Chapter 8 – The Envoy of Dawn
The air in Breya shifted.
For days, the village had lived in uneasy quiet, the memory of the wolf attack slowly fading. But one morning, as the sun rose bright and clear, a figure approached along the mountain road—cloaked in white and gold, her stride graceful, her presence undeniable.
The villagers stopped what they were doing. Farmers left their tools in the fields. Mothers clutched their children. Even the elder, usually calm, rushed to the gate with trembling hands.
"Who… who is she?" someone whispered.
The woman's hood fell back, revealing hair like threads of sunlight, eyes burning like molten gold. She carried no weapon, yet every villager felt it—the weight of divinity in mortal form.
"I am Lysera," she said, her voice carrying like a hymn. "Envoy of the Goddess of Dawn. I seek the boy called Eryndor."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. All eyes turned toward him.
---
Eryndor's heart hammered. Aethros, who had been waiting in the shadows nearby, gripped his staff tightly. His eyes flicked to Eryndor in warning.
"Be cautious. She is not mortal. She will not be fooled."
The elder tried to step forward. "Honored envoy, our village is humble. Surely you—"
Lysera raised a hand, and the elder fell silent. Not harshly, but as though her very presence demanded obedience. She turned her gaze directly on Eryndor.
"You," she said softly. "Come with me."
Eryndor felt the stares of the entire village press upon him. His foster mother clutched her husband's arm, terror written across her face. He wanted to protect them, to shield them from this divine gaze—but he knew running was impossible.
He stepped forward.
---
Outside the village, Lysera led him to a clearing bathed in sunlight. Birds perched silently in the trees, as though awaiting judgment.
"You carry something that does not belong to this world," Lysera said. "When you touched the crystal, the heavens themselves trembled. The Pantheon knows. Some fear you. Some… hope for you. I have been sent to decide which is right."
Her hand lifted. Golden light gathered in her palm, forming a radiant spear.
Eryndor's fists clenched. "So this is a test."
Lysera's eyes softened, though her weapon did not waver. "Yes. If you are Balance reborn, then prove it. Show me you are not the chaos they fear."
The ground trembled as divine light clashed with the silver glow rising from Eryndor's hands. Mortal or not, he could no longer hide what he was.
The boy who had once been a god now stood in defiance of heaven's judgment.