Chapter 4

Aletheia's POV

Her expression shifted. Became complicated. Uncertain.

"You want to know the truth," she said quietly.

I nodded.

Grandmother took a slow breath, her clouded eyes distant with memory. "Thirty years ago, Selene was pregnant. She went to the edge of the divine realm to suppress demonic beasts—they called it a Chaos Storm. Spatial rifts, reality warping, pure destructive energy tearing through everything."

I listened, barely breathing.

"The battle went badly. Selene was injured. The stress caused her to go into early labor." Grandmother's voice grew heavier. "In the middle of that storm, Aurora was born. The guards protecting Selene panicked. They put the highest-level divine seal on the newborn to hide her sacred aura from the monsters. It worked too well. The seal was so strong it made her seem like an ordinary baby. In the chaos, the guard protecting her died, and she vanished without a trace."

"And I was found instead," I said slowly.

"Yes." Grandmother's fingers tightened around mine. "When reinforcements arrived, they found you in the wreckage. A baby. And you had... divine power inside you. Faint, but unmistakable. Pure Dawn essence."

My heart skipped. "But I'm mortal. How—"

"I don't know." Frustration bled into her voice. "That's what I could never understand. You had divine power. Real power. I felt it myself when you were a child. It was weak, yes, but it was there. Genuine Dawn energy flowing through your veins."

I remembered. Those years before the Bloodline Ordeal, when I could feel something warm and bright moving inside me. When I'd been so sure I was divine.

"Selene assumed you were her daughter because of that power," Grandmother continued. "She brought you home. Raised you as her own. And for twenty years, we all believed it. Because why wouldn't we? You had the power. You had the right aura."

"Until the Ordeal," I whispered.

"Until the Ordeal." Grandmother's voice went bitter. "The Testing Basin rejected you. The power just... vanished. Like it had never existed. And then Aurora's seal broke during a life-threatening situation in the mortal realm. Her divine light exploded, discovered by divine servants. The servants found her and brought her back."

I sat with that for a moment. Trying to make sense of it.

"So I had divine power for twenty years," I said slowly. "Real power. But it disappeared the moment I was tested. And no one knows why."

"No one knows why you had it in the first place." Grandmother's eyes met mine, and I saw the same confusion I felt reflected there. "I tried to investigate. Searched through every record in the divine temple. But there was nothing."

"Maybe it was just... residual energy from the storm?" I suggested, even though it sounded weak to my own ears.

"Maybe." But Grandmother didn't sound convinced. "Except that power was too pure. Residual energy doesn't last twenty years. It doesn't flow through someone's veins like it belongs there."

She paused, her expression troubled. "I've lived for thousands of years, child. I've seen every kind of divine power there is. And what was inside you..." She shook her head. "The surface resembled Dawn energy, yes. But the core—the essence beneath—it was different. Older. Like something that existed before Olympus itself, wearing Dawn's cloak to hide its true nature."

Her clouded eyes met mine. "We mistook the shell for the truth. Assumed it was simply a weak manifestation of Selene's bloodline. But now I wonder... what if we were meant to make that mistake?"

A chill ran down my spine. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I don't know what you are." Grandmother's voice was soft. "But I don't think you're just mortal. And I don't think that power disappeared. I think it's still there, somewhere. Hidden. Waiting."

I wanted to argue. To say she was wrong, that the Testing Basin had proven what I was. But something in her words resonated. Made me think of all those years I'd felt that warmth inside me. How natural it had seemed. How right.

"It doesn't matter," I said finally, pulling my hands back. "Whatever I had, it's gone now. I'm mortal. That's what the Basin said. That's what everyone believes."

"Aletheia—"

"I don't want to think about it anymore." My voice came out sharper than I intended. "I spent ten years in Cocytus wondering why. Why I had power. Why it disappeared. Why any of this happened to me. And you know what I realized?"

Grandmother waited.

"It doesn't matter. None of it matters. Because even if I found out the truth, even if I understood everything, it wouldn't change what they did to me. It wouldn't give me back those ten years. It wouldn't make this family love me again."

I stood up, my ankle protesting the movement. "I'm done looking for answers. I'm done hoping for explanations. When you enter your deep sleep—when you're truly gone—I'm leaving this place. But until then..." My voice softened. "Until then, I'll stay. Every day you have left."

Grandmother looked up at me with such sadness it hurt to see. "I understand," she said quietly. "I just wish... I wish I could give you more. Better answers. A better life."

"You gave me enough." I knelt down again and kissed her forehead. "You gave me love. Real love. That's more than anyone else here ever did."

Her hand came up to cup my cheek one more time. "Promise me you'll be happy. Wherever you go. Whatever you do. Promise me you'll find a way to be happy."

"I promise."

It was a lie. We both knew it. But sometimes lies are kinder than the truth.

---

We talked for hours after that. About everything and nothing. Grandmother told me stories from when I was little—how I'd tried to climb the golden laurel tree and fallen, crying until she picked me up. How I'd stolen flowers from other gods' gardens to make her a crown for her naming day. How I'd been so bright and fearless and full of joy.

I barely remembered that girl. She felt like someone else. Someone who'd died in Cocytus and never come back.

But listening to Grandmother talk about her, I could almost see her. That laughing child who'd believed the world was good. Who'd thought she was safe.

For the first time since returning, I felt my lips curve into something that might have been a smile. Just for a second. Just enough to let Grandmother see it.

Her eyes lit up when she noticed. "There," she breathed. "There's my girl."

But the effort of talking was wearing on her. I could see it in the way her words started to slur. How her eyes kept drifting closed, then jerking open again like she was fighting sleep.

"Rest," I told her gently. "I'll come back tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," she agreed, her voice barely a whisper.

I helped her lie down on the woven throne, tucking a thin blanket around her frail body. She looked so small. So breakable.

"I love you, Grandmother," I said, kissing her forehead one more time.

"I love you too, my darling girl." Her eyes closed. "So much. More than you'll ever know."

I watched her for a moment longer, memorizing her face. Then I turned and walked toward the door.

The corridor outside felt colder than before. Emptier.

I pulled down my sleeves and stepped out into the eternal daylight of the Dawn Estate.