Elias stood on the balcony of the royal palace, gazing out over the icy expanse of Valthor. The city spread below him, a labyrinth of stone and snow, with torches flickering in the distance like scattered embers. The wind howled through the narrow streets, carrying with it an eerie whisper that seemed to echo the gods' distant call. The gods had chosen him, and whether he liked it or not, they were shaping his fate.
He had barely slept since arriving in Valthor. The weight of King Aldric's words, the prophecy, and the pressure of his own uncertain path weighed heavily on him. Every night, the dreams came—the gods' voices growing louder, their demands growing stronger, until he would wake in a cold sweat, his heart racing. And each day, as he walked through the icy halls of the palace, the people's eyes would follow him, some with hope, others with fear. They, too, knew what the prophecy meant.
And yet, Elias still couldn't bring himself to believe it. He was not their leader. He was just a man—a necromancer who had defied the gods. But in the eyes of Valthor's people, his very existence was a sign. They saw him as the one who could stop the darkness or usher it in.
The faint sound of footsteps behind him pulled him from his thoughts. Rhea had arrived, her face a mask of concern but also resolve. She had been silent ever since their conversation with King Aldric, but Elias could feel the uncertainty in her heart, as though she was trying to piece together what all of this meant for them.
"You haven't slept, have you?" Rhea asked softly, her voice gentle but filled with worry.
Elias didn't turn to face her. His eyes remained fixed on the horizon. "There's no time for sleep." His voice was low, almost hollow. "They're coming for us, Rhea. The gods. I can feel them—closer now than ever before."
Rhea stepped closer, her presence a comfort amidst the growing storm of thoughts swirling in his mind. "The prophecy..."
He turned to face her finally, his expression hardened, eyes burning with a mix of determination and fear. "I don't care about the prophecy. I care about stopping them. And if that means destroying everything they've built in this world, so be it."
Rhea reached out, placing a hand on his arm, grounding him. "You're not alone in this, Elias. You know that, don't you?"
He looked down at her hand, then met her eyes. The words stuck in his throat. He wanted to tell her that he feared what was coming, but he couldn't. Not now. He had to be strong. For her, for Valthor, and for himself.
"I know."
But deep inside, doubt gnawed at him. The gods had always been one step ahead. Could he really stop them? And if he couldn't, what would happen to Rhea? To Valthor? To everyone?
---
The next day, Elias was summoned to a meeting with the royal council, a group of powerful mages, warriors, and elders who ruled alongside King Aldric. They were aware of the prophecy, and despite their own fear, they were determined to fight back. The council convened in a high chamber adorned with relics of the past—ancient armor, weapons imbued with long-forgotten magic, and tomes filled with knowledge that had been preserved through generations.
As Elias entered the room, the council members fell silent, their eyes studying him intently. He could feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on him. They saw him as their last hope, the key to their survival. But Elias wasn't sure he was ready to bear that weight.
King Aldric stood at the head of the table, his expression serious. "Elias, we have much to discuss. The gods' presence has been growing in the north for weeks now. We know they're planning something—something far more dangerous than we can comprehend. The prophecy speaks of a divine reckoning, but it also speaks of a key—someone who will rise to challenge them. We believe that key is you."
Elias glanced at Rhea, who stood beside him, her face as unreadable as his own. "You've put a lot of faith in me," he said, his voice steady but laced with uncertainty. "I'm not the hero you think I am. I'm not the one you should rely on."
One of the elder mages, a woman named Aelira, stepped forward. She was old, her face lined with age and experience, but her eyes gleamed with an intensity that seemed to cut through the fog of uncertainty. "Perhaps not, Elias. But you are the only one with the power to face them. You've defied the gods already. You have a strength they cannot anticipate."
Elias shook his head. "It's not enough. The gods' power is beyond anything I can imagine. I've seen the destruction they can cause. I've felt it. The ritual I performed was just a small step in freeing myself from their influence. I don't have enough power to challenge them head-on."
Aelira studied him for a moment, her eyes sharp and discerning. "You underestimate yourself, Elias. You are no ordinary necromancer. What you've done, what you've already faced, proves that you are capable of much more than you think. You are not just fighting for yourself anymore. You are fighting for all of us—for Valthor, and for the future of this world."
King Aldric stepped forward, his expression firm. "You will not fight alone, Elias. We will stand with you. We have prepared our armies, our mages, and our strongest warriors. The gods may be ancient and powerful, but we are not helpless. We will fight back."
Elias felt the weight of their gazes. Each one of them believed in him, but the burden of their hopes felt suffocating. "And how do you plan to fight them? How do you plan to stop them from destroying everything in their path?"
Aelira raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "That, Elias, is where you come in. We have uncovered something—a key to the gods' power. A relic of immense importance. It is said to be able to disrupt their divine influence, even break their hold over this world."
Elias's pulse quickened. "A relic?"
The mage nodded. "Yes. It's known as the Heart of Valthor, a long-lost artifact forged in the fires of the gods themselves. It was said to be lost during the great wars, but our scholars believe it still exists."
Elias frowned. "Where is it?"
Aelira looked at the others in the room, then back at Elias. "It is hidden deep within the heart of the northern mountains, in a place known as the Vault of Eternity. It is a dangerous journey, fraught with peril, but it is the only chance we have."
Elias stood still for a moment, absorbing the weight of their words. The Heart of Valthor—a relic capable of breaking the gods' hold. It sounded too good to be true, but in this world, where gods could be bent on destruction, hope was a fragile thing.
He turned to Rhea, her steady presence a silent reassurance. She nodded at him, her expression determined.
"We'll find it, Elias," she said, her voice unwavering. "Together."
Elias took a deep breath, the resolve hardening within him. "Then let's go."