The flickering campfire cast long shadows across the forest clearing, where the members of the Shattered Dawn had gathered. Though they all shared a common goal, the air between them crackled with tension. Garen sat at the edge of the firelight, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he studied the faces around him. Each bore marks of a hard life—scars, hollow eyes, and weary postures. They had fought their own battles against the gods, but now their gazes lingered on Garen, wary and questioning.
Kallus stepped forward, his voice cutting through the uneasy silence. "We've made it this far because we trust each other. But now we follow a man who is half-god." He turned to face Garen, his eyes sharp. "You wield powers we can barely comprehend. How do we know you won't betray us?"
Garen's grip tightened on his sword. "If I wanted to betray you, I wouldn't be sitting here now. I'd be hunting down the gods myself."
"And yet you are Eryndor's son," Kallus pressed, his tone colder now. "The blood of the Pantheon flows through your veins. How do we know you're not just another piece in their game?"
The murmurs around the fire grew louder, unease spreading through the group. Garen stood, his towering presence silencing the crowd. His eyes burned with a mixture of anger and grief.
"I lost Lyra because of the gods," he said, his voice low but cutting. "They killed her. They've manipulated me and everyone I've ever cared about for countless lifetimes. Do you think I would fight this hard to stop them if I were their pawn?"
Kallus didn't flinch. "Words mean little, Garen. Prove it to us. Prove you're one of us."
The challenge hung in the air, and Garen's gaze met Kallus's. For a moment, the clearing was silent, the tension almost unbearable. Then Garen stepped forward, drawing his blade. The Aetherstone embedded in its hilt pulsed faintly, its power restrained but undeniable.
"If a fight is what you want," Garen said, his tone deadly calm, "then let's settle this here and now."
Kallus smirked faintly and unsheathed a pair of curved daggers. "You misunderstand. This isn't about fighting me. It's about facing what's ahead together. There's a temple nearby, abandoned by the gods but still guarded by their constructs. If you're truly one of us, lead us through it and claim what's inside. Show us you're willing to bleed for this cause."
The other members of the Shattered Dawn murmured their agreement, and Garen felt their eyes on him, weighing his every move. He nodded slowly, sliding his sword back into its sheath.
"Fine," he said. "I'll lead."
The temple loomed before them, a monolithic structure of black stone covered in twisting vines. Its gates were carved with scenes of divine triumphs, a stark reminder of the Pantheon's dominance. As they stepped inside, the air grew cold, and an unnatural silence enveloped them.
The first attack came swiftly. A massive stone guardian, its eyes glowing with golden light, lunged from the shadows. Its movements were impossibly fast for something so large, and its fists struck with the force of a collapsing mountain.
Garen moved instinctively, the power of the Aetherstone surging through him. His blade met the guardian's strike, and the clash sent a shockwave through the temple. He pushed back with a roar, his energy flaring as he drove the construct to its knees. Behind him, the Shattered Dawn fought off smaller constructs, their skills honed but no match for Garen's raw power.
As the final guardian fell, the temple's central chamber opened, revealing a pedestal upon which rested a crystalline shard—a fragment of the Chrono Relic. Garen approached it cautiously, his hand outstretched.
"This is just the beginning," Kallus said from behind him. "If we're to trust you, we need to see you fight for more than yourself."
Garen's hand closed around the shard, and the room pulsed with a sudden wave of energy. Visions flashed through his mind—fragments of his past lives, battles fought and lost, faces he had loved and forgotten. When the energy subsided, he turned to the group, his resolve unshaken.
"I'm with you," he said firmly.
Kallus nodded, though his expression remained guarded. "Then let's move. The gods will have felt that."
As they exited the temple, the forest was unnaturally quiet. Garen's senses prickled, and he scanned the treetops, his hand drifting to his sword.
"Show yourself," he said, his voice cutting through the stillness.
A figure dropped from the shadows, landing lightly before them. His silver hair gleamed in the moonlight, and his twin daggers glinted with divine energy. Garen's breath caught as he recognized him.
"Kael," he said, his voice laced with both surprise and caution.
Kael's smirk was faint, almost bitter. "Hello, brother. It seems we have much to discuss."