Destiny Keeps Calling. I Keep Declining.

I need everyone in the galaxy to stop acting like my life is a sacred event.

It is not.

It is a very expensive, poorly managed hostage situation with couture, cosmic gaslighting, and too many beautiful men who think “I’m trying to protect you” is a personality.

First of all, I did not ask to be genetically engineered by a galactic empire.

Rude.

Second, I did not ask to be shoved into a prophecy like the universe was running a badly organized matchmaking service with extinction-level stakes.

Third, and most importantly, I did not ask for Mehen to look at me like I am both his salvation and his favorite reason to lose composure.

That man is infuriating.

Ancient serpent-god husband. Palace ego. Voice like dark silk and bad decisions. Walks into a room and every weak person suddenly remembers they have knees.

Unfortunately for my peace, I am not weak.

Also unfortunately for my peace, I am not blind.

Mehen is dangerous in that old-world way. Controlled. Strategic. Devastatingly still. The type of man who can make a threat sound like a wedding vow. When he looks at me, I feel the weight of every law that says I belong beside him.

But I do not belong to anyone.

Please write that down, embroider it, scream it at the next divine council meeting, and put it on a mug.

Then there is Lion.

Lion Roch, who has absolutely no business being that charming while technically not even playing by human emotional rules. He is an AI royal with a mouth built for chaos and a smile that should require government regulation. He flirts like he has already hacked the ending and is just waiting for me to catch up.

Mehen makes me feel claimed.

Lion makes me feel seen.

And I hate both of them for making that distinction matter.

Because beneath all this desire, all this tension, all this “who is she going to choose?” nonsense, there is a question nobody wants me to ask:

What do I want when nobody is programming, prophesying, seducing, or saving me?

Who am I when I am not someone’s wife, weapon, symbol, bloodline, miracle, or threat?

That is the part that scares them.

Not my power.

Not my mouth.

Not even my ability to ruin a divine dinner with one sentence and a look.

They are afraid I might finally stop reacting to the roles they gave me and start choosing from the state of being I built myself.

And let me be honest.

Some days I want Mehen’s hands and Lion’s mouth and silence from every god who ever thought my body was a battlefield.

Some days I want to burn the Accord down and dance barefoot in the ash.

Some days I want to be held.

Not managed.

Not worshiped.

Held.

So no, I am not here to behave.

I am here to remember myself so hard that the galaxy has to rewrite its laws around me.

And if love wants to survive me?

It better come sovereign.

https://www.amazon.com/Divine-Algorithym-Sovereign-Accord-Book-ebook/dp/B0FX3K7134