In the blackest reaches of the realm between realms, the space after time but before fate, the Forgotten King sat on his throne of ruin, hunched like a nightmare breathing.
Around him?
Nothing.
Because he had eaten everything else.
Planets? Snapped like berries.
Gods? Ripped into shards, scattered across aeons.
He didn't destroy.
He unmade.
đź’€ What He Has Planned
1. Fracture the Divine Veil
He's not trying to kill the gods. He wants to consume them.
Their memories.
Their domains.
Their fucking names.
Gone.
And once the veil is shattered, divinity becomes flesh. Weak. Bleeding. Breakable. That's when he'll strike.
"They worshipped Rhiannan? Let them scream her name as I crack her like a wishbone."
2. Corrupt the Pentacle
He only needs one of the six. One to fall. One to bend.
The mark on Liam? Just a trial run.
A tether.
He's studying them. Testing who breaks first under pressure, under pain, under love.
He knows the power of the pentacle is unity…
…so he plans to unravel it with truths, betrayals, and temptations.
3. Collapse the Realms
Reality itself? A web.
The King? He's the spider.
He's already seeded rot in the royal bloodline, in the bone seer, in the minds of kings.
Next?
He'll break the dream realm, corrupt the subconscious of mortals, drive the world into collective madness.
No one will be safe. Awake or asleep.
The Extent of His Power
Let's get fucking technical:
Reality Warping: He rewrites the laws of physics. Time melts in his presence. Causality buckles.
Memory Erosion: He can rip entire histories from existence. Not just forgotten, unwritten.
Godslayer Magic: His power feeds off belief. The more people doubt the gods, the stronger he becomes.
Soul Branding: Anyone who accepts his "gift" becomes a sleeper agent, some don't even know it.
Fleshcrafting: Twists beings into monsters with a thought. Shadow beasts are just the beginning.
What It Will Take to Defeat Him
1. Complete the Pentacle Bond
The six must be more than connected, they must be one. Emotionally. Magically. Spiritually. One crack and the spell breaks.
2. The Chalice. The Crown. The Scepter. The Sentries.
All four god given tools must be activated together. Each enhances different aspects:
Crown: Focuses Rhiannan's divinity.
Scepter: Channels and amplifies realm altering magic.
Chalice: Allows Rhiannan to see past the shadows and lies to the real truth.
Sentries: Their loyalty and sacrifice fuel the divine power without burning Rhiannan out.
3. Belief
Rhiannan's strength comes from the people's faith. It's not optional, it's the weapon.
The Forgotten King feeds on fear.
She must feed on hope.
That's why she has to be seen, loved, worshipped.
4. His True Name
Buried somewhere in the ancient texts, the King's true name lies. Speak it, and his power can be bound, even if only for moments. But finding it may cost blood. Or worse.
The castle never really slept anymore.
Rebellion murmured through its halls like a hymn, and the courtyard buzzed with tents, cooks, laughter, steel clashing from training matches, and whispered prayers to a living goddess.
But inside the heart of the enchanted library, far below the echo of celebration, the six stood silent.
Liam clutched the edge of the ancient stone table, his breath ragged.
"He's not done with me," he whispered. "I feel him. In my fucking blood."
Rhiannan gripped his hand, fire dancing in her touch. "No one owns you, Liam. Not anymore."
"But if I don't know what I'm fighting… I can't beat him."
Sasha shimmered to life beside them, projecting from a nearby runestone like she was bored of waiting.
"You meatbags ready to stop crying and go downstairs? Because the Library just opened a door that hasn't moved in four thousand years."
It was cold.
Not the kind of cold that bit skin. The kind that made your bones hum and your soul question its origins.
Will o wisps flickered around them, lighting the winding stairs down into a chamber none of them had ever seen, not even Elisha, who had grown up in this castle.
The door opened for Rhiannan.
Of course it did.
Inside was a single room. Round. Ancient. Lit by a shaft of moonlight from nowhere. Books lined the walls, hovering just off the stone, as though gravity had been politely dismissed.
Most were chained. Some breathed. One hissed when Kaleb looked at it too long.
And in the center? A podium of obsidian with a book that bled smoke.
Elisha didn't move. Sable growled.
"That's not of this world," the demon muttered, tail flicking, black eyes narrowed.
"It's exactly what we need," Liam said, stepping forward.
The book didn't open with hands.
It opened with pain.
Liam's mark, the strange black shade beneath his skin, shimmered as the book reacted. Pages flared open, revealing scrawled symbols and flickers of prophecy.
The First.
The Undying.
The One the Gods Abandoned.
He was real. Older than the pantheon. Forgotten not by accident… but by design.
They'd buried his name.
Erased his story.
Banished his legend.
But the tome whispered a single clue...
"You cannot slay what you do not name.
The name lies entombed, beyond reach…
Until the goddess calls it forth."
Rhiannan stepped back, lips parted, mind racing.
"I can call it?"
The book hissed, turning to ash. One line burned into the floor in ancient divine script...
"When the trials end, begin your descent."
Back in the main library, everyone was quiet. Processing.
Sable broke the silence first,
"So… ancient, god killing horror whose name was too spicy for the gods to keep around?"
"And it's somehow linked to Liam?" Arwen added, "Of fucking course it is."
Kaleb crossed his arms. "Well, this raises the stakes of the trial, huh?"
"I vote we finish the trial fast as fuck," Elisha said, "then hunt this bastard and finish it."
Mo waddled in from between two shelves, holding what appeared to be a stolen cupcake and a dagger.
"Trial first. Apocalypse later. Priorities, bitches."
Later that night, Rhiannan sat on the edge of her bed, staring out over the bustling training fields below.
Her men had gone to prepare. Rebellion leaders were sharpening their blades and their minds. Sasha was reconfiguring security barriers.
And deep in her chest, something shifted.
"His name," she whispered, "will be his undoing."
She took a deep, measured breath, releasing it slowly as her fists clenched
First, they'd face the trial.
Then, they'd face hell. Together.