Leon's mind stirred as if emerging from a deep, dreamless sleep. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, his senses awoke with him.
The faint scent of damp stone, the cool breeze brushing against his skin, and the soft golden light filtering through the shrine filled his awareness.
His eyes fluttered open.
It took a moment for him to register what he was seeing. The ceiling of the shrine, carved with intricate runes and symbols, loomed above him, faintly glowing in the early morning light.
He shifted slightly and felt the cool, unyielding surface of the stone altar beneath him.
I'm… awake?
Leon blinked, his thoughts sluggish as if trying to catch up with the reality before him. He raised a hand in front of his face, staring at it as if it were a foreign object.
His fingers were longer, his palms broader, and his once-childish skin now bore the faint marks of time.
How long has it been?
His body felt heavy and unfamiliar, as though it belonged to someone else. Every movement came with difficulty, his muscles protesting after years of stillness. He managed to push himself upright, his legs dangling off the edge of the altar.
The act of sitting up left him breathless. He looked down at his legs, now longer and sturdier than he remembered, and flexed his fingers experimentally.
"I've… grown," he murmured, his voice hoarse and cracking.
His throat felt dry, and his stomach ached with hunger—a sharp, insistent reminder of the time that had passed. His gaze swept over the altar and the offerings piled around it.
Baskets of apples, woven garlands, and small clay figurines lay arranged in neat rows. He reached out with unsteady hands and grabbed an apple, its smooth surface cool against his palm.
The first bite was crisp and sweet, the flavor bursting on his tongue. He closed his eyes, savoring the sensation. It was the first thing he had tasted in years—or so he assumed.
How long have I been like this? he wondered. And why now?
He continued to eat, each bite restoring a bit of strength to his weary body. The shrine was quiet, save for the faint rustle of leaves and the soft chirping of birds in the distance.
For a brief moment, it almost felt peaceful.
But as the silence stretched on, Leon's thoughts began to churn.
He remembered fragments of his life before this—his struggles at the academy, his friendship with Mikel and Lyra, and the moment it all came to an end. The betrayal. The knives. The pain.
And now, this.
He glanced at the offerings surrounding him, at the baskets of fruit and garlands left in reverence. The realization struck him like a blow to the chest.
They think I'm a god.
The weight of it settled heavily on his shoulders. He didn't feel like a god. He felt like a boy—no, a man—who had been torn from his life and placed on a pedestal he hadn't asked for.
How am I supposed to live up to this?
The soft clatter of something falling broke Leon's train of thought. His head snapped toward the sound, his movements unsteady but quick.
Near the shrine's entrance, a group of villagers stood frozen, their wide eyes locked on him. One of them, a young woman, had dropped the clay plate she had been carrying. It lay in pieces at her feet.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Leon stared at them, his heart pounding in his chest. What do I do? What do I say?
Then, as if the tension had snapped, the villagers dropped to their knees, bowing low before him.
"Great Relethis," one of them whispered, their voice trembling.
Leon swallowed hard, his hands gripping the edge of the altar. They really think I'm their god. They've waited for this moment for so long. What am I supposed to do?
His first instinct was to deny it, to tell them the truth. But as he looked at their bowed forms, he hesitated. Their reverence, their faith—it wasn't just about him. It was about the hope they had clung to for years, perhaps even generations.
If I tell them the truth… what happens to all of that?
Leon took a deep breath, trying to steady the chaos in his mind. He didn't have answers, but he knew one thing: he couldn't crush their faith. Not after everything they had done for him.
Slowly, he nodded, his movements deliberate. "Rise," he said, his voice rough and unfamiliar to his own ears.
The villagers hesitated, then obeyed, lifting their heads to look at him with wide, awestruck eyes.
"You… you have returned," one of them whispered. The others murmured their agreement, their expressions a mix of fear and joy.
Leon simply nodded again, keeping his face neutral. Don't overthink it. Just act calm. They need you to be calm.
One of the villagers, an older man with graying hair, stepped forward cautiously. "Great Relethis," he said, his voice quivering with emotion. "We have waited so long for this day. Forgive us if we are unworthy of your presence."
Leon's throat tightened, but he forced himself to respond. "You have… done well."
The man's face lit up with relief, and he dropped to his knees once more. "Thank you, great one. Thank you."
The young woman who had dropped the plate suddenly scrambled to her feet. "We must tell the others!" she exclaimed, her voice breaking the silence like a clap of thunder.
The group nodded fervently, and within moments, they were running down the shrine's steps toward the village below.
Leon watched them go, his heart pounding as their voices faded into the distance. He set the half-eaten apple down beside him, his appetite suddenly gone.
This is really happening, he thought, his mind racing. They're going to tell everyone. What do I do when they all come here?
The weight of their faith pressed down on him like a boulder. He wasn't ready for this—he wasn't ready for any of it.
But as he sat there, alone once more, a strange sense of resolve began to settle in his chest.
I can't let them down, he thought. They believe in me, even if I don't deserve it. I'll figure it out… somehow.
As the villagers rushed toward the main square, their cries of joy echoed through the sleeping village.
"Relethis has awakened!"
The announcement jolted others awake, and soon, the square was alive with activity. Lanterns were lit, and people gathered in clusters, their expressions a mix of disbelief and excitement.
"Is it true?" a young boy asked, clutching his mother's hand.
"Yes!" the young woman from the shrine exclaimed, breathless from her run. "I saw him with my own eyes. He sat up, spoke to us—he's alive!"
A cheer erupted from the crowd, and people began organizing themselves to climb the shrine steps and see for themselves.
Tovik, the chieftain, emerged from his hut, his staff in hand and his face grim with determination.
"Calm yourselves!" he bellowed, silencing the crowd. "We will go to the shrine in an orderly fashion. The great Relethis has returned, but we must not overwhelm him. Prepare offerings and bring food. This is a sacred moment."
The villagers nodded, hurrying to gather fruits, flowers, and anything else they thought might honor their god.