Dazed, blood trickling from my mouth, I struggled to stay conscious. The fire inside me flickered dangerously as the weight of his power pressed down. Silas loomed over me, his shadow swallowing the room. "Not yet," he said softly, eyes gleaming with dark amusement. "But soon. You'll learn."
The searing pain in my chest pulsed with every heartbeat, each one slower than the last. My limbs felt like they were made of lead, the fiery power that once roared inside me now flickering and fading like a dying ember. Darkness crept at the edges of my vision, threatening to swallow me whole.
I staggered, desperate to hold on, but my knees buckled beneath me. The cold stone floor rushed up to meet me as I collapsed, breath shallow, senses slipping away.
Then, in the abyss between consciousness and oblivion, the world shifted.
A soft light surrounded me, brighter than the battlefield's grim shadows. The air smelled of ancient forests and endless skies. Before me stood four towering figures — the patron deities of the paths — Aone, Urysus, Azzolt, and Vodia. Their eyes held infinite wisdom and calm.
"You struggle," Aone's voice rumbled like distant thunder. "Your power frightens you, yet it is part of you."
Urysus stepped forward, a gentle smile touching his lips. "The path you chose is neither simple nor safe."
Azzolt's sly grin flickered. "Control is your greatest weapon, and your greatest foe."
Vodia's serene gaze softened the space around me. "Remember, even in darkness, light can guide you."
Their voices blended, echoing in my mind as the vision began to fade. I felt myself being pulled back — back into the cold, harsh reality.
My eyes fluttered open to the battle-worn room, my body weak but my resolve slowly rekindling. A swirl of thoughts flooded me — awe, confusion, fear. Had I truly seen the gods? Were they real, or just the last whispers of a fading consciousness? Their words echoed in my mind, stirring something deep inside — a fierce determination not to lose control, to master this wild power that surged through me.
I clenched my fists, feeling the faint warmth of the runes beneath my skin, now a reminder of both my curse and my gift. The path ahead was daunting, but surrender was not an option.
I had to become the Warden I was meant to be — for Auralia, for the child, for myself.
The world around me spun wildly, blurred edges merging with shadow and light. Somehow—somehow—I found the strength to drag myself up, every movement agony, every breath shallow and ragged.
But I wasn't alone. Auralia's faint, pained breaths beside me kept me tethered to reality. The child—small, fragile—rested against her side, wrapped in threadbare cloth.
Determination burned through my haze. I couldn't fail them.
Step by agonizing step, I pulled us through the maze of ruined corridors and winding streets. The distant glow of the temple's spires pierced the dusk like a beacon, a promise of sanctuary.
Pain screamed through my body, my vision flickering between clarity and darkness. Each time my knees threatened to give out, I forced myself onward. The runes on my arm throbbed, reacting to the surge of desperate will inside me.
At last, the temple gates loomed before us—a sanctuary carved of ancient stone and sacred magic. The guards, sensing my desperation and the child's frailty, allowed me inside without question.
The healers took Auralia and the child immediately, their gentle hands steadying my beloved and the little one. I collapsed onto the cold floor, my body spent.
Days slipped into nights, and nights into days.
I drifted in and out of consciousness, the world folding around me like a fragile dream. Faces blurred; voices whispered prayers and chants I barely heard. The temple's gentle magic wove around my wounds, stitching flesh and spirit together.
Yet even as my body healed, a storm raged inside me—wild, untamed power clawing at the edges of my mind.
I fought to hold onto myself, to remember who I was beneath the rage and the pain. But each moment of clarity was fleeting, swallowed by the haze of exhaustion.
In those long hours between waking and sleep, I grasped at memories of Auralia's smile, the child's soft breaths, and the gods' cryptic words.
And I vowed: when I could stand again, I would protect them at any cost.