Kain sat on the damp forest floor, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His legs still burned from the mad sprint out of the cavern, but that pain was nothing compared to the storm raging in his mind.
"What just happened in there?" he finally managed to say, glaring at Orin.
Orin leaned against a tree, wiping his blade clean with a scrap of cloth. "I told you, didn't I? You touched the Luck of Gods. It's a big deal. Bigger than you can imagine."
"That's not an answer!" Kain snapped, his frustration boiling over. "What are those things? Why were they after me? And who even are you?"
Orin sheathed his sword, unfazed by Kain's outburst. "Slow down, farm boy. You're asking all the wrong questions."
Kain's fists clenched. "Fine. What's the right question, then?"
Orin tilted his head, his mismatched eyes glinting. "Do you want to live?"
Kain opened his mouth to retort but stopped short. The memory of those shadowy figures and their burning eyes sent a shiver down his spine. He thought of their voices, deep and guttural, promising nothing but destruction. Finally, he nodded.
"Good," Orin said. "Then stop yelling at the one person keeping you alive."
Kain's jaw tightened, but he stayed quiet.
Orin sighed and crouched beside him, his voice softening. "Listen, kid. That tablet you found? It's not just some dusty relic. It's a divine artifact, a piece of the gods' power left behind in the mortal world. They use it to tip the scales of fate, to nudge things in their favor when the balance doesn't go their way."
"That doesn't make any sense," Kain said, shaking his head.
"Of course it doesn't," Orin replied with a smirk. "But that doesn't make it any less true. You touching it? That's like a spark in the darkness. Every god out there is going to notice. Some will want to use you. Others will want to destroy you. Either way, your quiet little life is over."
Kain's stomach twisted. "But I didn't ask for this! I was just tracking a boar!"
"Doesn't matter," Orin said. "Fate doesn't care what you want. It cares what you do."
Kain ran a hand through his hair, trying to process everything. "So, what now? Do I just… run?"
Orin laughed, the sound sharp and humorless. "You can try. But the gods are persistent, and they're not bound by little things like time or distance. You'd be dead before you got anywhere safe."
Kain swallowed hard. "So what do I do?"
"That," Orin said, standing and stretching, "is where I come in."
Kain narrowed his eyes. "Why are you helping me?"
"Let's just say I have a vested interest in keeping you alive," Orin said cryptically.
Before Kain could press him further, the air around them grew colder. The shadows cast by the trees began to stretch, twisting unnaturally.
"They found us," Orin said, his voice tight.
Kain's heart jumped. "But how? We were—"
"They're gods," Orin snapped, drawing his sword. "They don't play by mortal rules."
From the darkness, a figure began to emerge. Unlike the formless shadows in the cavern, this one was solid, humanoid, and radiating an aura of power that made the air hum. It was a woman—or something resembling one—with skin that shimmered like polished obsidian and eyes that burned like molten gold. She stepped forward with a grace that was both alluring and terrifying.
"Orin," she said, her voice smooth as silk. "Still meddling where you don't belong, I see."
"Seris," Orin replied, his tone cold. "You're looking well. Still chasing scraps from the gods' table?"
Seris's smile didn't falter. "And you're still clinging to your rebellion. Tell me, how's that working out for you?"
Orin didn't respond, his grip tightening on his sword.
Her gaze shifted to Kain, and he felt as though she was staring straight into his soul. "So this is the mortal who awakened the Luck of Gods," she said, her tone curious. "You don't look like much."
Kain forced himself to meet her gaze, though his hands trembled. "I didn't mean to awaken anything. I just—"
"Oh, I know," Seris interrupted, her smile widening. "That's what makes it so delightful. Fate loves irony."
She took a step closer, and Orin moved to block her path.
"Stay where you are, Seris," he warned.
She sighed, almost theatrically. "Come now, Orin. You know you can't protect him forever. Just hand him over, and I'll make sure his end is quick."
Kain's blood ran cold.
"Not a chance," Orin said, his blade glinting in the moonlight.
Seris's smile faded, replaced by a look of disdain. "So be it."
She raised a hand, and the shadows around her surged forward like a wave. Orin reacted instantly, his sword flashing as he deflected the attack.
"Run!" he shouted at Kain.
"But—"
"Run!" Orin barked, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Kain turned and bolted, his feet pounding against the forest floor. The sounds of battle rang out behind him—metal clashing, the roar of shadows, and Orin's gritted curses.
Branches whipped at Kain's face as he ran, his lungs burning. He didn't know where he was going, only that he needed to get away. But no matter how fast he ran, the whispers of the gods seemed to follow, pressing against his mind like a storm.
He stumbled into a clearing and fell to his knees, gasping for air. The world around him seemed to spin, and the whispers grew louder.
"You can't escape us," a voice said, soft and echoing.
Kain looked up, his vision blurring. A figure stood before him, cloaked in light, their features obscured.
"You are marked by fate," the figure said, their voice both gentle and terrible. "You cannot run from what you are."
Kain tried to speak, but his voice failed him.
The figure reached out a hand, and Kain felt a warmth spreading through him, overpowering the cold fear that gripped his heart.
"Accept your destiny," the figure whispered, "or be consumed by it."
Before Kain could respond, a flash of light filled the clearing, and the world went dark.