"He who walks the path of eternity must first forsake all that makes him human."
A temple stood at the edge of the world.
Carved from obsidian and time itself, it loomed over the abyss, untouched by wind, rain, or the passage of centuries. The air was thick with the scent of burning incense, yet beneath it lingered something fouler—blood, old and new, seeping into the very stones.
At the temple's center, beneath an altar older than the gods, a boy knelt.
His hands, small and unsteady, gripped a ceremonial dagger. The blade trembled, its silvered edge catching the flickering candlelight. His breath was shallow, uneven. Not from fear—but from the weight of what was to come.
A voice, deep as the void between stars, echoed through the chamber.
"Speak the oath, child."
The boy hesitated. His gaze flickered to the body before him—a man, his robes once white, now darkened with crimson. His face was peaceful, almost as if he had merely fallen asleep.
But the boy knew better.
This was the price.
This was the sacrifice.
"Speak the oath, Aedric."
The boy closed his eyes. His fingers tightened around the hilt.
He had no choice.
He had never had a choice.
"I renounce my name," he whispered. "I renounce my past. I renounce the gods who have turned their backs on me."
The air grew heavy, the very walls of the temple seeming to pulse with unseen energy.
"And what do you seek?"
Aedric lifted his gaze. Though his body was frail, his eyes—once soft, once filled with the warmth of innocence—were now hard as tempered steel.
"I seek eternity."
The words burned as they left his lips, searing his very soul.
"I seek the power to defy fate itself. To burn the heavens and shatter the cycle."
A shadow stirred. A presence older than time itself coiled around him, whispering, laughing, weeping.
"Then pay the price."
The dagger fell.
Blood splattered across the altar.
The temple trembled.
And in that moment, Aedric ceased to be a boy.
He was something else now.
Something not quite human.
Something not yet god.
He rose to his feet, his small hands drenched in blood. His voice was quiet, but in it, the first embers of a storm stirred.
"I am the last shadow of a dying world. The first ember of a new one."
He turned, stepping into the darkness beyond the altar.
The temple doors swung open, revealing a world that had long since abandoned him.
A world that had made a mistake.
For now, he would no longer beg for mercy.
Now, he would carve his own legend.
And the heavens would learn to fear his name.