The princess and the god met in the ashes of a broken city and made a pact in blood and sacrifice.

War creates strange alliances—no one emerges unscathed when death leaves its mark. Humans turn savage. Gods become monsters. And there’s a moment when the dead outnumber the living and everything you’ve ever loved lies in ruins at your feet that you’re left with only two choices.

You either bury your pride or you die choking on it.

So Amalthea Devaliant, the last daughter of her family’s dynasty, sought the enemy king. “I want to make a deal.”

Alexios, Eternal of Asteria, God of Storms, had been alive long before humans dreamed of empires. He’d fought battles that had aged him more than seven thousand years ever could, and of all the wars he’d survived, this one had scarred him deepest. If the princess wanted peace, she’d have to prove it and pay the price.

And Alexios only traded in blood.

He drew a dagger from between his crimson and black wings, pressing the hilt to Amalthea’s palm. “There are worse things than being tired of war,” he said.

“Like what?”

“Being hungry for it.”

She couldn’t argue with that. They had a hundred reasons to hate each other, but hatred takes something from you, and neither had anything left to give. Just two broken realms and pyres stacked high with enough bodies to block out the sun for days. A conflict with no end in sight.

Unless she ended it.

The princess shut her eyes and raised the knife. It felt wrong somehow—too delicate for sacrifice, too cruel for salvation. But a bargain is a bargain, and the God of Storms wasn’t known for changing his mind. So she pressed the weapon to her chest.

Breathe in. Hold. Let go.

This is how you save a world.