In the weeks following their alliance, Lysara and Elaris began a dangerous dance of deception. Their target was clear: Orin, the Champion of the Gods, whose unshakeable faith made him the greatest threat within their ranks. His plan to launch a preemptive strike against Kael's forces before Icarion's arrival was aggressive, reckless—and perfect for sabotage.
They worked in shadows and whispers. Elaris, using his position as Dain's squire, gained access to the storage areas where he methodically sabotaged supply lines. Barrels of fresh water found themselves tainted with subtle hexes—not enough to kill, but enough to weaken. Good rations were swapped for spoiled ones, each exchange calculated to look like simple misfortune.
Meanwhile, Lysara focused on a more delicate task. The divine relics that Orin had gathered—blessed weapons and artifacts meant to strike down Kael—required careful manipulation. Late at night, she would weave counter-spells of ancient origin, slowly draining their power while leaving their outward appearance unchanged. What Orin thought would be weapons of divine judgment would prove to be little more than ordinary steel when the moment came.
But their most insidious work was in the minds of the soldiers themselves. Elaris moved among the troops, dropping carefully crafted rumors like poisoned seeds. "Have you heard how many Zephyr killed before Kael stopped him? None. Not a single one." Lysara played her part by forging messages from fictional scouts, each report suggesting Kael's forces were far stronger than anticipated.
Their nightly meetings took on a new purpose as well. In the secret corners of the fortress, Lysara began training Elaris in the arts of magic. He proved to be an exceptionally quick study, particularly in the subtle arts of illusion and stealth magic. She taught him to unravel divine spells, to enhance his combat abilities with arcane power, to move unseen through both physical and magical barriers. The squire was becoming something far more dangerous—a hidden blade within the heroes' ranks.
The final phase of their sabotage came as Orin prepared to march. Lysara's weather magic turned clear skies stormy, while Elaris's work on the roads and bridges ensured every step toward Kael's territory was treacherous. By the time Orin's forces engaged their target, they were already defeated—sick, demoralized, and wielding weapons whose blessed power had been secretly stripped away.
The battle was a massacre. Kael's forces crushed them with such totality that even the gods' silence seemed to carry shock. Orin barely escaped with his life, his armor stained with the blood of his fallen soldiers, his pride shattered like the divine relics that had failed him.
When he returned to the fortress, his voice carried something new—rage tinged with paranoia. He called an emergency gathering, his words echoing through the stone halls: "Someone sabotaged us."
The assembled soldiers shifted uneasily as Orin paced before them, divine energy crackling around his wounded form like barely contained lightning.
"You." He stopped suddenly, pointing at a young supply officer. "Explain to me how our entire water supply became tainted."
The officer swallowed hard. "My lord, we checked every barrel before—"
"LIES!" Orin's fist slammed into a nearby pillar, leaving cracks in the ancient stone. "Our men were weak before we even reached the battlefield. Someone did this to us."
"Perhaps," an older sergeant ventured, "the heat spoiled—"
"The heat?" Orin's laugh was sharp as broken glass. "And I suppose the heat also dulled our blessed weapons? Stripped them of divine power?" He drew his sword—once a gleaming instrument of divine will, now nothing more than ordinary steel. "Tell me, sergeant, how does heat accomplish that?"
The sergeant went pale. "I... I don't..."
"And you." Orin rounded on a scout captain. "Your reports claimed Kael's forces numbered in the thousands. We found barely a hundred. Yet they slaughtered us like sheep." He leaned in close, his eyes burning with divine fire. "How did you get it so wrong?"
"The reports I received..." the captain started, but his voice failed as Orin's gaze bore into him.
"The reports you received." Orin's voice dripped contempt. "From whom? Show me these scouts. Bring them before me now."
Silence fell as the captain realized he couldn't produce a single witness to verify the reports.
A young soldier at the back of the crowd whispered too loudly to his companion: "Maybe Kael's just stronger than they told us—"
He never finished the sentence. Orin moved faster than seemed possible, divine power carrying him across the room. His hand closed around the soldier's throat, lifting him off the ground.
"Stronger? Or maybe..." Orin's eyes narrowed, scanning the gathered faces. "Maybe there are those among us who want him to be stronger. Those who would betray their own brothers to serve a godless monster."
He released the soldier, who crumpled to the ground gasping. When Orin spoke again, his voice was deathly quiet. "I will find who did this. And when I do, they will learn why the gods chose me as their champion."
The accusation hung in the air like a storm about to break. In their private chamber, Lysara and Elaris exchanged subtle glances as Orin began his hunt for traitors. They had succeeded beyond their expectations—not only had they prevented a premature attack on Kael, but they had planted seeds of doubt and suspicion that would tear at the heroes' unity from within.
Yet even as they celebrated their victory in whispers, both knew the real challenge was just beginning. Orin's paranoia would make their next moves more dangerous, but also more necessary. The war wasn't just being fought on battlefields anymore—it was being waged in shadows, in whispers, in subtle acts of betrayal that would slowly unravel everything the gods had built.
And somewhere in the divine realm, the gods watched their champions turn against each other, unaware that their greatest threat wasn't Kael's power or Icarion's hatred—but the simple truth that was spreading through their ranks like a virus, turning loyalty to doubt, faith to questions, and servants into saboteurs.