The dry spell showed no signs of ending.
Fields cracked under the relentless heat, rivers shriveled into thin streams, and even the most devout priests stood powerless before the heavens they once so confidently praised.
Town after town fell to drought and famine, and desperation gripped the heart of the empire. Starvation loomed like a shadow over the people's shoulders, their cries for help lost in the dead air.
"What are we supposed to do now?"
A farmer cried in the town square, clenching a fistful of dust where once his wheat had grown.
"Why is this happening to us?"
Another asked, voice trembling.
"We didn't choose to defy the gods!"
But no matter how they tried to justify themselves, the truth remained: they had no food. Their children were hungry. Their livestock dying. Their fields barren.
That's when rumors began to spread—at first a whisper, then louder, more insistent, more hopeful.
