Ash rained from the crimson sky.
The world burned—not in roaring flame, but in silence. Great pillars of smoke rose where forests had once stood, where mountains had once been green and proud. Now they were hollowed giants, their roots charred, their crowns stripped away. The air stung of iron and old prayers, the kind that no longer reached anything listening.
Ivyra stumbled across the blackened plain, each step leaving shallow imprints in the cracked earth. Her boots—once supple leather—were stiff from dried blood. The taste of soot coated her tongue, turning every breath into a rasp. Behind her, far in the distance, the horizon glowed faintly orange where the divine firestorms still raged.
It hadn't always been like this.
But she couldn't remember when it hadn't.
Not clearly.
Her body swayed as exhaustion clawed at her bones. She pressed a hand against her ribs where blood seeped through a half-burned tunic, sticky and warm. The wound wasn't deep enough to kill quickly, but it was enough to remind her that she would not survive long without shelter—or a miracle.
Neither seemed likely.
She stopped, kneeling on the fractured soil. For a moment, she simply let herself breathe, though even the act sent knives of pain through her chest.
The sky rumbled above her—low, mocking.
"Are you watching?" she whispered hoarsely, lifting her gaze toward the heavens, though no stars shone there anymore. Only red clouds, shifting as if something vast and cruel moved behind them. "Do you even care?"
Silence.
Of course there was silence.
No gods had answered prayers for centuries—not since they'd turned on the very world they'd shaped. They had built their kingdoms high, fed on worship, and when the people could give no more, they abandoned them. Or worse—they hunted them, each divine quarrel leaving cities broken and seas choked with bones.
Her vision blurred.
The wind picked up, carrying flakes of ash that stuck to her lashes and skin. Somewhere beyond the dark haze, she thought she heard screams—thin, distant echoes of a village that had tried to fight, that had failed like all the rest.
Her fists tightened.
Why should they decide who lives? Why should they decide who burns?
Her heart pounded harder, anger forcing her body to move when it shouldn't have been able to. She pressed one hand into the dirt for balance. Her nails dug grooves in the brittle ground.
"I swear…" Her voice cracked, but she forced the words through clenched teeth. "If I live again—if I rise—I will destroy you all. One by one, I'll tear the heavens down."
The promise tasted like blood and smoke.
And something—something older than the ruined sky—heard it.
---
Far above the mortal world, in the void between realms, chains shifted.
A presence that had slept for ages stirred, its awareness bleeding through cracks in the veil. It was not a god, though once it had stood among them. Its essence was weightless yet vast, darker than shadow, colder than death.
It had been waiting for a voice like hers.
A child of vengeance… at last.
Its laugh was soft but dangerous, the kind that could crumble mountains if given form.
The gods have forgotten their place. You will remind them.
Ivyra gasped as a sudden heat seared her chest. She looked down and saw a faint mark—jagged, glowing beneath her torn tunic. The light spread like veins of molten gold, threading across her skin and into her blood.
Her pain dulled. Her weakness receded.
And deep inside, something unfurled.
Her lungs filled fully for the first time in days. Her heart beat stronger, heavier, like a drum summoning a storm. The ground beneath her vibrated, responding to the shift.
Stand, child, the ancient voice whispered. Rise, and carry my mark. The first step has been taken. The path of the God Slayer begins now.
She staggered to her feet, trembling. The ash around her swirled unnaturally, drawn toward her like dust to a flame. Sparks danced in her vision. Her wound—her mortal wound—sealed with a slow burn.
Ivyra's eyes widened.
She felt alive. Fiercely, terrifyingly alive.
---
But with that life came something else.
Not just strength—memory.
Visions slammed into her mind without warning:
A battlefield of white fire. Towers of light crumbling. Shadows of beings too vast to be called human—too cruel to be called divine. Screams that belonged to no one she knew, yet each one felt like it had torn her throat raw ages ago.
And a voice—her own, yet not hers:
"I will not kneel."
The memory vanished as suddenly as it came, leaving her panting. She clutched her head, staggering back.
What was that?
She didn't have time to question it.
The ground beneath her feet shifted again—this time not from power, but from something moving below the cracked crust. A tremor rippled outward, and distant shapes began to emerge through the haze.
Figures.
Not human.
Their silhouettes glowed faintly, like molten statues shaped from divine flame. Watchers.
The gods' hunters.
Her heartbeat quickened. These were the things that swept through the remnants of villages, burning survivors before they could flee. They were relentless, mindless extensions of divine will, made to erase anything the gods deemed "unworthy."
And now they had found her.
Run.
The command wasn't hers—it was instinct, old and sharp.
She turned, sprinting as best she could across the uneven terrain. Her newly healed body moved faster than it should have been capable of, but the Watchers were faster still, gliding over the ground as though gravity meant nothing to them.
A bolt of white fire cracked past her shoulder, scorching the earth. The air smelled of ozone and death.
She veered sharply toward a jagged ravine, hoping to lose them in the fissures below. Her boots slid on the ash-slick slope as she descended. Stones tumbled around her, echoing in the chasm.
Another blast. Too close.
She hit the ground hard, rolling. Pain shot through her side but she forced herself up, panting, heart pounding. The ravine stretched like a labyrinth of stone and shadow.
A chance.
She ran.
---
Above her, the Watchers hovered at the edge, their featureless faces turned downward. They didn't leap immediately, as if… waiting. Listening.
One tilted its head. Its glow flickered.
"She carries it," a voice murmured—not aloud, but within some unseen web of thought. "The mark has awakened."
"Then she must be erased before it spreads," another replied.
"But… it's too soon."
"No." The first voice hardened. "The gods commanded silence. If she rises, if she remembers—"
They moved.
Ivyra darted into a narrow crevice, pressing her back to the wall. Her hands shook—not from fear alone, but from the unfamiliar energy thrumming through her veins.
She could feel them above her, feel their intent like heat pressing on her skin.
And something inside her whispered:
Fight.
She clenched her fists. "How? I don't—"
The ground trembled beneath her feet, answering. A faint circle of light spread outward where she stood, etching runes into the stone. She didn't know the language, yet she understood it. It wasn't words—it was will.
Her will.
The air thickened.
When the first Watcher dropped into the ravine, Ivyra's body moved before thought. She thrust her hand forward, and a pulse of golden fire burst from her palm, slamming into the creature.
It screamed—a sound like metal tearing—and dissolved into shards of light.
Ivyra stared at her hand, stunned. "What—?"
There was no time.
The others descended.
---
They came like falling stars—silent but merciless, each one trailing a tail of white fire that scorched the walls of the ravine. The ground quaked beneath their impact, rocks splintering and raining around Ivyra.
Her pulse thundered. Her body was still too new to this power—too raw—but there was no choice.
Another Watcher lunged, its arm elongating into a blade of searing light. Instinct took over. Ivyra ducked low, the blade grazing her hair, then thrust her hand upward. Fire—not the red flame of mortals, but gold edged with white—erupted from her palm and struck its chest.
It shattered.
Ash swirled.
But two more replaced it instantly.
"Too many," Ivyra hissed, backing against the ravine wall. Her breath burned in her lungs. She could feel the new strength in her veins, but it was wild, unshaped, threatening to consume her as much as it protected her.
A Watcher raised its hand. A sphere of divine energy crackled in its grasp. If it struck, there'd be nothing left of her but a stain in the dirt.
Move.
Not her own thought—again, that other voice. The one that had marked her.
But this time, it didn't just speak. It guided. Her body lunged left a heartbeat before the blast hit, scorching the wall where she'd been. She didn't question it. She couldn't.
Her boot caught on loose stone. She stumbled, nearly falling—and that's when she saw it.
At the far end of the ravine: an opening. A narrow gap in the rock, almost hidden by shadows. If she could reach it, maybe she could—
The Watchers closed in, faster now.
She sprinted, ignoring the fire in her muscles, ignoring the jagged rocks that tore at her legs. Bolts of energy screamed past her. One grazed her shoulder, ripping fabric and burning skin. She bit down a cry and kept running.
The gap neared. Just a few more strides—
A blast hit the ground in front of her. The force threw her backward, her body slamming into stone. Pain exploded along her spine. The world blurred, her vision dimming around the edges.
One Watcher hovered above her now, its blade-arm raised for the killing strike.
Ivyra's fingers clawed at the ground. She couldn't outpace them. She couldn't survive them all.
But she could do one thing.
She pressed her palm flat to the earth.
Burn.
Light exploded outward in a sudden, violent ring. The ravine walls glowed, runes etching themselves into the stone. The Watcher hesitated, its head snapping toward the markings as if recognizing something ancient, something forbidden.
Then the ground itself cracked. Flames surged upward, not chaotic but coiled, deliberate—like a living serpent of gold. It struck the Watcher, piercing straight through its chest.
The creature dissolved into fragments of white light.
The others stopped. They didn't attack. They hovered at a distance now, their glow dimmer.
"She has it," one whispered within their strange collective. "The seal's first flame."
"This cannot be allowed."
But they didn't advance.
They retreated.
Ivyra dropped to her knees, shaking, her hands still burning faintly. Her chest heaved as the glow beneath her skin began to dim. The runes faded. The fire coiled back into the earth as though it had never been.
Silence swallowed the ravine once more.
For a long moment, she just knelt there, staring at her hands.
"What am I becoming?" she whispered.
The voice inside her answered—not cruel, not kind, but absolute.
What you were always meant to be.
---
Ivyra's fingers trembled against the ground. The sudden silence felt heavier than the fight itself, pressing on her ears until even her own heartbeat seemed distant. Her body swayed. The heat that had empowered her moments ago now drained away like water through cracked stone.
Keep moving, she told herself, though her limbs felt carved from lead. The Watchers had retreated, but they would return—stronger, faster, more of them. The gods never left their work unfinished.
She staggered to her feet. The narrow gap in the ravine wall still waited ahead, shrouded in shadow. Every step toward it was a fight, her breath ragged, her muscles shaking with each movement. The glow beneath her skin had faded, leaving only pain in its wake.
When she reached the crevice, she pressed herself into the stone, squeezing through until the passage widened into a hollow chamber. It was dim, the air cooler, untouched by the firestorms above. The walls shimmered faintly as though veins of crystal ran beneath their surface. For the first time in hours, she couldn't hear the Watchers' pursuit.
Safe. For now.
Her knees buckled. She slid down against the wall and let herself collapse. Her hands were raw. Her shoulder throbbed where the blast had grazed her. But more than that—it was the other thing inside her, the one she couldn't name. Its presence was still there, silent now, yet vast. Watching. Waiting.
She closed her eyes.
For a brief moment, she thought she felt warmth—not from fire or blood, but something softer, almost human. Like a memory. A hand brushing soot from her cheek. A voice humming a lullaby she couldn't quite recall.
Then even that faded.
Darkness claimed her.
---