Godslayer's Legacy

Kael was gathering firewood in the Blackwood, a task as familiar as breathing. The sun was hidden behind thick, dark clouds, casting a ghostly light over the forest. Everything felt colder than usual. The smell of damp soil and decaying leaves hung in the air, but today, something felt off.

Kael paused, straightening his back. His breath was visible in the crisp air. The forest, usually alive with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves, was eerily silent. An unnatural stillness settled over everything, making him feel like the world was holding its breath.

His instincts screamed that something wasn't right. He scanned the dim woods around him but saw nothing. The quiet pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating.

"Just nerves," he muttered, trying to shake off the unease. He bent to pick up another piece of wood, but the feeling lingered—something was wrong.

A voice broke the silence, making him jump.

"Kael!" Rhea, his aunt, appeared at the edge of the clearing. Her stern expression and crossed arms did nothing to calm him. Her sharp eyes reflected the same unease gnawing at him.

"You've been out here long enough. It's time to head back."

Kael released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, trying to muster a smile. "Just finishing up. I needed more firewood for the fire."

Rhea's gaze stayed on him, her worry barely hidden behind her usual sternness. "The offering is today, Kael. We can't be late."

The mention of the offering made his stomach tighten. He knew what that meant—the monthly ritual where the village would give up what little they had to the gods, begging for their mercy. It was a custom as old as the village itself, born not out of faith but out of fear.

"I'll be right behind you," he replied, trying to sound calm.

Rhea hesitated, then nodded, her eyes lingering on him before disappearing into the woods.

As Kael watched her go, frustration bubbled inside him. The offering always left a bad taste in his mouth. The village would sacrifice crops, livestock, and handmade goods every month, pleading with the gods to spare them from their wrath.

But no matter how much they gave, it never felt like enough. Besides, they were still needed to pay the taxes. The Divine Chosen would come and collect the taxes from the villagers.

Grabbing the last piece of firewood, he slung his crude sack over his shoulder and started walking back toward the village. With each step, the weight of the offering bore down on him, making the familiar forest path feel longer as if the woods themselves were conspiring to delay his return.

When Kael finally emerged from the tree line, the village was a hive of nervous activity. Villagers bustled about the square, preparing the altar with their offerings. The air was tense, like the charged atmosphere before a storm.

The children, usually so full of life, sat quietly on the outskirts of the square, their wide eyes mirroring the fear that gripped the village. The sight sent a chill down Kael's spine.

He spotted Rhea near the center of the square, speaking in hushed tones with Tovan, the village chief. Though bent with age, Tovan's eyes still held a sharp, keen awareness that seemed to pierce through the mundane and into deeper truths.

As Kael moved closer, hoping to slip by unnoticed, Tovan's sharp gaze caught him. The chief's intense expression sent a prickle of unease down Kael's spine.

"Kael," Tovan greeted him, his voice dry and crackling like dead leaves. "You've come at just the right moment."

Kael shifted awkwardly, glancing at Rhea for a hint of what Tovan meant. "I was just picking up some firewood," he replied, his voice a little too casual.

Tovan's eyes narrowed slightly. "Firewood, yes. But did you feel it? The shift in the air?"

Kael hesitated, glancing again at Rhea. Her face remained unreadable, but her slight nod encouraged him to speak.

"I did," Kael admitted quietly. "It felt... wrong. Like something was watching me."

At his words, Tovan's expression darkened. He exchanged a significant look with Rhea, which made Kael's skin crawl unease.

"The gods are restless," Rhea murmured, her voice low but laced with worry. "They've sensed something… something that displeases them."

A cold knot formed in Kael's stomach. Everyone in the village knew that upsetting the gods could bring their wrath down upon them. The gods were fickle and cruel, and when angered, their punishments were swift and merciless.

"Why?" Kael asked, his voice tinged with fear. "What's making them angry?"

Tovan's eyes turned grim. "The gods are unpredictable, Kael. They take what they want when they want. And when something challenges their power, they react—ruthlessly."

Kael swallowed hard. How could anything challenge the gods? They were untouchable, beyond the reach of mortals.

Before he could ask more, a soft, mournful sound echoed through the square—the signal for the ritual to begin. A hush fell over the villagers as all eyes turned to the ancient stone altar in the center of the square.

The altar, worn smooth by countless years of use, seemed to pulse strangely. It was said to be a remnant of the Titans, the ancient beings who had once dared challenge the gods themselves. It was used for a different purpose—to appease the gods and remind the villagers of their place.

Tovan raised his hands, his voice strong despite the years weighing on him. He began reciting prayers in an ancient language that only a few in the village understood, each word carrying the weight of countless offerings before this one.

"Videre, Titanes antiqui, custodes mundi," Tovan intoned, his voice resonating through the square. "Praecipite nobis misericordiam, ne ira deorum nos consumat. Vitae nostrae vobis offerimus, ut in tenebris luceamus."

The villagers joined in, their voices trembling with fear as they repeated the ancient plea for mercy. “Misericordiam, Domine... Misericordiam."

Kael stood at the square's edge, his heart hammering in his chest. The air was thick with tension, and the unease he'd felt earlier grew, almost suffocating.

Suddenly, the wind picked up, howling through the square. The flames on the altar leaped higher, flickering wildly as if caught in a storm. The villagers gasped and stepped back in fear.

Then, the ground began to tremble. It was a low rumble at first, but it quickly grew louder and more violent. The earth shook beneath their feet, sending waves of panic through the crowd.

Without warning, the ancient altar cracked.

"What—what's happening?!" one of the villagers cried out, her voice shrill with fear.

"The gods are angry!" another shouted, his voice trembling.

Chaos erupted. The villagers dropped to their knees, bowing their heads to the ground, begging for forgiveness. Their frantic pleas filled the air, rising in desperation.

Kael, however, stood frozen, his eyes locked on the altar. Something stirred inside him—fear, yes, but something else, something deeper. He couldn't look away.

Amna, watching from the crowd amid the chaos, approached him. Her usual calm demeanor was gone, replaced by a mixture of awe and fear.

"Kael, what's happening?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the din of the panicked villagers.

"I don't know," Kael replied, his voice tight with dread. "But it's not the gods. It's something else."

The cracks in the altar widened, and a blinding light burst forth from the depths of the stone. The villagers screamed, shielding their eyes from the overwhelming brightness, but Kael was transfixed, unable to move.

Then, from within the broken stone, a massive figure began to emerge.

Amna gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "It's… it's a Titan," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Kael's heart pounded as the Titan rose from the ruins of the altar, towering above the village. Its body was a mass of glowing, golden light crackling with power. The air around it buzzed with energy so intense that the ground seemed to tremble in fear.

Tovan, who had been silent until now, spoke barely louder than a whisper. "It seems we have no way out this time."

Kael and Amna exchanged a look of disbelief. A Titan? Here? Now? The implications were staggering. The village would be in even greater danger if the gods—or worse, the Divine Chosen—discovered this.

Before Kael could speak, the Titan's eyes fixed directly on him, burning with the light of a thousand suns. The rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving only Kael and the Titan.

"You," the Titan's voice rumbled, shaking the earth beneath Kael's feet. "You are the one."

Sensing the Titan's gaze on Kael, the villagers turned to him in shock. Some whispered in fear, while others knelt, unable to withstand the pressure of the Titan's presence.

Kael's mind raced. The one? What did that mean? Why him? He tried to make sense of the Titan's words, but before he could even begin, the Titan raised its massive hand, glowing with a radiant light.

"Kael!" Amna's voice cut through the heavy air, filled with panic. She reached out to him, but her feet felt rooted to the ground as if some unseen force held her in place.

Kael couldn't move. His body refused to respond. The Titan's hand moved closer, its light blinding him, swallowing him whole.

And then, everything went white.