"Your Majesty! What do you mean by a mad Necromancer God?" Modrith asked, looking confused.
"Just forget it!" Ragon said quickly, resting his hand on his chin, frustrated with himself for saying too much.
It sounded silly now. Who would believe such a thing—a god losing their mind? It didn't make any sense, even to him.
"I don't understand what you're saying your Majesty, but there was indeed a legend that stated that there was a powerful being who once commanded both life and death. The elders called him Napoleon, the God of Cycles," Modrith's voice grew quieter as he spoke, as if afraid the very words might summon something terrible.
Ragon's eyes widened. "You know of him?"
"Only fragments, your Majesty. The legend says he was once a benevolent deity who maintained the balance between life and death. He would guide souls to their proper rest and ensure new life flourished in turn. But something changed him."
