The obsidian talisman lay between us, a symbol of the ancient power that Priest-Lord Varian offered. The candlelight barely touched its dark surface, as if even light itself feared it.
"This is a relic of the Old Gods," Varian murmured. "A power that once shaped empires and reduced kingdoms to dust. With it, you can end this war before it truly begins."
The tent was silent. Even the most hardened warriors, men who had cut down thousands, seemed uneasy.
"And what price must be paid?" I asked.
Varian smiled. "Power always has a price, My Lord. The question is—who will pay it?"
I turned to my commanders. Hadrian's expression was grim. Elias, my spymaster, watched with calculating eyes. General Caius clenched his fists, eager for anything that would bring swift victory.
"If we use this, we risk the wrath of other nations. We risk losing control," Hadrian warned.
"We risk losing this war if we don't," Caius countered.
I had conquered Black Ridge with steel and strategy. But Edric was rallying forces. If I struck him down now, the war would be mine to command.
The path was clear.
I reached forward and gripped the talisman.
---
The Flames of the Old Gods
The ritual was held in secret, deep within the mountains of Solmaris. Only my most trusted men knew.
Varian stood before the ancient altar, carved with the symbols of forgotten deities. The air was heavy, thick with an unnatural stillness.
"By the will of the gods, by the blood of kings, I call forth the fire that scorches the earth!"
The sky darkened. The ground trembled. Flames erupted from the altar, twisting into the form of a great beast—a war spirit, bound to no mortal.
"Name your price," the spirit growled, its voice like crackling embers.
Varian turned to me.
"A sacrifice, My Lord. A life given, so that the gods may grant you their favor."
I clenched my fists.
Would I give a prisoner? A traitor? Or would I give nothing at all and defy the will of these gods?
---
The Emperor's Decision
"I offer nothing," I declared.
Gasps filled the chamber. Even Varian hesitated.
The fire spirit loomed over me, its molten eyes narrowing.
"You dare summon me and deny tribute?"
"I am no servant of gods or spirits," I said, my voice unshaken. "If you wish to see war, then let it be through my hands, not through sacrifice."
The spirit laughed—a deep, rumbling sound that shook the cavern walls.
"Then you amuse me, mortal. I shall grant you my flame, but beware… the fire of war is never tamed."
The flames surged forward. Heat seared my skin, yet I did not move. The spirit's power burned into my very soul.
And just like that, it was gone.
Varian fell to his knees. "You have done what no ruler before you dared. You have claimed the power of the gods… without bowing to them."
The war had changed. And so had I.
---
The March to Varyon
I rode at the head of my army, the banner of Solmaris flying high. My soldiers followed, their spirits high, their blades eager.
The news had spread—King Edric was gathering his forces at Red Hollow, the last great stronghold before the heart of Varyon. If I crushed him there, his kingdom would fall.
And this time, I would not rely on magic alone.
This war would be won by steel, by strategy… and by fire.
The flames of the gods burned within me.
And I would use them to forge a new empire.