Chapter 2:
The streets of Solis were alive with muted murmurs, a place where every passerby seemed to be moving through the motions of life without truly living. The sun, now sinking lower on the horizon, cast long shadows over the cracked stones of the city, and the air was thick with the smell of burning refuse. The city was a place of contradictions—wealthy merchants paraded their wares beside beggars huddled in the corners, their faces hollow from hunger.
Ashen followed Lira through the alleyways, his steps awkward, his body still unaccustomed to the limitations of mortality. Each breath felt heavy, his chest constricting with the sensation of a power that once surged through him now locked away, unreachable. It was as though his very essence had been severed from him, like an arm lost in battle.
Lira walked ahead of him, her movements confident, as though she belonged here. She had yet to speak again, but Ashen knew there was more to her silence than a simple desire for quiet. She was studying him, just as he was studying her. The way she moved—sure, unflinching—spoke of someone who had learned the hard way how to survive in a world that had turned its back on her.
They emerged from the narrow streets into a larger, more crowded market district. The air buzzed with voices, some arguing over the prices of goods, others whispering of rumors and rebellions. The sight of the bustling crowd only served to remind Ashen of how out of place he felt, a god trapped in a mortal body, walking among those who had no knowledge of the power he once wielded.
Lira turned to him then, her dark eyes meeting his. "You look like you've never been here before," she said, her tone more knowing than curious.
Ashen hesitated, feeling the weight of her words. "I've never been anywhere," he replied quietly. "I don't remember anything... except the fall."
She gave him a sharp look, as if weighing his words carefully. "The fall," she repeated. "That's what they call it, isn't it? The fall of the gods."
"Is that what they tell you?" Ashen asked, the bitterness in his voice surprising even himself. He was beginning to realize that he didn't just lack memories—he lacked knowledge of this world, of the history that had unfolded in his absence. The gods' fall wasn't just a myth here; it was the defining moment of this age.
Lira nodded, though her expression darkened as she spoke. "The gods... they're gone now. All of them. Some say they left because they grew tired of us, others say they were driven away. But the truth? No one knows for sure. All I know is that when they fell, everything changed."
Ashen felt the pull of her words, but they brought with them only more questions. "What happened after they fell?"
"War," Lira said simply, her eyes narrowing as she looked out over the market. "The world tore itself apart. The kingdoms fought for power, but it wasn't just the humans. Creatures from beyond the mortal realm came, too—monsters that once served the gods. And the clergy of Solis..." She trailed off, her voice thick with disdain. "They took advantage of the chaos, built their own power on the backs of those who had nothing left."
The weight of her words hit Ashen harder than he expected. He had fallen. The gods had fallen. But it seemed the destruction had not only been physical. The fall had shattered the very fabric of the world itself.
"And you—" Ashen began, but stopped himself, unsure of how to frame the question. She was no simple street dweller. There was more to her, something hidden behind her defiant exterior.
Lira's lips curved into a wry smile. "I was once a priestess of Solis. Not like them," she added quickly, nodding toward the tall, white-clad figures walking past them. "I saw what they did, the way they used the gods' names to keep the people in line, to control them. I couldn't stand it. So I left. I don't worship anyone anymore."
Ashen was silent for a moment, trying to piece together the fragments of the world she had described. A world without gods, a world where power was abused, and where the fall of divine beings had led to endless strife. He felt the weight of it all—the weight of his own fall.
"What is Solis now?" he asked. "What are they doing here, now that the gods are gone?"
Lira's eyes darkened as she looked up at the towering temples in the distance. "The clergy controls everything. The city, the people, the resources. They claim to be the voice of the gods, but they're no more than corrupt rulers, playing a game they can never win."
Ashen felt a flicker of anger surge within him, an emotion that felt both foreign and familiar at the same time. "So they use the people?"
"Exactly," Lira said, her voice tight with bitterness. "And those who dare to resist are either crushed or forgotten."
As they walked through the market, Ashen couldn't help but observe the tension in the air. People moved quickly, their heads down, avoiding eye contact. The few soldiers patrolling the streets were dressed in the same white robes that seemed to represent Solis' religious authority, but their eyes were cold, calculating. They were not there to protect; they were there to enforce.
Lira's pace slowed, and she glanced over at Ashen. "There's something you should know. There are others like me—those who've rejected the church. We're not strong enough to overthrow them yet, but there are rumors that something is stirring. A movement, a rebellion. People are beginning to fight back."
Ashen's heart quickened. "And you're part of this rebellion?"
Lira didn't answer immediately. She turned and led him toward a hidden door at the back of an old, nondescript building. It was tucked away in a shadowed corner of the market, unnoticed by most, as if it were just another forgotten part of the city.
"Yes," she finally said, her voice steady. "But I'm not the one you should be concerned about. It's him."
She opened the door, revealing a dimly lit room filled with maps and old texts. On the far wall, a faded portrait hung—a towering figure, dark robes swirling with power, eyes glowing with the malice of a man who had become more than mortal.
"Malthor," Ashen muttered, the name like a dagger to his chest.
Lira nodded. "He's the one who brought about the end of the gods. He's the one who will stop at nothing to ensure the people of this world remain under his control. And he's the one hunting you now."
Ashen's eyes widened as the weight of her words settled in. "Hunting me?"
"The fragments of your divinity," Lira said quietly, "are a prize he won't let slip through his fingers. And if he finds out you're still alive, you'll be his weapon, or his enemy. Either way, you're in his sights."
A storm of thoughts and emotions swirled inside Ashen. He was no longer a god, not in the way he had been. Yet, the world still sought what remained of his power. His heart thundered in his chest.
Lira's eyes met his, serious and resolute. "You're not the man you once were, Ashen. But you could be the one to stop him. If you choose to fight."
Ashen didn't know what choice he would make. But as he stared at Malthor's portrait, something deep within him stirred—a hunger, a need to understand, to reclaim.
And for the first time since his fall, Ashen felt the spark of something long buried within him.
Hope.