As the dust settled, revealing a gaping hole leading into the depths of the temple, Thalor's shock shifted to a mix of awe and suspicion. "Are you… a mage? But I've never seen a mage use such large-scale magic," he stammered, glancing nervously at Zephry.
"I'm just a genius mage, what can I say," Zephry replied, proud of himself. A drop of blood started to drip from his nose. With a sigh, Clark pulled out a napkin and gently wiped it away.
"You really shouldn't overexert yourself, sir," Clark said.
"Fine, fine. But there's something that withstood my attack," Zephry pointed out, gesturing at a cube-shaped structure at the bottom of the hole he had created.
Thalor, snapping out of his shock, noticed it as well. "That's the chamber containing the divine artifact."
"Quite durable, I must say." Without hesitation, Zephry jumped straight into the pit.
Thalor panicked, watching Zephry dive into the depths. Before he could react, Clark grabbed him, leaping in after Zephry. As they neared the bottom, a gust of wind formed beneath them, softening their landing. Thalor kept silent, expecting a similar, evasive response if he questioned Zephry's powers again.
The cube-shaped structure loomed ahead, tall and unscathed among the debris, with intricate patterns etched onto its front. As Thalor recognized the symbols, he began to mumble to himself.
"What does it say?" Zephry asked, peering over.
"It looks like a riddle—probably a puzzle to open the doors of the chamber."
"We could always smash them open," Zephry suggested.
"No!" Thalor exclaimed. "The artifact could get damaged."
Nodding, Thalor focused on deciphering the riddle while Zephry approached Clark, retrieving a leather water bag from his bag and taking a long drink.
"Seems Sorven invested quite a bit of divine power into securing this," Clark observed. "Or perhaps it's an artifact from another world, guarded by such strong materials."
Zephry raised an eyebrow, intrigued, as he examined the various tools Clark had packed.
"You've come well-prepared, Clark."
Clark gave a modest nod. "I prepared a different bag for every world, sir. They're all in my storage space—right here in my pocket."
"That's quite like you."
Meanwhile, Thalor raised his voice, chanting in a reverent tone, "THY PROVIDOR OF WISDOM AND COLLECTOR OF KNOWLEDGE, GUIDE YOUR LOYAL FOLLOWER TO GLORY!!"
As he finished, the symbols on the wall glowed, and the ground trembled slightly as the doors slid open.
Zephry smirked, "A bit dramatic, don't you think?"
They entered the chamber, and there in the center of the room was an orb, floating between two stone pillars—one descending from the ceiling and the other rising from the floor.
"What is this… the Power Stone?" Zephry asked with a smirk.
"Power Stone…?" Thalor looked visibly confused. "No, that's the divine artifact of Sorven—the Eye of Wisdom."
"This has the power to provide glimpses into potential futures based on current events, offering a limited form of prediction based on choices made," Thalor says reverently, his voice filled with awe.
Zephry's excitement fades as he mutters, "That's it? All this for a little prophecy?" He crosses his arms, disappointment clear in his expression. "I was expecting something a bit more… world-shattering."
Thalor was indignant. "You don't understand, Zephry! This isn't just a trinket. The Eye of Wisdom is said to hold insights into paths that can save—or doom—entire kingdoms!"
"Save it for the historians," Zephry replied, already striding toward Clark, who silently handed him a faintly glowing compass—a tracker enchanted to lock onto the divine signature of powerful entities. "Looks like it's leading us to your old friend Sorven," he remarked with a smirk.
Thalor was clueless as they were speaking some language unfamiliar to him before he could speak up Clark cast a spell and a magic circle formed under them and they get transported to the city of Eldrion
As Thalor stood in the strange new place, his senses swimming from the disorienting magic, he felt the ground beneath him solidify, and a city unfolded before his eyes. Tall spires and grand temples stretched toward the heavens, their architecture is ancient and intricate. Everything radiated a quiet power, yet it felt unfamiliar and overwhelming.
"Huh… where are we?" Thalor asked, bewildered.
"This is Eldrion," Zephry replied with a smirk. "The capital city of your god's faith, the heart of Sorven's influence." His voice carried a trace of disdain as he surveyed the sacred city with casual indifference.
"But Thalor," Zephry added, his tone taking on a sharp edge, "you need to understand something. No god has given you true free will. Sorven binds you, like all the others, with promises of power, of protection. You sell your loyalty for the price of faith, chaining yourself to a god's whim. Think about that before you give yourself so freely."
Thalor blinked, thrown by Zephry's words. Before he could respond, Zephry snapped his fingers, and the two of them—Zephry and Clark—vanished, leaving him alone in the hallowed city.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________
Elsewhere, in a Higher Dimension
Far beyond the mortal realm, Sorven, the god of wisdom, watched from his sanctum—a vast space of ethereal light and shifting shadows, with screens of energy floating before him, displaying images of his dwindling worshippers. His followers had once thrived, but over recent years, the other divine powers—gods of might and conquest—had turned their forces against him. Sorven, a god focused on knowledge and enlightenment, lacked warriors to defend his temples, and his people began to lose faith as their villages and cities fell.
He knew the rules of the divine all too well: gods existed only as long as they were worshiped. Faith bound him to the realm of existence; without it, he was nothing.
In desperation, Sorven had sent a vision to the one mortal he could still rely on—the devout Thalor. He had shown him the path to the Eye of Wisdom, a powerful relic hidden beneath his temple in Eldrion, surrounded by trials that would test even the most faithful. If Thalor could retrieve it, Sorven could make him an apostle, a vessel of his power on the mortal plane. With the Eye in Thalor's hands, his followers would rally again, their faith rekindled, and Sorven's divine power would be restored.
But Sorven's plan was unraveling. The screens before him flickered, displaying two strangers—the mage Zephry and his companion Clark—bypassing every trial meant for Thalor, reaching the Eye of Wisdom with terrifying ease. And worse, Sorven could feel Thalor's faith faltering, slipping through his grasp as Zephry spoke words of doubt. Panic spread through him. His last hope, his carefully laid plans—stolen from him by these interlopers.
Suddenly, the air around Sorven trembled, and a fissure formed in the fabric of his sanctum, widening as intense, chaotic energy poured through. Sorven staggered back, the overwhelming pressure forcing him to his knees. He knew that energy all too well.
"No… no…This energy" he whispered, his voice quivering with terror. "How did you find me?"