The ink keeps shifting, forming words that feel like his voice whispering in my ear.
Dear Kali… I know your mother and I gave you Maya, but somehow Kali suits you better. Whoever gave you that name did well–it carries the strength of the independent woman you’ve become without the help of either me or your mother. For that, know this: I am proud of you. And I know your mother is proud of you too.
My hands shake so violently the page rattles. “Father…” I whisper, clutching the letter tighter.
Before I say anything else, dear daughter, please know that I am sorry–for replacing you. For making you believe, even for a moment, that I truly did. Perhaps I did, physically. But emotionally, in the depths of my heart, I never replaced you. I only needed someone to fill your shoes temporarily as princess to keep the kingdom steady until you were found again. And even if you had never been found, I would never have made her my heir. My love for you has never wavered–not for a single moment.
The tears spill faster, soaking the edges of the parchment. My throat burns, my chest aches as though caving in.
And I don’t want to keep giving excuses. I wanted to prove my love to you and to your mother with action. That’s why I turned to this dark magic ritual.
I press my hand against my mouth to muffle the sound of my sob.
Your mother sacrificed enough. Too much. It was time for me, as her mate, to carry the burden away from her–and from you. To do what was right.
The words blur through my tears until new ones crawl across the page. It’s as if my father already knows I’m crying.
Don’t cry, my daughter. You are too beautiful to cry. I am only going away for a while–to be with your mother. She must be lonely, and she needs me. But be assured, your mother and I… we will return. That is the reason I chose this path. Watching you in the hospital, losing your child–it broke me. And I know your mother saw it too, from the other side. I know her. She would have given up her very soul to protect your baby, and that would have meant she could never reincarnate–not as your child, not as anyone’s child. I couldn’t allow that. So by surrendering my living body as king, by giving up my crown and ultimate power, I made the unnatural choice so that you and I would not lose her forever.
My hands fall into my lap, the letter clutched to my chest as I shake with silent sobs.
Don’t worry. Your baby will be safe–I’m sure she is by the time you’re reading this. And until we meet again… not as your parents, of course, since we are already gone–but we will return to your life in soon. With this ritual complete, your mother cannot come back as your daughter, because fate no longer bends to us. So how will we return? That’s a surprise you’ll have to discover on your own.
A broken laugh bursts from my lips, more like a choked sob. “How am I supposed to know?” I whisper to the empty room. “How will I ever recognize you both?”
My heart races, confused and desperate. If my mother won’t come back as my child, as I once believed, then whose child will she be? And my father–how will he return? My pulse hammers in my ears, wild and relentless, drowning me in questions.
A sudden knock at the door jolted me back to myself. I gasped, shoving the letter beneath my pillow and wiping hastily at my tear–stained face.
The door creaks open, and an omega steps in, her eyes lowered in deference. She carries a folded bundle
of black and silver fabric in her arms.
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