Chapter 7: Year 317 After the Fall
Dust clung to Darien's skin like a second flesh.
He sat alone outside the bone temple, watching the wind carve slow patterns into the sand. Behind him, the Seer's words echoed like thunder trapped in stone.
The first god… or the last man.
He touched the mark on his forehead. It pulsed—once, twice—then settled into silence.
Above him, the sun stood still in a pale sky. No birds. No clouds. Just heat, and memory.
Then the Seer's voice returned, softer now, from within the temple.
> "Do you know what year it is, boy?"
Darien turned. "Three hundred seventeen... after the Fall."
The Seer nodded. "Three hundred seventeen years since the gods fled and the world was left to rot. But time is not just numbers. It is a circle. And this year... the circle closes."
He stood, brushing dust from his legs. "What does that mean?"
She stepped from the shadows, her gold veil catching light that didn't exist.
"It means the blood has returned exactly when it was written to. And that others will rise—marked like you, or worse."
Darien's breath caught. "Others?"
"They will not all seek to stop you. Some will want to serve you. Others… will want to wear your skin."
Silence fell again. The wind howled across the canyon.
The Seer held out a scroll sealed in black wax. "Take this. It will lead you to the ruins of Elyar. There, you will find what the gods left behind."
He took the scroll with shaking fingers.
"And if I fail?" he asked.
She smiled, sadly.
"Then this world ends not with fire… but with worship."