loved her. They'd wanted her. They'd given everything for her.
And she'd never known. For thirty years, she'd lived thinking she was nobody, nothing, just another orphan in a system that didn't care. She'd built walls around her heart, convinced herself she didn't need anyone, that being alone was easier than risking rejection. But all this time, she'd had parents who'd loved her so fiercely they'd defied councils and broken laws and sacrificed everything just to give her a chance at life.
The grief hit her like a physical blow. She felt herself collapse—or whatever the equivalent was in this weird cosmic space—and the sobs tore out of her throat in ugly, gasping sounds. She'd caused so much death. Those Council members, that mage, the destruction of the island, what happened to her mother, her father's imprisonment and decades of searching. All of it because she existed. Because she'd been born with too much power, too much potential, too much everything. How was she supposed to live with that? How was she supposed to accept that her very existence had cost so many people so much?
"Why?" Sophia's voice cracked as she spun toward the goddess, tears streaming down her face. "Why did you show me this? Why did any of this have to happen? I didn't ask to be born! I didn't ask for this power or this legacy or any of it!"
The goddess regarded her with those impossibly ancient eyes, and for the first time, Sophia saw something like compassion in them. "Because you needed to know the truth, child. You needed to understand where you came from, what you are, and why your path has been so difficult."
"Difficult?" Sophia laughed, the sound bitter and broken. "My mother was destroyed because of me! My father lost everything! People died just because I was born! And now what? What am I supposed to do with this information? How does knowing any of this help me?"
"It helps you understand your purpose," the goddess said gently, moving closer. "It helps you see that you were never abandoned, never unwanted. You were protected. Hidden. Given a chance to grow without the weight of expectation crushing you before you were ready."
"Ready for what?" Sophia demanded, wiping furiously at her tears. "What am I supposed to be ready for?"
The goddess was quiet for a long moment, and when she spoke again, her voice carried the weight of ages. "There was a prophecy, Sophia. Made the moment you were conceived. The moment your mother's impossible power merged with your father's ancient bloodline. The universe itself spoke of what you would become."