But I wanted to understand how a Chosen had ended up in the Shadowlands. “Erlina was a Chosen.”

The change in his features was swift and striking. His jaw hardened, and his lips thinned.

“She didn’t tell me much beyond that,” I said quickly, not wanting her to possibly get into trouble. “Why didn’t she Ascend?”

Tension bracketed his mouth. “Is that what mortals believe still happens to the Chosen?”

I stiffened. “Yes. That’s what we’ve been taught. That’s what the Chosen spend their lives preparing for—their Rite and Ascension. They serve the gods for all time.”

“They don’t,” Ash stated flatly. “What you know of the Rite and the Chosen is nothing but a lie.” A muscle ticked along Ash’s jaw. “The Rite you celebrate—the one you hold feasts and parties in honor of? You’re celebrating what will ultimately be the death of most of them. It wasn’t always that way. At one time, the Chosen were Ascended. They did serve the gods. But that is not what it is now, and it hasn’t been for a very long time.”

A coldness seeped into my skin. “I don’t understand.”

“No Chosen has been Ascended in several hundred years.” Ash’s eyes were the color of the Shadowlands sky. “From the moment a Chosen arrives in Iliseeum, they are treated as objects to be used and given away, toyed with and eventually broken.”

Horror swept through me as I stared at him. A huge part of me simply dove into denial. I couldn’t believe it.

I couldn’t…gods, I couldn’t comprehend that. Couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that these men and women who’d spent their lives in the mortal realm, veiled and groomed to serve the gods in one form or another, were taken from the mortal realm only to be killed. The smile of the young male Chosen formed in my mind. It had been so wide. Real and eager.

 And there had to be thousands of Chosen like him. Thousands.

“Why?” I whispered, my stomach roiling as I sat on the settee.

“Why not?”

I sucked in air that went nowhere. “That is not a good enough answer.”

“I agree.” His eyes swirled slowly.

“Then why are the Chosen taken if not to be Ascended so they may serve the Primal of Life and the gods?”

“I do not know why the Rite is still held,” he said, and I wasn’t sure I believed him. “But they do serve the gods, Sera. They serve at their whims. And many of those gods do what they want with the Chosen, because they can. Because for some of them, that is all they know. That’s not an excuse. At all. But as long as mortals continue the Rite, more Chosen will meet the same fate.”

Red-hot anger whipped through me, and I was on my feet before I even realized it. “Mortals continue the Rite because the gods ask that of us. Because we are told that the Chosen will serve the gods. You speak as if this is our fault. As if we have the ability to tell the gods—a Primal—no.”

“I do not think that it’s the mortals’ fault,” he corrected.

My hands opened and closed at my sides as I took a step back. I turned away from Ash before I did something reckless. Like pick up the low-to-the-ground table and throw it at him. I crossed the bedchamber, stopping at the balcony doors. Did Kolis not know this was happening? Or did he not care? I glanced down at my hands. I couldn’t believe that he wouldn’t care. He was the Primal of Life.

But how could he be unaware? He was the most powerful of all the Primals. The King of Gods.

“How is this allowed by the King of Gods?” I asked, the image of him in the Sun Temple forming. You, Chosen, are worthy. I shuddered.

“Why would you think it is disallowed? Simply because he’s the Primal of Life?” A sharpness entered his tone. “You believe he cares?”

I turned to him. Nothing could be gleaned from his expression. “Yes. I would believe that.”

An eyebrow rose. “Then you know even less about Primals than I believed.”

My heart thumped in my chest. “Are you really suggesting that Kolis is okay with the Chosen being brutalized?”

His icy stare met mine. “I wouldn’t dare suggest that your Primal of Life could be so cruel.”

A wave of prickly anger swept through me. “Why would he allow that? Why would anyone do that?” I remembered what Aios had said. “It can’t be because they lived so long that this is the only way they find pleasure or entertainment.”

“I couldn’t answer that question—to even begin to tell you that it is due to losing humanity or simply because they view mortals as something beneath them. I don’t know what corrupts and festers the mind that ultimately allows that type of behavior to occur. I don’t know how anyone finds pleasure in the pain and humiliation of others.” Ash had drifted closer. “I almost wish you hadn’t learned this. At least, not yet. Some things are better left unknown.”

“For the ones not involved, maybe. But for the Chosen? Their families? They’re taught that it is an honor. People wish they were Chosen, Ash. How is that right?”

“It’s not.”

“It has to be stopped,” I said. “The Rite. The whole act of being Chosen. It has to be.”

Something akin to pride filled his eyes, but it was gone so quickly, I couldn’t be sure. “And how would you propose doing that? Do you think mortals would believe it if they were told the truth?”

“Probably not if it came from another mortal.” I didn’t even have to think about that. “But they’d believe a god. They’d believe a Primal.”

“Do you think they’d believe the Primal of Death?”

I snapped my mouth shut.

“Even if another Primal came to them and showed them what really happened, there would be resistance. It is far easier to be lied to than it is to acknowledge that you have been lied to.”

I stared at him, taking in the cold lines and angles of his face. There was truth in those words. A sad, harsh one. “What do you do about this?”

His eyes searched mine. “I don’t stand by and do nothing, even if it may appear that way. That is how I prefer it.” Wisps of eather crackled along his irises. “That is how I keep people like Erlina alive.”

“You…you saved her? Brought her here?”

“I’ve only hidden her away. Like I’ve done for other Chosen. I try to get as many as I can without drawing attention,” he said, darkness gathering under his skin.

Only hidden her away? As if that were nothing. But was it enough? The answer was no. Thousands had been Chosen over the years. But it was something.

“Is it still dangerous for them?” I asked. “Other gods enter Lethe. Could they be recognized?”

“There is always a risk that someone who recognizes them will see them. They know that.” A muscle flexed in his jaw as his gaze shifted to the empty fireplace. “We’ve been mostly lucky.”

“Mostly,” I repeated softly, and I thought of the woman who’d gone missing and how reluctant Ector had been to speak about her. “Is the woman who went missing a Chosen? Gemma?”

His iron-hued eyes swept to mine. “She is.”

“And she hasn’t been found?”

“Not yet.”

My heart turned over heavily. “Do you think her disappearance is related to a god possibly recognizing her as a Chosen?”

“I believe it is related in some way, whether she was recognized or saw a god she knew and chose to go missing.”

Meaning it was possible that this Gemma had seen a god that would’ve recognized her, and was so afraid she’d panicked. “Where could she have gone?”

“To one side of Lethe is the bay. The Red Woods borders the southern side, and the Dying Woods surrounds the western and northern sides. I’ve had guards searching the woods, but if she went in there…”

He didn’t need to finish. If Gemma had gone into the woods, it was unlikely that she survived. I still didn’t believe a single drop of my blood had drawn those entombed gods aboveground. But even if she didn’t raise them, there were still the Shades and possibly even Hunters. Chosen were trained in self-defense. Not as extensively as I was, but they knew how to wield a weapon. Still, I doubted it would be enough.