The wind that night did not sing. It screamed.
Thunder coiled through the clouds above the village, rolling in unnatural pulses. The stars blinked out one by one until the heavens were cloaked in ink, a darkness deeper than storm. Something was coming—and the land knew it before the people did.
Ivyra stood at the edge of the village, watching the sky crackle. Lyxra had grown tense beside her, ears flattened, golden eyes narrowed.
"It's not weather," he said.
"I know," Ivyra murmured.
Behind them, her mother coughed weakly from inside the hut. Serren stood in the doorway, clutching her satchel, knuckles pale.
Naia hadn't come that day.
---
It began with silence.
The birds stopped singing. The dogs refused to bark. The air grew thick with the taste of iron. Then—the earth trembled.
Screams broke through the quiet as a violet rift tore open above the temple ruins at the forest's edge. Villagers ran, pointing toward the sky where something had slipped through.
A shadow with too many limbs. A shape that pulsed like a heart. A memory of a god long sealed.
"The seal is weakening," Serren gasped.
Lyxra growled, teeth bared. "They found her."
Ivyra's mark flared hot, nearly burning through her cloak.
"Mother!" she turned.
Elynn stood, barely, swaying. Her eyes locked onto her daughter's.
"Go," she whispered. "You must leave. Now."
"No—"
"If you stay… they'll kill you. Or worship you. And both will ruin you."
A loud bang shook the hut. Outside, flames crackled. The villagers had begun to gather—not with weapons yet, but with torches, prayers, and desperate, trembling fear.
"They think it's your fault," Serren said bitterly. "They always did."
---
Naia burst through the side alley, her dress torn, cheeks streaked with tears.
"You have to run! Papa's saying the storm is your curse! He—he told the others to drag you to the altar."
Ivyra blinked. "What altar?"
Naia's face crumpled. "The old one. The stone pit in the woods. They think sacrificing you will calm the gods."
Lyxra snarled. "Pathetic."
Serren stepped forward. "We'll guide you out. Through the ash path—by the hollow trees."
Elynn pressed a small pouch into Ivyra's palm. "This will help you find the ruins. The weapon is real. It's waiting for you."
Ivyra hesitated, looking at Naia. The child clutched her hand.
"Don't die. Please. Don't forget me."
"I won't," Ivyra whispered.
Then, everything burned.
A torch struck the side of the hut, flames catching like dry paper. Ivyra shoved Naia toward Serren.
"GO!"
The world blurred. Lyxra shifted to his monstrous form, silver and shadow exploding outward as he roared a warning into the sky.
Ivyra's feet pounded against the cracked earth. Her seal pulsed like a drumbeat.
The villagers shouted behind her—half fearful, half fanatical.
The stars above blinked again. Then the sky split wide.
A voice echoed from the dark:
> "She awakens."
---
In the forest, they ran beneath bleeding leaves and whispering branches. Lyxra cleared the path, scattering beasts and shadows alike. Serren led with Naia in her arms, weaving through the roots with wild speed.
Behind them, the village was aflame. The screaming didn't stop.
"Where are we going?" Serren called.
"To the temple," Ivyra said. "To the weapon. To the truth."
And as if in answer, the mark on her chest erupted with light.
A beam of silver tore through the sky, striking the ancient ruins just ahead. Stones glowed with runes long buried. The trees bent away, afraid.
Ivyra stepped onto the temple threshold.
The air stopped.
A voice rose—not heard, but felt, vibrating through the marrow of her bones.
> "Child of ruin… take your name."
The ground split beneath her feet.
Rising from the pit was a blade—not forged of steel, but of darkness solidified, edged in ghostlight. Chains of bone snapped loose from its hilt as if released from eons of slumber.
> "You were never cursed. You were chosen."
She reached for it.
The instant her fingers closed around the hilt, the seal shattered.
Power poured through her.
The trees screamed. The stars pulsed red. Even Lyxra stumbled back as Ivyra rose, cloaked in the shimmer of an ancient wrath.
Her eyes blazed with something not of this world.
And in the distance, from the last fires of the dying village, the chief's son stared in horror.
> "The God Slayer…" he whispered. "She's real."
---
Author's Thought
This is where Ivyra's path begins to shift from exile to ascension. The gods remember her. The world fears her. And the blade now rests in her hand. What she does next will not just change her — it will change everything. The village was never her home. But the stars? They're starting to whisper her name again.