Athea stood motionless for a long moment, her face a study in glacial composure even as one of her worst nightmares was coming true, the foundation of her carefully constructed lie crumbling beneath her.
She looked at her daughter, this brilliant, relentless creature she had raised, and saw no path forward but the truth.
There was no point in holding on to the deception any longer. Viora had found the thread, and she would pull until the entire tapestry unraveled.
With a deep, resigned sigh that seemed to carry the weight of years, Athea's expression hardened into something cold and unyielding. Her ice blue eyes, so like Viora's own, fixed on her daughter with a look that could freeze blood.
"You're right," Athea said, her voice flat and emotionless. "Zaeryn is my son."
