Chains of Divinity

The crystal's light faded from Lysara's hands, its ancient magic dissipating into the shadows of the hidden chamber. She exhaled slowly, steadying herself against the weight of what she'd just done.

Then—a sound.

A soft shuffle of fabric, barely more than a whisper. A presence just outside the chamber's entrance.

Someone was listening.

Lysara whirled toward the door, her heart thundering against her ribs. She moved with practiced silence, drawing closer to the entrance. A shadow shifted in the torchlight beyond—and then the figure bolted.

No. No, no, no.

She didn't think—she ran. Her robes whispered against stone as she pursued the retreating figure through torch-lit corridors, magic gathering at her fingertips like frost before a storm. Whoever it was, they couldn't be allowed to reveal what they'd heard.

The figure ducked into a side passage. Lysara followed, power humming through her veins. The moment they turned the corner—she struck.

Magic erupted from her hands in a controlled burst, slamming the eavesdropper against the wall. Dust cascaded from cracked stone as torchlight revealed their face.

Elaris. The young squire who served under Dain.

"L-Lady Lysara—what are you doing?" Fear and confusion warred in his young features.

Lysara stepped closer, her eyes cold as midwinter frost. "What did you hear?"

Elaris hesitated. Lysara's fingers glowed brighter, magic crackling with warning.

"Everything," he lied.

She pressed a hand against his chest, weaving a subtle spell that detected the flutter of his heartbeat, the rhythm of truth and deception. Relief flickered through her—he didn't know everything. Not yet.

"You will say nothing." The words fell like stones into still water.

But Elaris, despite the fear in his eyes, didn't look away. Something else burned beneath his terror—determination.

"If I do," he breathed, "Dain will know. The others will know. And they'll reward me."

"You think they will reward you for this?"

Elaris swallowed hard but nodded. "You're working against us. Against the gods." His voice steadied with each word. "Dain won't stand for that. If I tell him, he'll have to act."

Lysara's fingers tightened, magic pulsing between them. "And if I make sure you don't get the chance?"

For a moment, silence stretched between them like a drawn bow. Then—Elaris did something she didn't expect.

He scoffed.

"You won't kill me."

Lysara's magic flickered. A hesitation she couldn't afford.

Elaris saw it. "You're not like Kael. You're not a murderer."

She exhaled sharply, cursing his naive certainty. The pressure of her spell eased, but not enough to let him flee.

"Listen to me, Elaris." Her voice dropped, becoming quieter but no less intense. "You think you know what this war is about. You don't."

"I know Kael is a monster."

Lysara met his gaze steadily. "And what if I told you the gods are worse?"

She began to pace, her words carrying the weight of forbidden knowledge. "Kael was not always what he is now. You know that. You've heard the stories. The gods took him. Broke him. Turned him into a weapon. And when he stopped obeying?" She turned, fixing him with a stare that seemed to see through flesh to soul. "They tried to erase him."

"That's not the full story," Elaris protested, but uncertainty had crept into his voice.

"No. But it's the part they don't want you to hear." She pressed on, sensing the crack in his conviction. "Zephyr was supposed to be their perfect weapon against him. And Kael—he didn't just win, Elaris. He erased him."

Elaris flinched. They had all felt it—that moment when Zephyr's divine presence had simply ceased to exist, leaving a void in reality itself.

"The gods are losing control. And when gods lose control?" She stepped closer, lowering her voice to barely above a whisper. "People like you and me suffer for it."

"Then why warn Kael?" Uncertainty flickered in Elaris's eyes. "If he's right, why stop the gods from sending Icarion?"

"Because Icarion isn't justice. He isn't balance." Her voice hardened. "He's revenge."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do. Because that's exactly what the gods have done before."

Silence fell between them, heavy with the weight of forbidden truth. Lysara watched as Elaris struggled, his breathing unsteady, fingers curling into fists. She could see it in his eyes—he wanted to be right, wanted to believe in the justice of the gods. But doubt had taken root, and even the most devout faith could be shaken by truth.

"If you tell them," she said softly, "they won't reward you. They will use you. The gods don't reward loyalty. They demand it."

Elaris's jaw tightened. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then—he exhaled sharply, defeat and determination mingling in his voice.

"What do you want me to do?"

The torches flickered, casting dancing shadows on the walls of the fortress corridor. In that moment, another piece of divine authority cracked, another soul began to question what they had always believed to be true. And somewhere far above, in their eternal realm, the gods continued their silence—unaware that their greatest threat was not Kael's power, but the truth about how they wielded their own.