Rovan's body lay still in the real world, his breath faint and pulse weaker by the moment. The group surrounding him worked desperately to revive him, pouring cold water on his fevered face, whispering prayers, and coaxing him back to life. But their efforts seemed futile as his spirit drifted further into another realm.
***********************************************************
In the realm of gods, Rovan trudged forward on a path that felt endless. His legs ached, his body drenched in sweat, but he refused to stop. The centaur, his supposed guide, walked ahead in silence, seemingly indifferent to Rovan's struggles.
"I need answers!" Rovan called out. His voice echoed into the vast emptiness around him, but the centaur gave no response.
The path beneath his feet changed, from jagged rocks that tore at his boots to soft, slippery mud that clung to his steps. Each movement grew harder, as if the earth itself wanted to hold him back.
Finally, they arrived at a towering gate made of shimmering gold, guarded by a deity whose presence radiated an overwhelming aura. The god's voice was deep and resonant as he demanded an offering before Rovan could pass.
"I've nothing left to give," Rovan said, exhausted.
The god's eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward. "Then offer your memories. Forget the ones you've lost, and I shall allow you passage."
"No," Rovan said firmly, his voice hoarse but resolute. "I can't forget the ones I'm trying to save. Move aside."
The god glared, but Rovan pushed past him, his determination unwavering. He hoped he would not meet this god on his way back and that the gods kept no grudges as he did not wish to be stuck behind the doors.
The path ahead became increasingly treacherous. Water pooled beneath Rovan's feet, growing deeper with each step until it reached his knees, then his waist. Each step was a struggle as the murky water pulled at him, whispering voices urging him to turn back.
"Centaur!" Rovan called out again. "Where are you leading me? Speak!"
But the centaur continued forward, unmoved by Rovan's cries.
When Rovan thought he could go no further, the water receded, leaving him standing before a marble temple. The air around it shimmered like heat rising from the ground. Inside, the walls were adorned with carvings of battles, each stroke of the chisel telling a story of conquest and sacrifice.
A figure emerged from the shadows—a young woman clad in gleaming battle armor. Her hair, like molten gold, cascaded down her back, and her piercing blue eyes seemed to see through Rovan's soul. She carried a massive spear in one hand and a shield in the other.
"You've come far," she said, her voice smooth but edged with authority. "Tell me why you seek the gods."
Rovan explained his plight, recounting the chaos in his world and the torment that had led him here.
The goddess listened intently, then leaned on her spear. "You seek to save your land, but salvation comes at a cost."
Rovan braced himself. "What is your price?"
She smiled faintly. "One sacrifice. Bind yourself to me—body and soul—and I shall restore balance to your world."
Rovan froze. "Bind myself? What does that mean?"
"It means you become mine," she said simply. "My champion. My servant. My..." She paused, her gaze softening. "Partner."
He hesitated, the weight of her words sinking in. "I need to think about this."
The goddess nodded. "Do what you must, but remember this: your body is on the verge of perishing in the mortal world. Time is not on your side."
The temple grew silent, save for the faint hum of energy in the air. Rovan's thoughts raced, the goddess's offer echoing in his mind. He glanced at her once more, her figure glowing faintly with divine power.
"Choose quickly," she said, her voice a gentle warning. "Every moment wasted brings you closer to oblivion."
Rovan's breath quickened. He clenched his fists, torn between his desire to save his people and the cost of doing so.
Rovan left the goddess's marble temple, his heart heavy and his mind clouded with doubts. The centaur was waiting outside, silent as ever, his dark eyes watching Rovan with an unreadable expression.
"I don't understand them," Rovan began, his voice rising with frustration. "These gods—they demand and demand, but they do nothing. How is this supposed to help? I'm just one man! Why can't they be... helpful?"
The centaur began walking, and Rovan fell into step beside him. At first, there was only the sound of their boots crunching on the ever-shifting path. Then, in a calm voice, the centaur spoke.
"There is one who could help you without riddles or tricks."
Rovan turned to him sharply. "Who?"
"The Maiden of Benevolence, whose temple you just left" the centaur replied, without showing a shred of emotion on his face. "She was once the patron goddess of your people, long before the first emperor claimed the throne. She cared for your kind, guiding them, protecting them. But the people turned their backs on her."
Rovan frowned. "Why would they do that?"
"They crowned an emperor," the centaur explained. "They began to worship the emperor and his bloodline, believing it would save them from ever being enslaved again. They stopped calling on the Maiden, stopped leaving offerings at her altars. She felt betrayed."
Rovan sighed, shaking his head. "So she abandoned us?"
"Not entirely," the centaur said. "She still offers refuge to those in great need. She gives counsel to the desperate, though they rarely know it is her. She even walks among your people sometimes, but none recognize her. They forgot her, so she hides."
Rovan's steps slowed as he mulled over the centaur's words. "If she's so benevolent, why didn't she help me outright? Why would she ask for a covenant?"
The centaur didn't answer.
"Why does everything have to come with a price?" Rovan asked, louder this time.
Again, the centaur remained silent, his face unreadable.
They walked on, the path changing beneath their feet once more. This time, the ground felt alive, pulsing and twisting with every step. The air grew thicker, tinged with a metallic scent that stung Rovan's nostrils. He gritted his teeth and trudged forward, determined to find some semblance of an answer.
"Tell me, centaur," Rovan said after a long stretch of silence. "If the Maiden only wants me, what will these other gods demand? Why can't she help without covenants?"
The centaur did not respond, his silence louder than any words.
Rovan clenched his fists but said no more. It seemed everyone, including the centaur had an agenda and he was only here to get solutions. He decided to check out three more gods for answers and if none was right, he would return to the maiden of benevolence and plead for mercy.
When they finally arrived, the air changed again, now thick with an almost tangible tension. Before them stood a massive throne, jagged and uneven, as if it had been carved from chaos itself. Around it, the world seemed to shift and distort—colors bleeding into one another, shapes bending unnaturally.
The figure on the throne was shrouded in shadow, but its presence was undeniable. Power radiated from it, pulsing with a wild, unpredictable energy. Rovan felt everything inside him screaming to leave, but he didn't.
"This," the centaur said, his voice low and grave, "is the God of Chaos."
Rovan's breath caught in his throat as the shadowed figure stirred, its eyes glowing faintly in the distorted light. He could see only the eyes hidden in the shadows and they seemed hungry.
"Welcome," the god said, its voice a low rumble that seemed to come from every direction at once. "I've been waiting for you."