Chapter 3 – The Divine Eyes Awaken
The village had not known silence like this in centuries. Smoke still curled from the shattered testing crystal, its fragments scattered across the elder's hall. Children huddled in fear. Parents whispered prayers. The visiting mage sat pale and trembling, muttering the same words again and again:
> "Not mana… not mana…"
Eryndor stood at the center of it all, his hand still tingling with the echo of power. Inside, his heartbeat thundered, not with fear, but recognition. This energy… this resonance of light and shadow… it was him. A fragment of what he once was.
The village elder's voice finally broke the silence.
"Take the boy away. Hide him until… until we know what he is."
---
That night, as the villagers tried to smother their fear with silence, far above the mortal world, a ripple spread across the heavens.
In the halls of the Astral Pantheon, where the gods of this world dwelled, a silver flame ignited in the divine mirror—a flame that had not burned for a thousand years.
The Goddess of Dawn leaned forward, her golden eyes narrowing. "This aura… it cannot be. That power was erased when the Old Pantheon fell."
Beside her, the God of Storms clenched his fist, thunder rolling in his veins. "Yet it breathes again. Balance. In a mortal child."
Another voice, dark and silken, whispered from the shadows. "If Balance has returned, then the chains of fate are breaking. And if so…" A cruel smile curved the Shadow God's lips. "…perhaps the Fallen Primordial shall awaken with him."
The Pantheon stirred. Some gods felt fear. Others, hunger. All knew one truth—
the mortal world had birthed something no god could ignore.
---
Meanwhile, in Breya Village, Eryndor sat alone beneath the stars. His foster father had tried to comfort him, his foster mother had wept in silence, but Eryndor had asked to be left outside.
The stars shimmered above, cold and eternal, just as they had in his old world. He clenched his fist, still glowing faintly with silver light.
"So… they've noticed me," he whispered, voice far older than his years.
A shiver ran through him, not from the night's chill, but from a certainty deep within his soul. This new world would not leave him in peace. The gods would come. Trials would rise. And once again, Balance would be tested.
But this time… he would not face it as a god.
This time, he would face it as Eryndor.
And perhaps, just perhaps, that would make all the difference.