The world was quiet in the worst way possible.
Aurel stood in the ruins of the abandoned temple, dust swirling through the moonlight like ashes from a dead star. His breath trembled, and the air around him rippled—raw divinity leaking through cracks he could no longer control.
He wasn't supposed to remember.
He wasn't supposed to know.
But now he did.
He felt it in his veins—like a forgotten flame waking inside him. Every heartbeat echoed with memories, broken and distorted, of a throne floating above the worlds… of a crown made of light and screams… and of a war that ended because of him.
He didn't know if he was the hero or the catastrophe.
He wasn't even sure which one he feared more.
Aurel lowered his palms, staring at them like they belonged to somebody else. Minutes ago, he had stopped an attack without thought—energy erupting from him instinctively, ripping apart the shadowed beast that ambushed him and Lysandra. She was still coughing behind him, recovering from the shockwave.
"Aurel…" she whispered.
He didn't turn.
He couldn't.
She sounded terrified—not of the monster that attacked them…
…but of him.
Lysandra slowly got to her feet, clutching her wounded arm. "That… that power. You didn't tell me you could—"
"I didn't know," Aurel replied, voice so soft it barely existed.
She took a hesitant step closer. "Then tell me what you remembered."
He closed his eyes.
The world leaned in, listening.
He remembered hundreds bowing. He remembered storms obeying. He remembered worlds burning because he asked them to.
He remembered being worshipped. He remembered a name the universe once chanted—
—but the memory slammed shut like a door, too heavy and too bright.
"Aurel!" Lysandra reached out to steady him as he swayed.
He pulled away instantly.
Her expression cracked.
"I'm not leaving you," she said firmly. "Whatever you saw, whatever you were—"
"You don't understand," he snapped. "If I was responsible for everything that happened to this world… if the ruins, the chaos, the disappearance of the old gods—if all of it leads back to me—"
"You think abandoning us now will fix it?"
Silence.
Lysandra's voice softened, breaking. "You're not alone. Stop acting like you are."
Aurel stayed silent, but she noticed the tremor in his hands.
He wasn't scared of the memory.
He was scared of what came next.
Before either of them could speak again, a sound echoed from the corridors beyond: soft footsteps—confident and unhurried.
Not a beast.
Not a civilian.
Someone who knew they would be found.
Aurel and Lysandra turned together as a figure stepped into the moonlight—a man draped in a dark cloak, face hidden behind a white mask marked by a single golden slash.
He clapped, slow and mocking.
"So the fallen god remembers," the stranger mused. "How nostalgic."
Aurel froze.
The voice was familiar.
Not from this life—but from the echo of who he used to be.
The masked man tilted his head, studying Aurel like a scientist observing a fragile specimen.
"You always were dramatic," he chuckled. "Destroy everything, then panic when you realize it. You haven't changed."
Lysandra positioned herself protectively in front of Aurel. "Who are you?"
"Oh, I'm the one who knows exactly what Aurel is," the man said casually. "And more importantly—what he will become."
Aurel forced the words out. "Take off the mask."
The man paused… then did.
The moonlight caught his face.
Lysandra gasped. Aurel stepped back like struck.
It was Arion.
No—
Not Arion.
Not Aurel's adoptive friend.
It was Arion's face… but not his eyes.
This Arion was older. Sharper. Tainted by something dark. And the mark across his left eye—golden and glowing—burned like a seal of power.
Aurel whispered, "But… you died."
The man smirked. "In your timeline, I did."
Aurel's blood ran cold.
Timeline.
He understood instantly.
The world shifted around his thoughts—memories, possibilities and impossibilities colliding. This Arion wasn't from the present.
He was from the worst possible future.
Lysandra looked between them, confused and terrified. "Timeline? Future? Someone explain!"
Aurel barely managed to speak, voice hoarse. "He's me. My best friend. From another world. Another… future."
The future Arion nodded. "A future where your awakening destroyed everything."
Lysandra shook her head. "No. No, Aurel isn't—"
"Oh, he is." Arion smiled, almost tender. "He is exactly as dangerous as he fears. I watched him lose himself. I watched him ascend. I watched him become the thing everyone whispered about in terror. The god who blesses with one hand…" He raised his own hand, spreading fingers like claws. "…and erases existence with the other."
Aurel's pulse hammered in his ears.
The prophecy.
The throne of silence.
The name the world had buried.
It all made sense.
Arion walked forward and whispered in Aurel's ear:
"You aren't the savior of this world."
"You are its apocalypse."
Aurel stumbled back, breath collapsing.
This wasn't a warning.
It was a sentence.
Lysandra stepped in front of Aurel again, eyes burning. "Then why are you here? To stop him? Kill him?"
Arion laughed—a sound without warmth. "Kill him? No. I need him alive. He becomes useful later."
Aurel looked up sharply, anger replacing fear. "Useful for what?"
Arion's gaze deepened. "There is a war coming—bigger than gods, bigger than timelines, bigger than fate. And the only version of you who wins… is the version that loses everything."
Aurel froze.
Arion continued, voice threaded with cruelty and affection both. "So I'm here to help you. To guide you into who you're meant to be."
Lysandra spat, "We don't need your help."
Arion's smile died.
"It isn't optional."
The air exploded.
A shockwave hurled Lysandra backward into a stone pillar. She collapsed, stunned and bleeding. Aurel screamed her name and ran toward her, but invisible chains lashed around him, pinning him to the ground like gravity itself had grown claws.
Arion's magic was merciless.
"You think strength is your problem?" Arion whispered. "No, Aurel. Attachment is."
He looked at Lysandra the way someone looks at a loose thread.
A single tug—and everything unravels.
Aurel roared, power tearing through his restraints, the air burning with divine energy. Arion only watched with fascination, like a proud scientist admiring a weapon in progress.
"That's it," Arion encouraged. "Break. Rage. Awaken."
Aurel charged.
The walls shook.
Magic cracked the ground.
The temple trembled like it would collapse.
But Arion didn't block, didn't fight.
He vanished just as Aurel's attack scorched the floor.
His voice echoed in the collapsing chamber, calm and terrifying:
"I'll be waiting at the citadel of the First Light. When you're ready to become the god you were meant to be… come and find me."
The temple shattered.
Aurel grabbed Lysandra and shielded her as debris crashed around them. When the dust settled, Arion was gone—and only silence remained.
Lysandra weakly opened her eyes. "Aurel… what did he mean…"
Aurel didn't answer.
He couldn't.
Because the truth was now undeniable.
If Arion was right…
then every step Aurel took toward unlocking his power…
…was also a step toward destroying the world.
He held Lysandra closer—not because she needed him, but because he needed her.
But the realization hit him like a blade:
To protect her,
to protect everyone he cared about…
He might have to walk his path alone.
The storm inside him whispered a terrifying promise:
Power always demands a price.
And deep down, Aurel already knew what his price would be.
The wind howled through the broken temple.
The chapter ended not with a question…
…but with a choice.
One that would break Aurel either way.