The sun had barely risen, casting long shadows over the rugged landscape as Eryx and Lorian set off toward the mountains. The air was cold and crisp, biting against Eryx's skin as they ascended the steep path. Every step felt heavier than the last, not just from the physical strain of the climb but from the weight of the knowledge that had settled in his mind.
Malara's warning echoed in his thoughts—others will come, and they will not be so forgiving.
Eryx glanced at Lorian, who moved with the steady pace of someone who had traveled these roads many times before. His mentor had not spoken much since they left the chamber, but there was a tightness to his movements, a tension that told Eryx everything he needed to know.
They were being hunted.
"How far is this sanctuary?" Eryx asked, his voice breaking the quiet stillness of the morning.
Lorian didn't turn as he spoke, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. "Three days' journey. But the real challenge begins when we reach the Gates of Varnor. The sanctuary is not a place you can simply walk into. The gods designed it to test those who seek its knowledge."
Eryx frowned. "Test? What kind of test?"
Lorian's expression darkened. "The trials are meant to challenge both your body and your spirit. Only those who are truly worthy can pass through the gates. Many have tried—most have failed."
Eryx felt a chill run down his spine. He had barely survived the battle with the fallen god, and now he was expected to face trials designed by the gods themselves? He wasn't sure if he was ready, but he knew he didn't have a choice.
"The gods didn't make this easy, did they?" Eryx muttered, half to himself.
Lorian chuckled softly. "The gods rarely did anything easily. But they believed in the strength of those they chose. You have that strength, Eryx. You just need to find it."
Eryx wasn't so sure, but he nodded, not wanting to reveal the doubt gnawing at him. He had felt the power inside him, yes—but it was wild, untamed. If he couldn't control it during these trials, what chance did he have against the forces that were coming for him?
As the hours passed, the landscape grew more treacherous. The path narrowed, winding through jagged cliffs and dense forests. The mountain loomed before them, its peak shrouded in mist, as if the gods themselves were watching over it. Eryx's legs burned from the constant climb, but he pushed on, determined not to show weakness.
They stopped for a brief rest in a small clearing, where Lorian handed Eryx a piece of dried meat. Eryx chewed slowly, his eyes scanning the horizon. There was a strange stillness in the air, a silence that felt too heavy, too unnatural.
"Do you think she was telling the truth?" Eryx asked, breaking the silence. "Malara, I mean. About others coming for me."
Lorian's eyes narrowed slightly. "Malara may have her own agenda, but there is truth in her words. The power you carry is not a secret anymore. There are those who would do anything to claim it. Some for greed, others for vengeance."
Eryx swallowed hard. "Vengeance?"
Lorian nodded. "There are still those who blame the gods for the fall of their kingdoms, their people. They see you as a remnant of that era, a reminder of the gods' rule. To them, you're a threat—one they cannot allow to rise."
Eryx fell silent, the weight of Lorian's words pressing down on him. He had never asked for this power, never wanted to be caught in the middle of ancient rivalries and grudges. But the power was his now, and with it came responsibilities he couldn't escape.
As they prepared to continue their journey, a sudden movement in the trees caught Eryx's eye. His heart skipped a beat, his body tensing as he instinctively reached for the small dagger Lorian had given him. The rustling grew louder, and before he could react, a figure stepped out from the shadows.
It was a man, tall and gaunt, with sharp, angular features and eyes that gleamed with a sinister light. His clothes were tattered, and his face bore the marks of someone who had been through countless battles. But it wasn't the man's appearance that set Eryx on edge—it was the aura around him. There was a darkness clinging to him, a palpable sense of malice.
Lorian was on his feet in an instant, stepping between Eryx and the stranger, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice cold and firm.
The man smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm just a traveler," he said, his voice smooth but dripping with menace. "I've heard whispers of a boy with divine blood walking these roads. Thought I might see if the rumors were true."
Eryx's grip tightened on his dagger, his pulse quickening. This man was dangerous—he could feel it in the way the air seemed to thicken around him, the way his eyes lingered on Eryx with a predatory gaze.
Lorian's stance shifted, his muscles coiling like a spring ready to snap. "You've seen enough. Turn back now, and there won't be trouble."
The man's smile widened, his eyes gleaming with a cruel amusement. "Oh, I don't think I'll be doing that. You see, there's quite a reward for anyone who can bring the boy back to certain interested parties. And I'm not one to pass up an opportunity."
Without warning, the man lunged forward, faster than Eryx could react. Lorian was ready, drawing his sword in a blur of motion and meeting the man's attack with a sharp clash of steel. The force of the blow sent a shockwave through the clearing, and Eryx stumbled back, his heart pounding in his chest.
Lorian and the stranger moved with deadly precision, their blades flashing in the dappled sunlight. The man was quick, his movements fluid and unpredictable, but Lorian was a seasoned fighter, every strike calculated and controlled.
Eryx watched, his hands trembling as the power inside him stirred, begging to be unleashed. But he didn't dare use it—not here, not now. The last time he had called on that power, it had nearly consumed him. He couldn't risk losing control again.
The fight raged on, the clash of swords echoing through the trees. The man was relentless, but Lorian was holding his ground, his face set in grim determination.
But then, with a sudden flick of his wrist, the man feinted, throwing Lorian off balance for a split second. It was all he needed. The man's blade sliced through the air, aiming for Lorian's side.
Eryx didn't think. The power surged through him, wild and untamed, and before he knew what he was doing, his hand shot out, a burst of light erupting from his palm.
The blast struck the man in the chest, sending him flying backward with a cry of pain. He hit the ground hard, skidding to a stop at the edge of the clearing, his body smoking from the impact.
Eryx stood frozen, his hand still raised, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The power buzzed beneath his skin, alive and dangerous, but this time it hadn't consumed him. He had controlled it—just barely.
Lorian lowered his sword, his eyes flicking from the fallen man to Eryx, a mixture of relief and concern on his face. "You did well," he said quietly. "But you must be careful. That power is not something to wield lightly."
Eryx nodded, his heart still racing. He didn't need Lorian to tell him that. He had felt the raw, terrifying force of it, and he knew that next time, he might not be so lucky.
The man groaned, pushing himself up on shaky arms. His eyes burned with hatred as he glared at Eryx. "This isn't over," he spat, before staggering to his feet and disappearing into the forest.
Eryx watched him go, his chest tight with fear and uncertainty. Malara's words echoed in his mind—others will come, and they will not be so forgiving.
He had won this fight, but the battles ahead would only grow more dangerous.
"We need to move," Lorian said, his voice urgent. "More will come, and we can't afford to be caught off guard again."
Eryx nodded, steeling himself for what lay ahead. The sanctuary was still days away, and already the dangers were closing in. But as they set off once more, Eryx couldn't shake the feeling that something far worse was waiting for him in the shadows.