From the rift stepped Zephry and Clark, their forms solidifying as they crossed into the divine realm. Sorven tried to summon his power, to shield himself, but it felt as though the very essence of his being was slipping away, dissipating in the presence of this intruder.
Zephry's gaze fixed on him, calm and predatory, as if surveying a creature caught in a snare. "Sorven," he said, almost pleasantly. "It's been a while since I paid a god a visit."
As Sorven knelt trembling, he couldn't bring himself to meet Zephry's gaze. Memories of a world lost to chaos surged through his mind—a world where he'd once stood among a pantheon of gods, worshiped by millions, surrounded by towering temples and loyal followers. They had thrived until Zephry intervened, turning their peace to ruin.
In that distant world, Zephry had been a force unlike anything the gods had ever encountered. When the demon king had risen, plunging the land into darkness, Sorven and his fellow gods had tried to intervene, each wielding their powers to protect their creations. But Zephry had appeared, disrupting the divine order and throwing the balance into chaos. Those who opposed him—Sorven's allies, gods of strength, Health , and compassion—had been erased from existence, one by one. Their domains fell to ashes, their followers scattered, and their names forgotten.
Sorven alone had managed to survive, fleeing into the void as his world collapsed around him. Through sheer will, he had managed to escape, carrying only fragments of his lost power. He had found a small, empty corner of the cosmos—a safe haven where he could rebuild with two other gods. Out of desperation, he'd crafted this new world, shaping it from his remaining divine essence. Here, he had begun anew, seeding the land with life, quietly rebuilding his strength, gathering followers once more. He hoped, in time, to restore what he had lost.
Zephry's expression was unreadable as he studied the weakened god before him, but his eyes gleamed with quiet satisfaction. "So, Sorven," he drawled, his tone almost teasing. "Running from world to world, scraping together whatever fragments of power you can find. Quite the fall from grace."
Sorven clenched his jaw, his gaze fixed on the white floor as he forced himself to his feet. The sanctum's energy wavered around him. "I did what I had to do, Zephry," he murmured, his voice a mix of defiance and resignation. "You shattered my world, wiped out my kin. I had no choice but to start anew."
"And so here you are, clinging to the threads of mortal faith like a drowning man to driftwood," Zephry replied, a smirk tugging at his lips. He looked around, taking in the weakened sanctum with mild amusement. "Impressive, though. You managed to stitch together a whole new realm. I guess the god of wisdom still has a few tricks left."
"Why are you here, Zephry? Haven't you done enough?" His tone held a fragile defiance, masking the tremor of fear that betrayed him.
"Oh, Sorven," Zephry replied with a smirk. "Enough? I'm here for entertainment—and to see how things play out with your little follower, Thalor."
Sorven's expression shifted slightly, his divine pride reasserting itself. "Thalor is a devoted follower, a servant of wisdom and light. He may not be perfect, but he is loyal."
Zephry laughed, an almost sinister sound. "Is that so? I've seen his doubts, his wavering faith. For all his ambition, he still questions himself—and you." Zephry's eyes narrowed. "But there's potential in him. Let's see if you truly believe in his devotion, Sorven. Make him your apostle."
The demand hit Sorven like a blow. He recoiled instinctively. "You… you can't be serious. His faith has faltered. How could I make someone like him my apostle? He's not worthy."
Zephry's gaze darkened, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. "Oh, he will be worthy. I'll ensure that. And you… will make him an apostle."
Sorven's resistance faltered as he felt Zephry's power press down on him like an iron weight. Zephry's very presence seemed to drain the sanctity of the divine realm, filling it with a creeping sense of decay. Sorven, knowing the futility of defiance, lowered his head, conceding.
"Very well,I will do after he passes one last test" Sorven said through gritted teeth, forcing himself to accept. "I will make him my apostle, though I doubt he understands what it truly means to carry my divine essence."
Zephry's smirk returned. "Oh, I think he'll learn."
______________________________________
The main temple of Sorven loomed before Thalor, a towering structure of white marble veined with silver. Massive columns, inscribed with prayers and ancient symbols, framed the entrance, while the walls shimmered faintly with embedded gemstones that glinted like stars in the dimming light. At the heart of Eldrion, the temple was revered by all, a symbol of Sorven's power and wisdom.
As Thalor approached, he could feel his heartbeat quicken. The Eye of Wisdom, the divine artifact bestowed upon him by Sorven, lay hidden beneath his cloak. Its weight felt both comforting and daunting, a reminder of the god's power now entrusted to him.
Inside, the grand hall was empty save for a few clerks, the evening's last candles flickering in their sconces. Thalor approached the main desk, where a clerk sat hunched over a ledger, barely glancing up.
"I need to speak with the high priest," Thalor said, his voice low but firm. "It's a matter of great importance."
The clerk scoffed, still not looking up. "The high priest does not entertain visitors at this hour. Come back tomorrow."
Just as Thalor began to protest, a second-class priest, Brother Valen, approached, his face twisting into a sneer as he recognized him. "Well, well," he drawled. "Who do we have here? Thalor Casteller, the last of the fallen family." His voice was loud enough for others nearby to hear, drawing their attention. "Tell me, disciple, what brings you to the temple? Perhaps a prayer for the honor your family squandered after failing to save our disciples?"
Thalor remembers the day his family fell there was only a minimal suppot from the temple but the opponent forces were huge compared to theirs
Thalor's hands clenched at his sides, but he forced himself to stay calm. "I'm here on a mission from Sorven himself," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I possess the Eye of Wisdom, our god's sacred artifact."
Valen threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing around the chamber. "The Eye of Wisdom? A mere myth, written down by overzealous scribes centuries ago! Don't insult us with fairy tales, Casteller. Or are you so desperate for attention that you'll claim anything?"
Thalor's patience frayed as he glared at the priest. "You, a servant of Sorven, dismiss his teachings as 'myth'? What message does that send to disciples? To the faithful? You're no better than—"
Brother Valen's expression darkened as he cut Thalor off. "Enough. Your place is to serve, not question your superiors. You bring shame upon this temple, prattling on about sacred relics like a lunatic." He reached out, his hand hovering over Thalor's cloak. "If this artifact of yours is so real, let us see it."
Reluctantly, Thalor withdrew the Eye of Wisdom, holding it out for Valen and the few onlookers who had gathered. A crystal sphere with intricate patterns carved into its surface, it gleamed with a faint, internal light. Thalor could feel the divine energy pulsing within it, as though it were alive, yet as he tried to channel that power to prove himself, the Eye remained silent, its glow fading to nothing.
Valen smirked, his eyes filled with triumph. "The Eye of Wisdom," he said mockingly, holding it up for all to see. "A piece of glass, nothing more. And you dare bring this before the temple, claiming it as sacred?" His tone turned sharp. "Seize him. Let the disciple learn what happens when he defies the church."
Guards moved quickly, restraining Thalor as the Eye was confiscated. Despite his protests, he was dragged out to the courtyard, where word of his "heresy" spread swiftly among priests and disciples, who gathered in shocked murmurs to witness the punishment. Bound and forced to his knees, Thalor was met with cold, pitying gazes as a soldier arrived with a whip in hand.
Inside the temple, meanwhile, Valen brought the Eye of Wisdom to the high priest's private chambers, eager to reveal the so-called "artifact" and confirm Thalor's folly. But as he held it before the high priest, a faint pulse began to emanate from the crystal, sending a chill through the room.
Outside, in the fading light of dusk, Thalor was bound to a stone pillar as the whip cracked against his back. Pain lanced through him with every strike, each one harsher than the last, as if to break not just his body but his spirit. He clenched his teeth, determined not to cry out, though every muscle in his body screamed in agony.
Just then, as the priest raised the whip for another strike, the Eye of Wisdom flared to life within the high priest's hands. It wrenched itself from Valen's grip, breaking free and hurtling toward the courtyard like a bolt of lightning. Thalor, weakened, glanced up, and his eyes widened as he saw the Eye speeding toward him, blazing with divine light.
As the Eye reached thalor it merged with him and thalor started to Emmitt immense divine power and light his wounds healed and the chain broke down as he move forward
The high priest, having reached the courtyard, stopped abruptly, his eyes wide with reverence. The sight of Thalor's glowing form overwhelmed him, and he fell to his knees, his voice booming across the stunned gathering. "THE PROXY OF OUR GOD HAS AWAKENED! WE GREET THE APOSTILE OF OUR GOD!"
At his pronouncement, the crowd gasped, and one by one, priests and disciples alike sank to their knees, bowing their heads in awe. Even Valen, trembling and pale, dropped to the ground, his earlier arrogance shattered.