He exhaled sharply, then said aloud, with a touch of sarcasm, "Well, if even a goddess doesn't know, how am I supposed to figure it out?"
Johamma's sharp gaze locked onto him, her expression unreadable. For a moment, the room was silent, the tension almost suffocating.
Jolthar's attempt at deflecting the gravity of the situation with humour hadn't landed.
Instead, it seemed to only deepen the weight of what was unfolding around him.
Jolthar's thoughts were a whirlwind as he processed what Johamma had said.
A god from the upper realms, and she—a fallen goddess. It all felt too surreal, yet everything he had witnessed recently lent her words undeniable weight. His instincts had always hinted at something otherworldly about her, but this revelation exceeded anything he could have imagined.
Johamma's gaze was steady, her expression unreadable as if she were gauging his reaction.
