The entries jumped forward several months.
Met someone today. An emissary from Meroe, come to negotiate trade agreements.
His name is Joraan, and he's... different. Most nobles I meet either grovel or scheme. He does neither. He looked at me like I was a person, not a position. Like he saw me.
It was dangerous how much I liked it.
My chest tightened. My father. This was the beginning of my father.
We've been meeting in secret for weeks now. I know it's foolish. I know it's dangerous. But Joraan makes me feel like I'm more than the amulet around my neck. When I'm with him, I'm not the sun holder. I'm just Kessara. A woman who laughs too loud and thinks too much and wants things she shouldn't want.
He told me today that he practices shadow magic. In Meroe, it's normal—part of their noble training. Here, it would get him executed. But he's trying to stop. Says the darkness in him feels wrong now, after meeting me. That I make him want to be better.
I don't know if I believe him. But I want to.
Several pages had been torn out. Whatever came next, my mother hadn't wanted anyone to read.
When the entries resumed, the handwriting was different. Shakier. More desperate.
I'm pregnant.
Three months along and I haven't told anyone. Can't tell anyone. The sun holder isn't supposed to have attachments. Isn't supposed to love. The moment they know, they'll take the child. Raise it in the temple, train it to be the next vessel. Or they'll kill it, claiming it's corrupted by shadow magic—Joraan's legacy poisoning the divine line.
I can't let that happen.
I won't.
"Gods," Sebtenius breathed beside me.
Awsar knows. I don't know how, but he knows. He came to me yesterday, told me the nobles are planning something. That they've been poisoning the old High Priest slowly, waiting for him to die so they can challenge my legitimacy. They want to claim the choosing was false, that without the old priest to verify it, I'm just a pretender.
He told me I need to stay. To fight. To prove them wrong.
But he also told me that if I stay, they'll kill my child. Use it as proof of my corruption. My unworthiness.
He said I have to choose: the kingdom or the baby.
What kind of choice is that?
I had to stop reading. My hands were shaking, and something hot and angry was building in my chest.
She'd been trapped. Caught between duty and love, and neither option was right.
"Rhohar," Sebtenius said softly.
"I'm fine." But my voice cracked on the words.
I forced myself to keep reading.
Joraan wants to run. Says we can go to Meroe, that his family will protect us. But I know better. The nobles there are just as power-hungry as the ones here. They'd use my child as a political tool, raise him to be a puppet king they could control.
And the amulet. They'd want the amulet. The proof of divine choosing. They'd kill me for it eventually, once they figured out how to transfer its power.
There's no safe place for us. Not together.
So I'm making a different choice.
I'm leaving. Taking the amulet with me. Running somewhere they can't find us. Maybe to the outer territories. Maybe beyond Arazon entirely. Somewhere my son can grow up without the weight of destiny crushing him before he can even walk.
Awsar will be furious. The nobles will call it theft. History will remember me as a coward.
But my son will be free.
And that's worth any price.