Asphodel

The gods were not so different from the mortals who worshiped them. They were powerful, yes- ageless, radiant, woven from magic and divinity-but beneath it all, they were still shaped by doubt, by longing, by the unspoken weight of duty. They could love, they could fear, they could break. And yet, they could never fall. Not truly.

Because they were the chosen ones.

No mortal knew who had chosen them, nor when the decision had been made. The gods themselves did not remember a time before their thrones, before the weight of their names became something unshakable. They had been born into their roles, into an order so ancient that even they did not dare question it. They were not rulers, nor conquerors. They were guardians-keepers of the cycle, protectors of the wheel that turned all things.

It was a wheel that must never stop.

Varning, there might be a lot ot TW in this book. Read on your own risk.