Elaris's fists remained clenched at his sides, his breathing uneven in the torch-lit corridor. But his eyes had changed—the fear and anger giving way to something else. Something hungry.
"Tell me everything." His voice was low, uncertain but firm. "I want to know what really happened. Not what they tell us. Not the legends. The truth."
Lysara studied him carefully, reading the conflict in every line of his young face. "And if you don't like what you hear?"
"Then I'll decide for myself."
She took a slow breath, weighing centuries of forbidden knowledge against the risk of sharing it. Then she began to speak, her voice carrying the weight of hidden histories.
"Kael was not always the Warlord," she said, each word measured carefully. "He was once a loyal warrior of the gods. Chosen by them. Raised by them. Trained by them." Her fingers traced patterns in the air as she spoke, as if drawing from memories written in the very fabric of reality. "They pushed him further than any mortal had ever been pushed. They broke his body and reforged it, teaching him that pain was a gift."
Elaris listened in silence, his young face illuminated by the flickering torchlight.
"Then the gods turned on him." Lysara's voice hardened. "He was loyal—until he wasn't. Until he asked too many questions. Until he started to realize that the gods weren't testing him at all. They were using him." She paused, shadows dancing across her features. "And when he tried to leave, they punished him."
"How?" Elaris's voice was barely more than a whisper.
Lysara's eyes met his, dark with ancient knowledge. "They cursed him. Made him what he is now—immortal, but suffering. Powerful, but hunted." Her fingers curled into fists. "And when he fought back against their cruelty, they labeled him a monster."
"Then why?" Elaris swallowed hard. "Why does he destroy everything in his path?"
"Because everything in his path has tried to kill him first." The words fell like stones into still water. "Every kingdom that rises against him, every hero that challenges him—they're all just tools of the gods, sent to destroy what they can no longer control."
Silence filled the space between them, heavy with the weight of shattered certainties. Elaris's fingers twitched at his sides as his mind raced to process what he'd heard. This was not the story he'd been taught. The Kael he knew was supposed to be a power-hungry warlord, a monster who dared to challenge divine authority. But this... this was different. This was the story of a man betrayed, a weapon that had turned against its wielders.
"And Zephyr?" he finally asked, his voice quieter now.
Lysara exhaled slowly. "Zephyr was meant to be the gods' perfect answer to Kael. Their flawless weapon against their greatest mistake." A bitter smile touched her lips. "But in the end? Kael proved that no champion of the gods can stop him. Not anymore."
Elaris looked away, his jaw tight with internal struggle. Everything he had believed, every truth he had built his young life upon, now felt uncertain. The torchlight cast his shadow long against the stone walls, wavering and distorted, like his faith.
"And now you know," Lysara said softly, watching him with careful attention. "So tell me, Elaris—what are you going to do?"
His breath came out shaky, his hands trembling at his sides. He didn't answer. Couldn't answer. Because for the first time in his life, standing in that torch-lit corridor with forbidden truth burning in his mind, he wasn't sure what side he was on.
The silence stretched between them, filled with the weight of choice. Above them, somewhere in their eternal realm, the gods continued their plotting, unaware that their greatest threat might not be Kael's power at all—but the simple, devastating truth of what they had done to earn it.