Rovan stood frozen in the town square, the cryptic warning from the dead man's lips echoing in his mind. The world around him felt unreal—fractured ground, the risen dead wandering aimlessly, and villagers whispering in fear.
What have I done? he thought, his fists clenching.
He needed answers, and only one person could help. He made his way toward the mage's tower, his hammer strapped tightly to his back. But when he reached the tall, twisted structure, it wasn't the mage who greeted him.
The Woman in Green stepped out of the shadows. Her emerald gown shimmered in the dim light, and her eyes glinted like jewels in the dark.
"Looking for someone?" she purred, a sly smile curling her lips.
Rovan stiffened. "Where's the mage?"
"Busy," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "But I can help you. In fact, I've been waiting for you, blacksmith."
Rovan's suspicion flared, but before he could respond, she took a step closer, her voice soft and alluring.
"You've awakened forces beyond your control," she said, her fingers brushing his arm. "But there is a way to stop this chaos."
His breath hitched at the touch, his mind suddenly foggy. "What way?"
Her smile widened, and she moved closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You and I, hand in hand, working together. Only then can we bring balance back to the land."
Her hand lingered on his chest, her eyes locking with his. For a moment, Rovan felt himself drawn to her—her beauty, her presence, the promise in her gaze.
But then, he shook his head, breaking free of the haze. Gently but firmly, he pushed her hand away. "This isn't about us," he said, his voice steady. "The land must be saved first. Nothing else matters."
Her smile faltered, but only for a moment. She tilted her head, studying him with a new intensity. "Very well," she said, stepping back. "But we'll revisit this... another time."
Rovan ignored the shiver that ran down his spine at her words. "What's your solution?"
"The emperor," she said simply, her tone turning serious. "He must go into the chamber where the Gifted were kept."
Rovan frowned. "Why? What does that have to do with anything?"
"The chamber is tied to the emperor's bloodline," she explained. "His presence will awaken its true purpose. And then it must be sealed—with his blood."
Rovan's eyes narrowed. "Sealed? What does that mean? Are you saying he has to die?"
She shrugged, her expression unreadable. "The cost of peace is often high. But the choice isn't mine to make. It's yours."
"No," Rovan said firmly. "I won't lead him to his death."
The Woman in Green gave him a long, unreadable look. Then, she turned, her voice soft but cutting. "You've already seen the chaos spreading. The dead are rising, the earth is breaking. You don't have time to hesitate, blacksmith. Do what must be done, or watch your world burn."
Before he could respond, she vanished into the shadows, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
Days passed, and the chaos only grew worse. Rovan tried to focus on finding another solution, but with each passing moment, the signs became clearer. The dead were no longer harmless—they were beginning to remember pieces of their past lives. Some grew violent, lashing out at those around them.
The ground continued to quake, splitting roads and toppling buildings. Villagers fled in terror, their cries filling the air.
Rovan sat by his forge one evening, his head in his hands. He had resisted the Woman in Green's plan, hoping for another way, but now he realized the truth. There was no other choice.
He stood, his jaw set. If the emperor was the key to ending this nightmare, then he had to act.
Convincing the mage was no easy task. When Rovan arrived at the palace, the mage was furious.
"You want me to take the emperor back into that cursed chamber?" the mage hissed. "He's barely recovered from the freezing incident!"
"I don't care," Rovan snapped. "People are dying. Villages are collapsing. The dead are walking the streets! Do you want this to continue?"
The mage's glare softened into something closer to defeat. "You don't understand what you're asking," he said quietly.
"I understand more than you think," Rovan replied. "This land is breaking apart. If we don't act now, there won't be anything left to save."
After a long silence, the mage nodded reluctantly. "Fine. I'll speak to the emperor."
The emperor was sitting upright in his chambers, but his eyes were distant, his movements slow and deliberate. He looked more like a puppet than a man.
When the mage explained the plan, the emperor's head tilted slightly, as though he were trying to comprehend.
"You want me to go... into the chamber?" he murmured, his voice weak.
"Yes," Rovan said, stepping forward. "It's the only way to end this chaos."
The emperor's gaze shifted to Rovan, and for the first time, his eyes showed a flicker of awareness. "And what happens... to me?"
Rovan hesitated, but the mage answered for him. "We don't know, Your Majesty."
The emperor let out a dry laugh. "Of course you don't."
Rovan stepped closer, his voice firm. "I won't lie to you. There's risk. But if you don't do this, the land will fall apart. Your people need you now more than ever."
For a long moment, the emperor said nothing. Then, slowly, he nodded.
"Take me to the chamber," he said.
Rovan and the mage escorted the emperor through the palace halls, the sound of distant wailing echoing behind them.
As they approached the chamber doors, Rovan's heart pounded in his chest. He had no idea what awaited them inside—or if they would survive.
The chamber was suffocatingly hot. The runes carved into the walls glowed a fiery red, their light pulsating like the beating of a massive, ancient heart. The air itself felt alive, heavy and charged, pressing against their skin with an unnatural weight.
Rovan wiped the sweat from his brow, his eyes darting to the emperor, who staggered slightly as they walked further inside. The mage followed close behind, silent and composed, though a strange intensity burned in their gaze.
The blacksmith's hammer felt like a useless weight strapped to his back. He clenched his fists instead, his instincts screaming that this was wrong.
The emperor stopped suddenly, his gaze fixed on a large rune etched into the stone floor. It glowed brighter than the others, its edges shimmering like molten metal.
"This one..." the emperor murmured, reaching out.
"No!" Rovan barked, grabbing his wrist before his fingers could touch the glowing symbol. The heat radiating from it was unbearable, even from a distance.
The emperor looked up at Rovan, his pale face illuminated by the angry red glow. His lips curved into a small, sad smile.
"Blacksmith," he said softly, his voice barely audible over the humming of the runes. "Promise me... promise me that after this, there will be peace."
Rovan froze, his grip tightening around the emperor's wrist. "What are you saying? We're going to find another way. You're not sacrificing yourself!"
The emperor shook his head slowly. "You don't understand. My blood... my life... it's tied to this land. If my sacrifice can save it, then so be it."
"No," Rovan said firmly, his voice breaking. "There has to be another way."
Behind them, the mage stepped closer, their movements calm and deliberate.
"You're wasting time," the mage said coldly.
Rovan ignored them, his focus solely on the emperor. "We'll fix this together. I swear it."
But the emperor's gaze shifted, his expression turning strange. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out. His body swayed.
Rovan felt the heat shift, and his stomach dropped. He turned sharply—
Too late.
The emperor's hand was pressed firmly against the glowing rune.
The blacksmith's heart thundered as he followed the trail of the emperor's arm to the mage's hand, which was still clasped over his, holding it in place.
"What have you done?" Rovan roared, shoving the mage back.
The emperor stumbled, his knees buckling. His skin had turned ashen, his breath shallow. His eyes fluttered shut as he collapsed into Rovan's arms.
"Emperor! Stay with me!" Rovan shouted, shaking him. But there was no response.
The mage stood silently, watching with a chilling detachment. Rovan's fury boiled over. He surged toward them, grabbing the front of their robes.
"Explain yourself!" he bellowed.
The mage's face shifted. The air shimmered, and the glamour melted away like smoke.
It wasn't the mage who stood before him now, but the Woman in Green.
"You!" Rovan hissed, his grip tightening.
Her emerald eyes glinted with cold amusement. "You wanted peace, blacksmith. I'm giving it to you."
"You lied to me!" he shouted. "You never told me this would kill him!"
"I never said it wouldn't," she said with a shrug. "The emperor's blood was always the key. You just didn't want to see it."
Rovan's chest heaved with rage, but before he could respond, a deep rumble shook the chamber. The glowing runes began to shift, their light pulsing faster and brighter.
The Woman in Green stepped back, her expression unreadable. "The choice is made," she said, her voice eerily calm. "Now we see if it was the right one."
Rovan turned back to the emperor, who lay motionless in his arms. His mind raced with questions.
Is he dead? Was this truly necessary? And what have I unleashed?
The chamber trembled again, the runes growing hotter and brighter. The ancient walls groaned, as if the very earth were waking from its slumber.
And then, the light consumed everything.