Demi putriku, para dewa kubunuh

Eve Carter was born with nothing. No divine blood, no destiny — just a daughter taken from her and locked at the top of the twelve zodiac houses. So she made herself a weapon the gods never planned for. She is a Vessel: she cannot create power, only take it. She walks into each house, lets its god land the killing blow — and drinks it. Their poison, their fire, their judgment — she swallows the power and turns it back on its owner, killing each Warden with his own divine strength. By now she fights with the stolen might of a dozen dead gods, and not one of those powers was ever hers. That's the trap. Every god she drinks leaves a shard of itself alive inside her — whispering, clawing, rewriting her. The fuller her arsenal grows, the less of Eve is left. Win enough, and she becomes the very thing she's been hunting. And far above, the Hierophant smiles. She was never the hunter. She is the hound he set loose — climbing his throne for him, one stolen seal at a time. The gods inside her are screaming. Her daughter is one house away. She is done being afraid of gods.