The road to Max's village stretched on for hours, dust clinging to boots and cloaks. Nobody spoke at first. Eventually, someone broke the silence.
"How does your village look, Max?"
"Do you… miss it?"
Max didn't slow. "I cannot," he said, voice low. "And I will not… go back to the way I was."
That ended it. No one asked again. They hadn't gone far before the still air trembled. From the bend in the road came a marching host armor, banners, the heavy rhythm of hundreds of boots. At the front rode a king in dark plate, his presence heavy as stone. Over five hundred soldiers followed, faces hard, weapons ready. King Morvax, at Max's side, reined in his horse. The stranger's eyes met his. The world seemed to hold its breath. Swords might have been drawn in the next heartbeat… but both kings passed without a word, each unwilling to be the one to strike first. "Who was that?" Max asked after the column had gone. Leo's answer was quiet. "Korrax of Falcridge. They call him the Skull Forger." Max's eyes narrowed. "From here on, I'll lead." The village was not what strangers imagined. You could walk in easily enough, but the real heart of it lay hidden unless someone knew the way. Max led them straight there. But the priest had already felt their arrival. The toll of a deep bell rolled through the air, calling the people from their homes. Faces appeared in doorways worried, waiting. "Maximus," the priest said, his voice tight. "What have you done?" Max's reply was cold. "I told you I don't belong here. You can't keep me like a dog in a cage."
King Morvax stepped forward. "Where is the girl?" Max turned his head slightly. "Come out, Alex. I know you hear me." The priest's eyes widened. "Alex run!" he shouted. "Run now! You must not be caught!" But she didn't move. Zarex struck first, his blade cutting the priest down. Blood spilled across the dirt. Alex's parents ran to her, voices breaking. "Run, Alex! You are our only hope!" Still she stayed rooted to the spot. Tharok's sword fell, and her parents crumpled. "Kill them all," Morvax commanded. "Bring me the girl." Ten soldiers rushed forward. That broke her frozen limbs, and she ran down narrow paths, heart thundering in her ears. She didn't stop until the trees gave way to the open sea. An arrow hissed past, then another struck her in the back just as she leapt into the water. The ocean swallowed her whole. Blood drifted around her in a slow red bloom. Above, the soldiers watched. When she didn't rise, they turned back, telling their king she was gone. He barely cared. There were always others. Alex sank deep. Pain and grief twisted together inside her chest until something else took shape harder, darker. The faces of her parents and the priest burned in her mind. When she finally broke the surface, gasping, the wound was gone. No blood. No scar. Only the cold stillness in her heart.
She staggered back to the village. It was silent now. The ground was dark with blood, bodies lying where they'd fallen. She found her parents' clothes, tore them into strips, and tied them around her arms and head. She went into the forest and began striking a tree with her fists. Once. Twice. Again and again until her knuckles split and her breath came ragged.
"I will kill them," she whispered. "Every last one." From that day on, she trained alone. She took a sword from the priest's house. Rain, hunger, and cold meant nothing. She hunted for food, buried the dead herself, and hardened her body into a weapon. The girl Alex was gone. Something else had taken her place. Not a saint. Not a savior.
A goddess born of vengeance.
Far away, in Redmere, Max lived the life he'd bargained for. His gold was stacked high. He fought alongside warriors, decorated his home with trophies, and dined well every night. But when he closed his eyes, the faces of the dead came back. No treasure could keep them away.
And in the ruins he had left, the dark goddess sharpened her blade.
After all the rain that had fallen on her mixed with her own tears, screams, anger, and hatred she stopped. The crying just ended, as if her body refused to give any more. The clouds, dark for so many days, finally broke apart, and light stretched over the whole village.
Her hair hung across her face as she knelt before the tree she had been striking until her fists bled. She stayed there for a moment, breathing, then pushed herself up. She clenched her hands tight, and the sand beneath her shifted. Grain by grain it pulled together until another sword took shape identical to the one she had stolen from the priest's house. Now she had two.
"No more crying," she muttered. "It's time. I'll find them, every last one, and I'll destroy them."
With that, she left her village behind. Her steps carried her toward another place, a settlement known as Crystalden. Crystalden was no ordinary place it was a village of enchantments, where every street seemed touched by hidden magic. Alex arrived there with a simple purpose: to buy clothes and two empty sheaths for swords. But she had no money.
Desperate, she wandered until she reached a noisy square where crowds gathered to watch brutal contests. Fighters clashed for entertainment, and the victors were rewarded with gold. Alex, determined to earn something, decided to stay. In the arena, a man clad in heavy iron armor dominated the fights. His name was Milton. With a massive battle-axe in hand, he had already defeated ten challengers that day. Each opponent brought him five thousand pieces of gold his earnings now stood at fifty thousand. Across from him stood his latest challenger, a young man named Alvin. Unlike Milton, Alvin wore no armor. He carried only a sword and a trembling spirit.
Floyd, the master of ceremonies, raised his voice to the roaring crowd:
"Whoever can defeat our champion will win all his earningstripled!"
Alex folded her arms and silently watched as the fight began. Milton, broad and towering, stomped forward with the weight of a giant, his armored boots shaking the ground. Alvin froze, fear chaining his limbs. With a savage roar, Milton swung his axe in a wide arc. Alvin stumbled, fell, and panic consumed him.
"I surrender! I surrender!" he cried, tears streaming.
But mercy never touched Milton's heart. He kicked Alvin across the arena, sending him crashing like a ragdoll. Then, ignoring the boy's pleas, he crushed his bones beneath steel and fury. The crowd erupted with delight, their cheers echoing like thunder.
Among the spectators was Lady Selena, a wealthy noblewoman draped in silks. From the very first duel, she had been watching keenly not merely for sport, but because she sought something more. She was searching for someone worthy, someone who could guard her… and perhaps, fate was about to bring her eyes to Alex. Lady Selena wasn't looking for someone loud and boastful. What she needed was quiet strength someone who could protect her without drawing attention. But the so called champion could hardly contain himself. Every swing of his axe came with a shout, every victory with a roar, as though silence were an enemy he could never defeat.
She ignored his theatrics, though her eyes never left the arena. For the first time, she realized how little she knew of the struggles ordinary people endured outside the walls of royalty.
The master of the fighting grounds stepped forward, raising his voice so all could hear. "Here stands your champion! Who dares to challenge him?"
Before the crowd could answer, Alex walked steadily into the ring.
The laughter was immediate. She was young, slight, and to them, laughably out of place. Voices rose in mockery:
"Get out before he tears you apart!"
"This isn't a playground for children."
"Pretty face, about to be ruined."
"Go find a rich husband instead!"
"Hey, girl, it's not too late to quit!"
The insults rained down, but Alex did not flinch. Her hair fell across her face, shadowing her eyes. Beneath it, she was calm, focused, and unshaken. She heard every word, yet listened to none.