Three days after the fight, Aerax was still alive — though no one could believe it. The cracked bones, bruises, and blood clots made it impossible for him to stand straight. But he crawled. He dragged himself, washed his face with the freezing sewer water, ate crumbs of fallen bread, and licked water from the cracks in the walls. A starving creature refusing to die, carrying within him resentment and a fierce will to live.
On the fourth night, when the entire cell was asleep, he heard a whisper.
"You cannot die."
The voice was hoarse, like the wind slipping through a crack in the stone. Aerax turned his head and for the first time saw the dark shackles room — where slaves who had gone mad or were no longer useful were imprisoned forever. There, a figure sat motionless among the chains, eyes dull but wide open.
It was an old woman, wrinkled skin, hunched back, but the scent from her was not the usual smell of feces and rot like the others. It was a faint fragrance of some perfume, as if she was not a slave at all.
Aerax said nothing. But his eyes searched. The old woman smiled softly.
"You saw it, didn't you?"
"Saw what?" he rasped.
"The light. Up above. In that moment you looked up."
Aerax remained silent.
"That was no illusion, young man. It was an invitation."
"I am not the chosen one," Aerax muttered. "I am discarded."
"Because you believe that, the God chose you."
The old woman tilted her head. "You were not born to die in chains. You are the one who will find the Moving Temple — an ancient shrine that does not stay in one place but constantly changes location. It only appears to those who are chosen."
Aerax breathed heavily. He did not understand. But his heart raced, as if something strange had been awakened.
"That Temple holds the power to transform a mortal into a god."
"Are you mocking me?"
"No." The old woman placed her hand on her chest. "You have been the chosen one to become a god since birth."
Aerax stepped back. Cold sweat ran down his skin. He wanted to leave — but could not. The old woman's eyes held him captive.
"Want to live? Want revenge? Want freedom, desire, to stand equal with the gods?"
Aerax swallowed hard.
"Then listen carefully. At the next Blood Moon, the Temple will appear once again at the edge of the southern land. Escape this place. At all costs."
"I can't—"
"You will. Because your fate is not decided by chains. But by the fire within you."
And then the old woman laughed. A mad laugh, yet echoing like the wind from ancient mountains.
As Aerax turned to leave, he noticed on the stone wall behind her a strange symbol painted in blood, resembling a magic seal.
He did not sleep that night. And at dawn, the sunlight shone on his face for the first time — reflecting another pair of eyes.