“Long live Queen Morgana, may she bring a new age to Levanthria.”
255 KR
“Chaos?” I ask, confused by Laith’s words. “Why would you enjoy chaos?” Maybe he has taken one too many blows to the head.
“Through chaos,” Laith says, “there is order.” There is something different about Laith, something that I do not like that causes alarm. He carries himself differently, his eyes narrowing, a wry smile on his face. “For thousands of years I have been trapped, but thanks to your friend, I find myself free and able to walk these lands once more.” Laith looks around at our surroundings in amazement. “Although things look a little different from last time I was here.”
“The sword,” I say. It is the only thing I can think of. “You’re – ”
“Rhagor?” he answers, cutting my words short.
Laith stands before me, but it is as though I am greeted by a stranger, the way he holds himself is different, more arrogant. His eyes are narrower, his eyebrows bowed, an uncharacteristic sneer on his curt lips.
“What have you done with Laith?” I ask, panic threatening to overcome me.
For a moment no words are exchanged, and I simply stand and stare down the god that stands before me. “Answer me!” I roar.
“I answer to no man!” Rhagor bellows back, his face twisting with anger. “You are in the presence of a god, and you will bow before me.”
“What have you done with the person who that body belongs to?” I demand, unmoving in my focus.
Rhagor rolls his eyes whilst gripping the hilt of his sword, the tip of which is pressed lightly into the sodden ground. “This body, it is young and strong, perfect for me.” He raises one of his hands and inspects it closely before offering me a patronising smile. “It feels good to be free of the stone prison my mother deemed suitable for me. I think I will hold onto this body.”
“What of Laith!” I scream, fearing the worst.
“Think of his consciousness as being imprisoned. He can have his body back when I am done with it. Whether his mind will be able to process everything he sees in the future is another thing.” His grin is wide, and a fury rises within me.
“You are no god, you are a monster,” I growl, my knuckles whitening as I grip my staff.
“Insolence! You will show your god more respect than this!” Rhagor’s knuckles crack as he squeezes his sword tightly.
“You are not our god!” Vireo cries as he moves by my side. He is being supported to stand by Yaelor.
“Brave words from a peasant,” Rhagor snarls, ripping the sword up out of the ground. Within a moment, powerful energy engulfs him, whipping a frenzied storm up from the ground. Leaves, dirt, branches, and splashes of blood swirl around us as Rhagor draws on his power. It takes my breath away and it takes every part of my strength to simply remain standing. I plant my feet to the ground, just about managing to keep my balance. I have never felt power like this. As his energy grows and grows, his eyes widen as if he is invigorated by the power surge.
“You will kneel before me!” Rhagor demands. He points a finger at me before swinging his sword, and a blast of magic fires towards us, larger than anything I have ever seen before.
My staff glows brightly as it draws on energy from the forest of its own accord, as if controlled by someone else. I feel the magic rise from the ground and pulsate into my arms, my body tensing up as the power courses through me. It is as though I am a conduit for the staff instead of the other way around. My own thoughts become guided as if my instinct tells me what to do. I step towards the blast and spin into it, greeting the magic with the side of my staff as I send the magic back towards Rhagor.
His face drops in surprise at my action and as I threaten to turn his own magic against him, he uses his sword to deflect the blast away from himself and towards the trees behind him. When it hits them, it tears through the trunks, sending multiple trees crashing to the ground, an army of birds escaping from the foliage.
This quickly turns to rage as Rhagor fixes his stern gaze on Vireo and Yaelor who stand beside me. He swings his blade quickly, firing three further blasts towards them. The magic is ferocious and sears the ground as it approaches them, the heat threatening to sear our skin, even at this distance.
I step in front of the blasts and slam my staff into the ground, letting the forest’s magic guide me once more. It flows freely through my body. I feel the strain given the amount of energy being used, but it is a level I can sustain.
The blasts explode in front of us as if they have been met by a wall of glass, my barrier spell sustaining the refined power that Rhagor wields. The blast causes me to stagger back as molten magic lashes against the ground in front of us once it disperses. Had that blast connected, it would have incinerated all three of us.
“That is not possible!” Rhagor inspects his sword as if it is broken. “How is it you have my sister’s blessing?” he asks. “It was my killing of her that led to me being entombed in stone for all this time. How is it that you wield her magic? I sense it, I can feel it.” He takes an over-exaggerated inhale of air through his nose. “I can smell her power, this place reeks of it.” His eyes light up as they are drawn to the staff that I wield, my own artefact. “How does it feel to wield the power of a god?” he asks.
I have never thought about it this way.
“I do not have time for this.” Rhagor raises his head and calls out as if talking to the whispering winds that swirl towards the trees. “Sister, you have chosen your champion. It will be interesting to see how all of this plays out.” Rhagor smiles at me, then raises his sword and slams it into the ground. With a flash, he is gone, his whereabouts unknown.
“No, it can’t be. This is not what the vision showed me.” I feel numb. The sword was meant to bring about an age of prosperity. Instead, it has released the fury of a god long trapped, seeking vengeance on these lands. I cannot bear the thought of what has happened to Laith, my dear Laith. My legs buckle at the knees.
“What have I done?” I desperately search the skies above, looking for the answers to the many questions I have. “Why have you twisted my visions to bring us to this point?” I scream at the gods who clearly toy with me. “Why is it you manipulate us in such ways?”
Laith is gone. His kindness, his bravery, taken in an instant by a god who cares not for his body.
“What the fuck was that?” Vireo asks. “Jordell, JORDELL!” Vireo knocks against my shoulder, his words a mere dampness in my periphery. “If it is true what he says and he is in fact a god, we are not equipped to fight him. We barely made it out alive against the Askelan forces.”
Vireo is true in what he says. I have dedicated my life for the last few years to finding that blade. I was so sure that it would end the Great War that is to come, but instead it seems to be the trigger. All that we have done, everything we have been through, we were just playing right into the hands of fate.
“I – I don’t know what to do.” I drop my staff to the ground and raise my trembling hands to my face.
“What about Laith? There has to be a way to get him back,” Yaelor asks, panic-stricken, showing a rare glimpse of her emotion.
“I don’t know, Yaelor. He is gone. My son, he is gone.” Tears erupt, stinging my eyes. My chest feels as though it is about to collapse on itself. Each breath is heavy as I gasp for air, grief eviscerating any other emotion in my body.
“He was supposed to bring about the change needed in this world,” I splutter. And for the first time, I am bereft of any ideas. I have no answers.
How does one go to war with a god?