Chains of Divinity

Torchlight cast wavering shadows across ancient stone as Orin led his loyalists through the fortress depths. Divine energy crackled beneath his skin, casting an eerie glow that made his followers look like ghosts in the darkness. Their drawn swords gleamed with promised violence.

They moved like wraiths toward the elven and dwarven quarters, each step carrying the weight of zealous purpose. In Orin's mind, every shadow held divine approval, every silence was the gods' permission for what he was about to do.

Then—light exploded around them.

Dozens of torches blazed to life simultaneously, revealing ranks of armed soldiers surrounding them on all sides. King Aldric stood on the rampart above, his crown catching the firelight. Beside him, Lady Sylvaria's silver armor seemed to glow with cold fury, while Thane Duran's battle-axe reflected orange flames like barely contained rage.

"What is this?" Orin's voice cracked with disbelief.

Dain stepped forward from the ring of soldiers, his weathered face set in lines of grim determination. "This is the end of your madness, Orin."

Divine energy surged visibly around Orin's form as his face twisted with rage. "You would betray the gods for these lesser races?"

"Try it, human." Thane Duran's growl echoed off stone walls as he hefted his runic axe. "See how long you last against dwarven steel."

Lady Sylvaria's voice cut through the tension like winter frost: "You wished to slaughter my people in their sleep? You are no warrior. You are filth."

Orin's fists clenched, causing divine light to spiral around his arms like angry serpents. His eyes locked onto Dain, desperate for understanding from his fellow human. "You don't understand, Dain. The gods demand purity. They have not spoken because they expect us to act!"

"And you thought they wanted this?" Dain's expression remained unreadable in the flickering light.

"I am doing what must be done!" Spittle flew from Orin's mouth as his control finally shattered.

"No, Orin." Dain's voice carried the weight of ancient stones. "You are doing what you want."

He raised his hand, and more soldiers stepped forward, tightening the circle. Among Orin's followers, weapons began to lower as reality set in. They had followed their champion into madness, but they would not follow him into suicide.

Orin saw it all—the retreat of his loyalists, the unified front of his enemies, the absolute certainty of his defeat. And he laughed, a sound that held no mirth, only the final breaking of a mind twisted by zealotry.

"You are all cowards," he spat, gripping his sword tighter. Divine energy blazed around him like a dying star. "The gods will see what you've done."

No one was surprised when he charged. Perhaps he thought divine intervention would save him. Perhaps he simply chose a warrior's death over shame. Either way, Dain's blade met him with mechanical precision.

Divine light flared one final time, then guttered out like a candle in wind. Orin fell, his blood mixing with the puddles of torchlight on the stone floor. His final expression was not of fear or pain, but of confusion—as if he couldn't understand why the gods had abandoned him in his moment of greatest faith.

From a hidden vantage point high above, Lysara and Elaris watched it all unfold.

"Well. That was satisfying." Elaris's smirk was visible even in the shadows.

Lysara nodded, watching as soldiers carried away the body of the fallen champion. "He did all the work for us."

"And now the alliance is stronger than ever—because we got rid of its biggest problem."

"For now." But there was satisfaction in her voice. They had removed a dangerous piece from the board without ever showing their hand.

Below, King Aldric was already addressing the assembled forces, speaking of unity and justice. The elven and dwarven leaders stood with him, their presence a clear message about the strength of their alliance.

But in the shadows above, Lysara's mind was already moving forward. Orin was just the first. There would be more. The gods were not done testing their forces, not done sending champions to enforce their will.

And neither was she.

In the distance, dawn began to break over the fortress walls. But some shadows, once cast, never truly fade.