The sun was a pale sliver on the horizon as Asher stepped through the rift, emerging back into the familiar, sun-dappled world he had left behind. The earth beneath his feet felt solid, grounding him after what felt like an eternity in the swirling, intangible realms of gods and shadows. For a moment, he stood there, breathing in the familiar scent of the world—a mixture of damp earth, the smell of grass, and the distant fragrance of freshly baked bread from a nearby village.
It was a strange feeling, one of surreal calm, knowing he had just been through the darkest trials and was now standing in a place so ordinary, so simple, and yet so vital. He had come back for a brief respite, to reclaim what was lost and, for the first time in weeks, allow himself the luxury of a pause.
He glanced around, taking in the landscape that had once been his home. The fields stretched out before him, golden under the early morning sun, and the gentle rustle of the wind in the trees gave him a sense of peace. The world had not changed in his absence. It was as if time had slowed down just for him.
But as much as Asher longed for peace, there was a heavy weight in his chest—one that had never quite left him, not even in his moments of joy. It was the same weight that had pulled him forward through his trials and had now pulled him back to this world. Kiella was safe now, yes, but there were still so many things left undone. The gods had not finished with him yet, and he could feel their eyes on him, waiting.
He walked through the village, passing the familiar faces of those who lived here. They greeted him with nods and quiet smiles, oblivious to the battles he had fought and the fate that loomed on the horizon. The world around him was blissfully unaware of the darkness lurking just beyond the horizon.
"Asher."
The voice was familiar, though it carried a note of urgency. He turned around to see an old man approaching him, his stooped figure making its way slowly down the path. The man was a healer, an elder of the village, and his eyes held the wisdom of someone who had seen countless years pass by. The healer's hands were clasped in front of him, his face wrinkled in deep thought.
"Asher," the healer repeated, his voice softer this time. "You've returned."
"Yes, for a short while," Asher replied, giving a faint smile, though his heart was heavy. "I needed to be here for a bit."
The healer studied him closely, his gaze sharp despite his age. "You have been to places that none of us can imagine," he said quietly. "I can see it in your eyes. The shadows that linger."
Asher looked down, momentarily lost in thought. The healer was right. Even though he was back, even though Kiella was safe, the shadows of his journey—of everything he had experienced—would never truly fade. They had etched themselves into his soul.
"Yes," Asher said, his voice barely a whisper. "I've seen things… done things. And there's still more to come."
The healer gave a small nod, his face growing even more somber. "You know, don't you? The gods are watching. You are far from finished."
Asher's gaze hardened, his jaw tensing. "I know."
The healer placed a hand on Asher's shoulder, his grip surprisingly firm for one so old. "Be careful, my boy. The gods may have called you once, but they never give a respite without asking for more. The balance of things is fragile, and it seems the thread of fate still has you in its grasp."
Asher nodded, swallowing hard. "I've learned that the hard way."
The healer let his hand fall and sighed. "Then go to them, Asher. But know this—you may have come back to this world, but you won't be here long."
Before Asher could reply, there was a sudden shift in the air—a subtle but undeniable change. A cold breeze, unnatural and harsh, swept through the village, making the trees shake and the earth tremble slightly beneath his feet. His body tensed at once, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.
And then, in the distance, a crack of thunder sounded, though the sky was clear and unclouded. The air grew thick with an eerie tension, the winds turning restless.
The healer's face twisted in fear as he turned to look at Asher. "It's them, isn't it?"
Without saying a word, Asher nodded. The gods were calling again. Their summons had come.
The healer's eyes narrowed. "Go, then. Do what you must, Asher. But remember—this world still needs you, even if the gods do not."
Asher gave a final glance at the healer before stepping away. His heart pounded in his chest as he felt the call, the ancient pull of the gods that always seemed to find him in his moments of peace. The gods weren't done with him. He had hoped for a brief respite, a moment to gather himself, but fate had other plans.
He left the village behind, following the worn path that led to the old stone altar—a place where sacrifices had once been made to the gods, long before Asher was born. It was a sacred place, a place of power. As he approached, the air grew colder, the ground beneath his feet harder with each step. The altar was in ruins, its stones weathered by time, but the presence of the gods here still lingered.
Asher approached the altar, his heart thudding. He had been here before, when they first called him. He knew what was coming.
The wind began to howl as the sky darkened above him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything that had happened. The gods would not let him rest. They would not allow him to simply live a normal life, to be free from the endless cycle of their demands.
Then, from the shadows, a voice echoed, ancient and filled with power. "Asher."
It was a voice that sent chills down his spine, familiar yet filled with authority. Asher opened his eyes and looked toward the altar. The air shimmered, and before him stood a figure cloaked in divine radiance. The gods had summoned him.
It was Athena. Her presence was unmistakable, her eyes burning with the same divine fire he had seen before. Her armor gleamed in the faint light, and her voice was laced with both urgency and authority.
"You have done well, Asher," she said, her gaze penetrating. "You have saved Kiella and restored balance to the world. But the time for rest is not yet. There are forces stirring, forces that threaten not just your world, but all worlds."
Asher swallowed, his heart hammering in his chest. He had hoped that his journey was over, that the gods would be satisfied with his sacrifices. But Athena's words told him otherwise.
"What is it now?" Asher asked, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. "What more do you ask of me?"
Athena's expression softened, but only slightly. "The Fates, Asher, the Fates have already begun to weave another thread. There is an ancient evil that stirs in the depths, something that seeks to unravel everything, to tear the very fabric of existence apart. It will come for your world, and it will come for Kiella."
Asher's blood ran cold at her words. He had feared this. He had feared that whatever peace he had fought for would be short-lived, that the darkness would always come back to claim him. And now, Athena was confirming his worst fears.
"And what do you need me to do?" Asher asked, his voice steady, though he felt the weight of despair in his chest.
Athena stepped closer, her gaze unwavering. "There is an artifact, a key to stopping this darkness, but it is lost in a realm even we cannot reach. You must retrieve it, Asher. The world is depending on you."
The world. He had heard that phrase too many times, each time making the burden heavier to bear.
"Where is it?" Asher asked quietly.
Athena's eyes gleamed. "It is within the Abyss—a realm where time and space are twisted, where all your worst fears come to life. But you cannot go alone."
Asher frowned. "Kiella…" He knew what Athena was implying. He couldn't do this without her. She had been his strength before, and he knew she would be again.
Athena's expression hardened. "It is too dangerous. You cannot risk her life. You must go alone."
Asher clenched his jaw, feeling the burning anger rise inside him. He had sacrificed so much, fought so hard, and now they were telling him to leave the one person who had been by his side throughout it all behind?
"I won't leave her," he said, his voice firm. "She's a part of this too."
But Athena remained silent, her gaze unwavering. "You must make the choice, Asher. There are no second chances in the Abyss."
And so, as the cold winds blew through the altar, as the gods' presence loomed larger than ever, Asher found himself faced with yet another impossible decision.
He had hoped for peace. But the gods had other plans.