The sky changed.
There was no thunder or storm to herald it: the light simply seized the heavens. First, a golden streak tore through the clouds above the ancient peaks; then another, and another, until within seconds the entire firmament was crisscrossed with glowing cracks.
The soldiers who were still standing looked up. No one gave an order, because none was necessary: every soul upon the earth felt the same instinctive oppression.
Something was descending.
Lusian watched the phenomenon from the battlements, his right hand tightening around the hilt of Dainslein.
—What the hell...?
A pair of familiar arms suddenly wrapped around his waist. He spun around: Elizabeth. Her face was speckled with dust, and unruly strands of hair clung to her temples, but she was unharmed. Lusian pulled her against his chest without hesitation.
—What are you doing here?
—I came to find you —she murmured, resting her face against his breastplate.
—This is no place for you.
—I know.
—Then you need to turn around and leave.
Elizabeth looked up. An unfamiliar glimmer shone in her eyes, something Lusian could not decipher at first.
—I won't leave you alone. Ever.
Lusian exhaled heavily.
—Elizabeth...
—No —she cut him off with a faint smile—. Not this time.
The duke regarded her in silence for a few moments before shaking his head in resignation.
—What a troublesome woman...
—And yet you love me.
—That is precisely my biggest problem.
Elizabeth let out a soft laugh. For one suspended second, in the middle of that graveyard covered in mud and soot, they seemed to be completely alone in the world.
Until the heavens roared.
They both looked up at once. A column of abyssal light descended from the celestial rifts; it did not fall rapidly, but descended with terrifying majesty.
As though the heavens themselves were collapsing upon the earth, the trees bent and the mud split beneath the invisible weight crushing down upon the soldiers' feet. The creatures still roaming the battlefield fled in a stampede; even the shadows recoiled.
The crusaders began dropping to their knees, one after another. Some sobbed; others raised their hands toward the sky.
—It's him!
—The Oracle!
—Velyrion!
The figure emerged at the heart of the light. A man—or at least someone with the silhouette of one—dressed in a white robe threaded with golden veins. His hair floated without any wind, and his eyes seemed to contain an entire firmament. He did not walk; his feet merely brushed the earth.
And when they touched it, the entire Duchy trembled.
Lusian felt crushing pressure against his chest. It was not fear, but something more primitive: a visceral instinct warning him that this entity belonged to a plane of existence beyond his reach. Elizabeth felt it too. Her fingers dug into Lusian's arm, but she did not retreat a single step.
Velyrion raised his gaze, and his composure shifted. He had expected to find a monster, a devastating army, perhaps even Kheris himself... but not her. His eyes locked onto Elizabeth, and for a fraction of a second, a shadow of confusion crossed his face before vanishing.
—So you're here too...
Elizabeth remained silent. Lusian stepped forward, placing himself between them. Velyrion stared at him in absolute silence before speaking.
—Lusian Douglas —the god's voice did not thunder, because it did not need to; its echo permeated the entire valley—. You have caused far too many problems.
Lusian narrowed his eyes.
—I don't remember inviting you.
A collective gasp swept through the crusaders. No one spoke to a deity like that. Velyrion did not even flinch, keeping his gaze fixed upon the duke... until something behind Lusian began to stir.
A shadow. First a faint stain; then a colossal mass. Darkness rose from the ground, towering like a living mountain. The crusaders stumbled backward, and Velyrion's expression completely fell apart.
—No...
The darkness took shape, and two crimson eyes opened within it. An ancient voice tore across the battlefield:
—It's been a long time, Velyrion.
The god's face hardened.
—Kheris.
His ancient adversary emerged from the darkness. He did not look like an uncontrolled beast, and that was the most terrifying part: he possessed the majesty of a god, but one who had abandoned any pretense of mercy. His gaze swept across the crusaders, lingered on Lusian, and finally returned to Velyrion.
—You still use mortals to do your dirty work. —And you still hide behind them.
Kheris gave a cold smile.
—I am not hiding —he said as the ground beneath his feet darkened with shadow—. I am protecting them.
The crusaders raised their weapons in unison, but Velyrion calmly extended one hand.
—Do not intervene.
The command brought the entire battlefield to a standstill, even subduing the Heroes. Emily felt a shiver run down her spine: that voice was nothing like those of priests or great warriors; it was an absolute command that her muscles obeyed before her mind could even process it.
Kara clenched her teeth, holding her breath.
So this... is a god.
Velyrion turned his gaze back to Kheris.
—I thought you had been consumed by oblivion.
—You banished me.
—You were judged.
—You rigged the trial.
The radiance surrounding Velyrion grew incandescent.
—Your corruption threatened the balance of creation.
Kheris let out a dry laugh, devoid of humor.
—The balance? —He took a step forward, and the sky began to darken.— You created a prophecy.
He took another step, and the clouds began swirling into a raging vortex.
—You manipulated the Oracle.
A third step.
—And you sent your pawns to banish me.
The light surrounding Velyrion trembled with subtle instability.
—It was necessary.
Kheris stopped dead.
—That's what you said the first time.
Silence descended upon the valley. For the first time, the crusaders stopped perceiving their god as a perfect, immaculate figure. There was a crack in the myth: an ancient conflict, a grudge born long before humanity ever set foot upon the earth.
Velyrion shifted his gaze toward Lusian, and as he examined him closely, his composure shattered. It was not anger that transformed his face, but an unmistakable trace of fear.
—You...
Lusian frowned, tense.
—What?
The god took a hesitant step toward him.
—You are not part of the pattern.
Kheris smiled triumphantly.
—Now you understand.
—You are not written in the Oracle's scriptures —Velyrion murmured.
—He never was.
The god's eyes fixed upon Lusian like daggers.
—What the hell are you?
Kheris answered for him, savoring every word:
—I brought him here from another world.
A deathly silence fell over the battlefield. Even Lusian seemed to lose his breath. Velyrion stood frozen, stripped of all eloquence.
—That's... impossible.
—And yet —Kheris said, extending a hand toward Lusian as the duke's shadows twisted in response—here he is.
Velyrion's halo flickered violently.
—A soul foreign to the cycle... —Velyrion murmured—. A man who was never meant to exist here.
Lusian looked from one entity to the other, irritated by the uncertainty.
—What the hell are you two talking about?
Neither answered him. Velyrion took a step backward, visibly shaken. For the first time since descending from the heavens, the deity looked genuinely vulnerable.
Kheris regarded him with contemptuous serenity.
—That is your great mistake, old friend. You tried to eradicate something you could not even see.
Darkness began devouring the surroundings around Kheris. Velyrion raised his hand, and light erupted into a blinding blaze over the valley.
—Then I will erase him from existence here and now!
Kheris spread his arms wide, and the night itself answered his call.
—Try it!
The clash was immediate. There were no clashes of steel or cries of war: only the brutal impact of two primordial forces. Light and darkness collided, splitting the heavens in two. The crusaders were hurled backward by the shockwave, ancient trees were ripped from the earth, and the walls of the Duchy of Douglas groaned on the verge of collapse.
For a few brief moments, Lusian understood a truth he had never wanted to accept: the gods were not mere legends, nor symbols carved into stone, nor distant echoes reverberating through temples. They were there, manifested before him, prepared to lay waste to the world in a conflict forged long before his own existence.
Elizabeth reached for his hand.
When he looked at her, Lusian found no trace of fear on her face; she was simply staring at the torn-open heavens.
Elizabeth intertwined her fingers with his, tightening her grip.