The moon hung low in the sky, its pale light casting long shadows across the courtyard. Inside the estate, Elias sat in his study, the heavy wooden door shut against the restless night. A flickering candle illuminated his desk, where scattered scrolls and ancient texts lay open. His fingers grazed over the pages, tracing the symbols and incantations, his mind lost in the complexity of the gods' magic.
He could feel their presence at the edge of his consciousness, a constant, insistent pull—a reminder of the power they had given him and the price that would come due. He had thought that by uncovering the truth of the orb, he could control it, bend it to his will. But as the days passed, the weight of the knowledge he had gained had become too much to bear.
Rhea stood by the window, her arms crossed over her chest. The storm had passed, but the oppressive air lingered, as if the very world around them had changed. She had been quiet since their return, her eyes constantly watching Elias, ever aware of the toll the gods' magic was taking on him.
"You've been at this for hours," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "You need to rest. The magic… it's consuming you."
Elias didn't look up from the texts. "I can't afford to rest, Rhea. The gods are watching. They'll never allow me to slip from their grasp, not while I still serve their will."
Rhea's eyes softened, but there was no trace of pity in them. She had seen what the magic did to him. His once-steady hands had become twitchy, his eyes more haunted with every passing day. She had seen it in the way he stared off into nothingness, as if listening to voices only he could hear. The gods were taking hold of him, and she knew that if he didn't find a way to break free, they would drag him into the abyss.
"Elias, you don't have to do this," she said, her voice pleading for the first time. "There's always another way. We could leave. We could run, and they wouldn't—"
"No!" Elias slammed his fist onto the desk, the force of the movement making the candlelight flicker wildly. "There is no running, Rhea. I made a choice, and now I have to see it through. They won't stop until they have me completely, and I will not be their puppet."
His words hung in the air, charged with a bitter resolve. The anger that had once served as a spark for his ambition was now a consuming fire, and Rhea could see it burning him from the inside out. She had known Elias long enough to understand that when his mind was set, nothing could sway him. But this time, she wasn't sure if his determination was the strength that had once made him so capable, or if it was his hubris driving him toward destruction.
Rhea stepped forward slowly, her gaze soft but resolute. "Then you must be careful. The gods will not hesitate to take what they are owed. And when they do, there will be nothing left of you."
Elias's expression hardened, but he said nothing. He had already heard the warnings from others—warnings from those who had fallen under the gods' influence before. But none of them had the power he now wielded. None of them had the knowledge of the ancient arts, the forbidden spells that could break the chains of divine servitude. And none of them had the resolve to fight back.
The door to the study creaked open, interrupting the tense silence between them. A soldier, one of Elias's trusted men, stepped inside. His face was pale, his expression grim.
"Master," the soldier began, his voice shaky. "There's something you need to see."
Elias turned his gaze toward him, his irritation barely hidden. "What is it, Merek?"
The soldier swallowed hard, clearly nervous under Elias's intense stare. "It's the village. Just north of here. They… they've gone silent. No one's seen anyone for days. We've sent scouts, but they haven't returned."
A chill ran down Elias's spine, and for a moment, the room seemed to grow colder. "Silent? What do you mean silent?"
Merek hesitated, his eyes darting nervously. "The villagers—they've all disappeared. There are no signs of struggle, no bodies. Just… emptiness. The entire village is gone, Master."
Elias stood abruptly, his chair scraping harshly against the stone floor. "What are you waiting for? Gather a team. We're going to investigate."
Rhea moved to stand beside him, her expression tense. "This is more than just a village disappearing, Elias. It could be the gods—"
"I don't care," Elias cut her off, his voice cold. "If they want to show their power, then let them. I'll find out what's really happening, and I'll deal with it."
The soldier nodded and hurried to leave, but Elias's mind was already racing. The village—why had it vanished? Was this the gods flexing their power? A warning to him? Or something worse, a sign of the endgame to come? He didn't know, but he knew he couldn't wait any longer. The answers lay beyond the estate, and he would have them.
---
The journey to the village was swift, but it was unlike any mission Elias had ever embarked on. The roads were eerily quiet, with no travelers in sight, and the forest that flanked the path seemed to close in around them. The further they traveled, the more oppressive the silence became. It was as if the very air had grown heavy, as though the land itself was holding its breath.
When they arrived at the village, Elias immediately felt the unsettling stillness that hung in the air. The houses were intact, but no smoke rose from the chimneys. There were no sounds of animals or people. The entire place was abandoned—left in a state of unnatural suspension.
"Where is everyone?" Rhea asked, her voice low and uneasy.
Elias didn't answer immediately. Instead, he approached one of the houses, his steps deliberate. The door was slightly ajar, and as he pushed it open, the faint scent of decay hit him. It wasn't just that the villagers had disappeared—something had happened here, something dark and unnatural.
"Spread out," Elias ordered to the soldiers, his voice commanding. "Search every house, every corner of this village. We need answers, now."
As they moved through the empty streets, Elias's heart began to race. There was something wrong here—something deeper than just a disappearance. The villagers had vanished, yes, but there was no sign of struggle. No blood, no bodies. It was as if they had simply… ceased to exist.
He approached the village square, and that's when he saw it—a massive symbol carved into the ground. It was an ancient sigil, one that he recognized from the texts he had studied. A mark of the gods. His stomach twisted in horror as he realized the implications. The gods had not simply taken the villagers—they had erased them from existence.
"No…" Elias whispered under his breath, the weight of the realization crashing down on him.
He had made a grave mistake. The gods had no intention of just using him—they were using everything, every life, every soul, to fuel their power.
"They're coming for me."
The words were a whisper, but they carried a sense of finality. Elias had thought he could control the gods, challenge them, even defy them. But the gods had no need for a mere mortal to challenge them—they had the power to bend the world itself.
And now, Elias was the only thing standing in their way.