The morning after the letter arrived, Elias could still feel the lingering heat from the ritual. His body, though fully recovered, still carried the weight of the magic he had unleashed. The shadows seemed to cling to him more than usual, an eerie reminder that he had defied the gods. The air in the estate felt charged, as though the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
Rhea had already prepared the horses. She knew better than to question Elias's decisions, but there was no hiding the worry etched across her face. She had seen the toll the ritual had taken on him. The coldness in his eyes, the relentless determination that had replaced the man she had once known—he was changing, and not entirely for the better.
Elias had spent the last few hours poring over the letter again. The kingdom to the north—the one that had summoned him—was called Valthor, a land of ice and fire, where the snow never seemed to stop falling and the mountains were said to hold secrets older than the world itself. The people of Valthor had always been isolated, a kingdom built on old magics and warrior traditions. But something had changed. The letter hinted at an ancient threat, a force that had awoken deep within the frozen wastes.
"Valthor needs your help, Master Elias," Rhea had read aloud from the letter earlier, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "The gods are stirring in the north. They claim dominion over our people, but we refuse to submit."
Elias had not responded immediately. He had only stared out the window, his mind racing, trying to connect the dots. The gods were no longer content with their whispers in the shadows. They were expanding their influence, and Valthor was their next target.
"We need to leave immediately," Elias had said, his voice quiet but resolute. "They're coming for us, and we can't wait any longer."
Now, as they rode toward Valthor, the winds grew colder, whipping through the trees and sending flurries of snow into the air. The land was vast and unforgiving, the journey long and treacherous. But Elias had faced far worse than the chill of the northern winds. He was determined to uncover the truth behind the gods' plans—and to stop them before they could destroy any more lives.
The landscape stretched out before them, a frozen wilderness that seemed endless, the mountains in the distance like jagged teeth ready to swallow them whole. It was a place where the gods had once ruled, and Elias had a sinking feeling that their influence still lingered in the shadows, waiting to consume everything in its path.
As they neared the border of Valthor, Elias felt a strange sensation in the air. The winds had picked up, but it wasn't just the weather that seemed to shift. There was something else, something far more ancient, pressing against the edges of his senses. It was as if the land itself had been waiting for his arrival, a silent, oppressive force that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
They reached the gates of Valthor by nightfall, the massive stone walls towering above them. The city beyond was dark, the torches along the walls flickering like weak, dying stars. The gates creaked open slowly as Elias and Rhea approached, two soldiers standing guard, their eyes wary but respectful.
"Elias of the Divine Order," one of them greeted, his voice low and cautious. "The King is expecting you."
The guards ushered them inside, and they rode through the narrow streets, the shadows seeming to stretch and twist unnaturally as they passed. Elias could sense the tension in the air, the fear that gripped the people of Valthor. The gods' presence hung heavy over the kingdom, like an invisible storm on the horizon.
They finally arrived at the royal palace, a grand, imposing structure carved from the mountainside. The throne room was high, its walls adorned with tapestries depicting ancient battles and gods long forgotten. In the center, sitting upon a throne of ice and stone, was King Aldric of Valthor. His face was weathered, his beard streaked with silver, but his eyes were sharp, full of a wisdom and weariness that only a ruler of such a land could possess.
"Elias," the king greeted, his voice gruff but full of authority. "I thank you for answering our call."
Elias dismounted, his eyes scanning the room. "You've seen what they can do. The gods are coming for you. They won't stop until they have Valthor in their grasp."
King Aldric nodded grimly. "We have resisted them for centuries, but they grow stronger. Our magicians have felt their presence for weeks now, and there are whispers of a prophecy that speaks of a divine reckoning. Some of us think it's already begun."
Elias stepped forward, his mind racing. "A prophecy?"
The king's gaze grew distant as he spoke. "Yes. One that foretells the return of the gods to this world, and the rise of a divine leader who will usher in an age of chaos and destruction. There are those in the kingdom who believe that you, Elias, are that leader. That you are the one who has been chosen to bring about this reckoning."
Elias's breath caught in his throat. "A leader?" He shook his head, unable to process the weight of the words. "No. That's not what I've come for. I'm not a leader. I'm here to stop the gods."
Aldric studied him carefully. "That may be true, but the prophecy doesn't care what you want, Elias. It's already set in motion. The gods have chosen you, whether you like it or not."
Elias clenched his fists, his mind spinning. "I didn't choose this. I didn't choose any of this."
Rhea stepped forward, her voice soft but firm. "If you're right, Elias, we don't have a choice either. The gods are coming. And they'll destroy everything in their path if we don't stop them."
The king rose from his throne, walking slowly toward Elias. "You may not have chosen this path, but you must walk it now. And you're not alone. We will stand with you, Elias. Valthor will not fall."
Elias met the king's gaze, and for the first time since the ritual, he felt a flicker of hope stir within him. Perhaps he was not alone in this fight after all. "Then let's stop them together."
---
As Elias and Rhea prepared to leave the throne room, a new sense of determination began to form within him. The gods might have chosen him for their purpose, but he would turn that purpose against them. He had no intention of letting the prophecy unfold as they wished.
The fate of Valthor—and perhaps the entire world—rested on the edge of a knife. Elias had no idea what the coming days would bring, but one thing was certain: the gods had made a grave mistake by choosing him.