Chapter 6 – The Stranger from the Heavens
The wolves' attack left the village shaken. Hunters sharpened their spears twice over, mothers kept their children close, and whispers spread faster than fire in dry grass.
But for Eryndor, the real weight was the gaze he had felt that night—the undeniable presence watching him from above. He hadn't spoken of it to anyone, but his chest still burned where the barrier had shattered, as though a mark had been branded onto his soul.
Three days later, the stranger arrived.
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He came at dusk, cloaked in travel-worn robes of deep blue. His staff, polished wood bound with silver rings, tapped lightly against the dirt road as he entered Breya. His presence drew every eye—tall, calm, and with a bearing that felt far too regal for a wanderer.
The villagers welcomed him cautiously, offering food and drink at the elder's hall. He accepted with a faint smile, but his gaze kept drifting—searching—until it settled on Eryndor.
When their eyes met, Eryndor froze. The stranger's gaze pierced straight through him, stripping away flesh, bone, and pretense. For a heartbeat, Eryndor felt as though he were back in the Astral Spire, judged by gods themselves.
Later that night, as the village slept, the stranger approached him beneath the stars.
"You feel it too, don't you?" His voice was quiet, yet carried weight. "The chains of heaven tightening."
Eryndor's throat went dry. "Who… are you?"
The man lowered his hood. His hair was silver, his eyes a storm of shifting light. Not human. Not fully.
"My name is Aethros," he said. "Once, I served the Pantheon. Now, I serve only Balance."
The name stirred something in Eryndor's buried memories—a faint echo of a servant who had once guarded the gateways between realms.
"You…" Eryndor whispered. "…you were there. When I fell."
Aethros nodded slowly. "I saw you shatter. I saw your divinity scattered. And now, I see it stirring again within you."
Eryndor's fists clenched. "Then you know they'll come for me."
"That is why I am here." Aethros stepped closer, lowering his staff. "The Pantheon is divided. Some will hunt you. Some will protect you. But all will test you. You cannot remain hidden in this village any longer. If you do, the gods will burn it to ash just to claim you."
Eryndor's chest tightened. Leave? The thought was unbearable—his family, his home, the first true warmth he had ever known. Yet deep down, he knew Aethros spoke truth.
"Then what should I do?" he asked, voice low.
Aethros' eyes gleamed with both sorrow and pride. "Learn. Grow. Claim the fragments of yourself scattered through this world. Only then will you be strong enough to defy them. Only then will Balance rise again."
The stars above flared, as if in agreement. And in that moment, Eryndor felt it—a path opening before him, dangerous and endless.
His mortal life had ended the night the crystal shattered. Now began something far greater.