Chains of Divinity

Thunder rolled across distant mountains as the heroes gathered in their fortress stronghold, far from the battlefield where Zephyr had fallen. The chamber was silent except for the crackling of torches and the occasional nervous shift of armor. Around a massive oak table sat those chosen by fate to oppose Kael, alongside the rulers of the remaining free kingdoms—though none of them looked particularly chosen or royal at the moment.

Dain, the Last Knight, stood at the head of the table, his weathered hands resting on a sword that had seen too many battles. The destruction of his homeland had left permanent shadows in his eyes, yet he carried himself with the rigid posture of a man who refused to break.

"Tell me again," he commanded, his voice carrying the weight of authority, "exactly what you saw."

Lysara, the Arcane Scholar, lifted her head from the ancient tome she'd been studying. Her fingers still trembled slightly—an aftereffect of witnessing such raw power. "The moment Zephyr fell... reality itself seemed to shudder. It wasn't just a death. It was..." She searched for words. "It was like watching a fundamental law of nature being erased."

"He killed an Apostle." Orin, the Champion of the Gods, paced the chamber like a caged beast. His faith had always been absolute, but now there was something else in his voice—rage mingled with fear. "A god's chosen. A being of pure magic. And he still won."

King Aldrich of the Northern Realms slammed his fist on the table. "What I want to know is why we weren't warned! The gods send their champion to battle this demon, and we hear nothing until after the fact?"

"Perhaps," Queen Selena of the Crystal Cities interjected, her voice sharp as winter frost, "the gods didn't want us to witness their champion's failure." Her crown of crystalline spires caught the torchlight, casting fractured shadows across the chamber. "Or perhaps they didn't think we mere mortals deserved to know."

"Watch your tongue," Orin snapped, whirling to face her. "You speak of powers beyond your comprehension—"

"Powers that have failed us repeatedly," interrupted Duke Blackthorn, his scarred face testament to battles past. "First they let Kael rise to power. Then their perfect apostle falls. And now?" He gestured to the empty throne of the recently fallen Eastern Kingdom. "How many more must die while the gods play their games?"

"And what do the gods say about this?" demanded King Aldrich, his crown sitting awkwardly on his head as though it might fall at any moment.

An uneasy silence filled the chamber. Then—

"Nothing." Ardyn, the Fallen Prince, lounged in his chair with practiced nonchalance, though his eyes missed nothing. "The gods haven't spoken since their perfect servant was destroyed. Not to heroes, not to priests, not to anyone." A smirk played at the corners of his mouth. "Rather telling, don't you think?"

"Mind your implications, Prince," warned High Priestess Mara, her white robes immaculate despite the growing tension. "The gods work in ways we cannot—"

"Cannot understand? Cannot question?" Queen Selena's laugh was bitter as burial soil. "How convenient for them."

Lysara closed her tome with a sharp snap. "You don't see it, do you? This isn't just about Zephyr anymore. Kael's war... it's no longer a rebellion. He's not fighting to survive." Her voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "He's fighting to destroy the gods themselves."

The room erupted. King Aldrich shot to his feet, face purple with rage. Duke Blackthorn barked a harsh laugh. Queen Selena's fingers tightened on her crystal staff until it cracked. The High Priestess began chanting prayers of protection.

"Madness!" roared King Aldrich. "You speak of—"

"Of what we all witnessed," Dain cut in, his quiet voice somehow carrying over the chaos. "Or have you forgotten how the sky itself broke when Zephyr fell?"

"Then what would you have us do?" Duke Blackthorn demanded. "Rally our armies? Against someone who killed a god's chosen?"

"We could surrender," Ardyn suggested, examining his nails. The room fell deadly silent. "Oh, don't look so shocked. I'm sure some of you have considered it."

"Never," Orin snarled.

"Then you'll die," Ardyn replied simply. "Like Zephyr did. Like the Eastern Kingdom did. Like—"

The chamber doors burst open, silencing all discussion. A messenger stumbled in, his face pale as death itself. "A divine power has awoken," he gasped, the words tumbling out between ragged breaths.

The table went silent. Even Ardyn sat up straight.

"The gods have sent someone else." The messenger's voice shook. "They've sent... Icarion."

The name fell like a stone into still water. Lysara's hands tightened on her tome until her knuckles went white. Orin's pacing stopped mid-step. Even Dain's stoic expression cracked for just a moment.

"The Forsaken Champion," Lysara whispered, ancient knowledge flooding her voice with dread. "They wouldn't dare..."

"Yes, they would." Orin's lips curled into a savage grin, faith rekindling in his eyes. "Finally, someone who can match Kael's power!"

"Match his power?" Ardyn laughed, but there was no humor in it. "If their perfect apostle couldn't stop him, what makes you think—"

"Because Icarion isn't being sent to stop him." Dain's quiet words cut through the growing argument. "He's being sent to end him." His grip tightened on his sword. "The gods are done testing Kael. Now they mean to destroy him."

Queen Selena rose slowly, her crystal crown catching the last rays of dying sunlight. "Then we pray, my lords and ladies, that we do not all burn in their divine war."

The chamber fell silent as darkness crept in through the windows. The war was about to change, and none who stood in that chamber could guess how many crowns would fall before it ended.