Some part of her had thought that using the god’s power would consume her entirely. But something had happened on the beach. First, when Ephyra had spoken to her—pleaded with her. Focusing on her sister’s voice had anchored her, kept her from slipping beneath the consuming tide of the god’s wrath.

And then, when Hector had shown up, she’d felt it. His fear, his relief, his hope sparking to life in Beru’s mind. A lifeline, something to hold on to as she pulled herself from the depths of the god’s will.

Now, with the Godfire collar back on, its emotions were more muted—she could feel them bleeding through sometimes, but there was always a sense of separation. Somehow the persistent awareness of herself remained, a will the god could not wholly conquer.

But the Godfire collar could not block out the god’s voice in the same way, so Beru was stuck listening to it air its grievances in every quiet moment.

I don’t know what you’re so upset about, Beru chided, leaning her face out toward the wind as the god subjected her to its latest rant against the Prophets. We’re free of Pallas, now. You should be happy about that, at least.

HAPPY? the god echoed blankly.

You wanted to be free of him, and now you are. That’s a good thing.

I WANTED PALLAS DEAD. HE IS NOT DEAD. THAT IS NOT “GOOD.”

Beru let out a sigh. There was a time when she’d been afraid of the god’s thoughts. But more and more often, she felt tired of its single-mindedness, the way it seemed to have such vast knowledge of the world, of creation, and yet seemed to know so little.

So just because things didn’t go exactly the way you wanted, you throw a fit.

LITTLE MORTAL, YOU WOULDN’T UNDERSTAND, the god said. I MADE THIS WORLD. IT EXISTS BECAUSE I EXIST. IT IS MINE. IT IS ME.

Beru considered this. She’d thought the god almost petulant. But it wasn’t that, exactly. The god could not be satisfied by small victories. It had only ever existed in a state of omnipotence before. If it had wanted Pallas dead, then Pallas would be dead and there was nothing to be happy or angry about. It just was, because the god had decided it.

But not anymore.

EVERYTHING IN THIS WORLD WAS OF ME, the god went on. AND YOU HUMANS WERE OF ME, TOO. UNTIL YOU BEGAN TO CHANGE. TO CHOOSE. TO … LOVE. THERE WAS NO GOING BACK, AFTER THAT. YOU WERE NO LONGER ME. THAT WAS WHY I CREATED THE PROPHETS. ONCE HUMANS WERE NO LONGER OF ME, I WAS CUT OFF FROM THEM. SO I GAVE A LITTLE OF MYSELF TO A FEW OF THEM, SUCH THAT THEY COULD TELL THE OTHERS.

Tell them what?