"You were not brought here to bask in royal favor," King Aldren continued, "You were summoned because the world itself has begun to bleed."
"Three days ago," the King continued, beginning to pace before his throne with measured steps, "the border village of Millhaven was attacked and heavy damages were reported. Lives were lost, Homes destroyed, and the people now live in fear."
A collective intake of breath swept through the assembled heroes. Jace felt his stomach clench as the King's words painted increasingly dire pictures.
"Two days later, Riverside suffered the same fate. Yesterday, it was Thornwick."
King Aldren's voice grew harder with each name. "But these attacks are only a fraction of the problem at hand. Magical beasts have started appearing in residential districts. A shadow drake materialized in the marketplace of our capital's outer ring. Fire salamanders have been spotted in farms."
The King stopped his pacing and fixed his gaze on the assembled individuals. "Our greatest scholars have consulted every tome, every prophecy, every scrap of ancient knowledge. The conclusion is inescapable."
He paused, letting the weight of his next words settle like a physical presence in the room. "Zorak, the Demon Lord, thought slain centuries ago by the Hero of Light, has returned."
The name hit the throne room like a physical blow. Several of the heroes took involuntary steps backward. Jace had never heard the name before, but the reaction of everyone around him, from the stoic guards to the cowering courtiers, told him everything he needed to know about the magnitude of this threat.
"The gods themselves have taken notice," King Aldren continued, "For the first time in living memory, the divine pantheon of Lusteria has reached beyond the veil to select mortal champions. Each of you bears the blessing of a deity, chosen specifically for the trials ahead."
Jace glanced around at his fellow summoned heroes, really studying them for the first time. They were an eclectic group, each carrying themselves with a confidence he wished he possessed. "Lyss didn't mention this part to me," he thought to himself.
"Step forward and declare yourselves," the King commanded. "Let the court of Lusteria know who stands as our champions."
The mercenary was the first to move.
"I am Tor, chosen of Thalor, God of War," he declared, raising his enormous two-handed sword in salute.
The King nodded approvingly as Tor stepped back. The scholarly man came next.
"Kael, blessed by Veyra, Goddess of Knowledge," he said with a respectful bow.
The polished noble stepped forward. "I am Elliot, champion of Elyra, Goddess of Freedom."
The lady stepped up next, her presence commanding immediate respect. "Zara, servant of Aethra, Goddess of Judgment."
Finally, Dren moved forward "Dren Holt, son of Aldren Holt, favored of Solien, God of Glory. My patron promises victory to those bold enough to seize it. Under my leadership, we will not merely survive this crisis but we will emerge triumphant and legendary."
Each declaration had been met with murmurs of approval from the court, nods of respect from the guards, and even what seemed like genuine admiration from King Aldren himself.
Now all eyes turned to Jace, and he felt the weight of their expectations like a physical burden on his shoulders.
He stepped forward awkwardly, his clothes looking shabby and out of place next to the splendor of his companions. His voice cracked slightly as he began to speak, forcing him to clear his throat and start again.
"I'm… I'm Wart," he said, immediately regretting how informal he sounded compared to the others. "I'm chosen by Lyss, Goddess of Desire."
The silence that followed was deafening. It stretched on for long, uncomfortable seconds, broken only by the sound of shifting armor as even the guards turned to stare at him. The other champions exchanged glances. Dren's lip curled in what was unmistakably a sneer.
"Lyss?" King Aldren's voice was carefully neutral, but Jace could hear the underlying skepticism. "I am… unfamiliar with this deity."
Before Jace could attempt an explanation he didn't have, a commotion near the court scribes drew everyone's attention. The magical scribe responsible for recording the proceedings for the Hall of Records was staring at his enchanted quill in bewilderment. The pen had been flowing smoothly as he recorded each champion's declaration, but when it came to writing Jace's patron's name, it had begun to stutter and skip. Now, as they watched, dark ink began to bleed from the tip, spreading across the parchment in patterns that hurt to look at directly.
"What in the nine hells?" the scribe muttered, frantically trying to blot the spreading stain.
The hooded figure who had been standing silently near the throne throughout the proceedings suddenly threw back her hood, revealing a woman with silver hair and eyes that seemed to hold the wisdom of ages. Those ancient eyes were now wide with surprise as she stared at Jace with undisguised fascination.
"Remarkable," she whispered, though her voice carried clearly in the stunned silence.
King Aldren's eyes narrowed as he studied Jace with renewed intensity. The weight of that royal gaze felt like being examined under a microscope, and Jace fought the urge to fidget under the scrutiny.
"Your patron is… unconventional," the King said finally. "But it matters not. If you possess power and can pledge loyalty to Lusteria, you will serve alongside your fellow champions."
An adviser stepped forward, his face pale with concern. "Your Majesty, perhaps we should investigate this irregularity further. A deity unknown to our records—"
"Enough," King Aldren cut him off with a sharp gesture. "I will not turn away a weapon when war is upon us. The demons will not pause their assault while we debate theological mysteries."
Dren scoffed under his breath, just loud enough for the nearby champions to hear. "Some weapon. Goddess of Desire? What's he going to do, seduce the demons to death?"
Tor's massive hand clamped down on Dren's shoulder with enough force to make him wince.
"Show respect," he rumbled, his voice carrying a warning that even Dren seemed to recognize.
Jace exhaled quietly, relief flooding through him at Tor's unexpected support. He could see the doubt in the eyes around him, feel their skepticism. Whatever Lyss had planned for him, it was clear that his path would be more complicated than those of his fellow champions.
"Your training begins immediately," King Aldren announced. "You will be instructed in combat, tactics, and the specific nature of the demonic threat we face. Deployment will occur in waves as you prove your readiness."
He gestured toward a side door where several military officers waited. "The first scouting mission begins in two days. A corrupted forest to the east, where our patrols have reported… unusual activity. It will serve as your baptism of fire." His gaze swept across all six champions. "If you return from that forest, you will return as true soldiers of Lusteria."
The champions began to file out, following the officers toward whatever training awaited them, Jace caught the silver-haired woman—Lila, he thought he'd heard someone call her—staring at him with undisguised curiosity.
*Who is his goddess?* Lila thought to herself, *And why have I never encountered her name in all my centuries of study?*
The questions multiplied as she watched the awkward young man disappear through the doorway. There was something about him, something that set her magical senses on edge in a way she couldn't quite identify.
As the throne room began to empty, King Aldren remained seated, staring at the door through which his newly appointed champions had departed. The weight of his crown felt heavier than ever, and the fate of his kingdom rested on six strangers, including one whose patron deity remained a complete mystery.
*Gods help us all,* he thought grimly. *We're going to need every miracle we can get.*