The Fallen God's Redemption

The quiet seemed alive, pressing in from all sides as though the very air lamented my absence from the throne I once occupied. Once, my name was pronounced with wonder, with a type of respect bordering on terror. Kaelan, the god of war, the relentless, unbroken. And now-nothing. I followed my palm over the stone seat, its edges polished from the weight of a thousand successes and many losses. My place of power, refuge, and jail had been this throne. For others outside these boundaries, it had been a symbol-a promise of might. For me, it was a place that brought back the darkness I had previously so gladly welcomed, shadows that today seemed to mock me. The throne was empty. I am empty. I left it behind for love, a foolish idea maybe for gods like myself. Lyra, though, was unique. She was force, not just a mortal. She sparked something within of me that I couldn't identify but yet couldn't fight. And I dropped everything, including this throne, to be by her side when she phoned. Now, though, as I stood before it once more, I could see the consequence of my decision carved in every shadow thrown on the stone. My love, my decisions, my humanity had damaged me; I was mortal-bound, not the indestructible god. Once mine by right, it had been snatched from me and turned into a memory of loss. "Fallen god," the whispers rang forth. Though they appeared to arise from the very stone under my feet, they came from nowhere. umbled. Though I forced myself to swallow the word tasted sour on my mouth. Neither was the authority this throne represented nor my own throne. That power disappeared-stripped from me the day I turned away from it. I inhaled deeply, stuffing the chilly, stale air of the throne room into my lungs. Once, with nothing more than a thought, I could give this place life. These shadows now closed in, apathetic, reminding me of what I had lost and maybe what I deserved to lose. My ideas drifted toward Lyra. Her face-sharp but friendly-a paradox that had undone me. I thought of her hand in mine, the way she gazed at me with a trust that transcended any knife. I recalled the vow I gave her-that I would guard her, no matter how much it would cost. That pledge already weighed heavily on me. Its anguish pressed like a vice in my chest. I had abandoned her to protect her from the gods' insatiable quest of power and control. Trusting our love would be sufficient to keep her concealed and safe, I had left her in the mortal domain. But it wasn't quite. And she wasn't. I could sense it, dimly, as though it were a whisper on the wind-a cry from Lyra, faint but clear, repeating in my soul. She was stretching out to find me. But why, though? And what had happened to her? An unanticipated, fierce and unrelenting flash of wrath shot through me. Whoever had touched her, would pay to damage the one thing I had left in this life. It made no difference mortal, god. I would locate them and release a fury they could not have imagined. But that was the issue-I was no more the god of wrath. I was another thing entirely. fatal. Not strong. Restricted by my own decisions. The power I used felt like a dream I could hardly believe I had lived, a far-off recollection. Still, I could sense a sliver of that power, like a spark just waiting to be lit, barely flickering in the shadows. Walksteps. They shattered the quiet that had engulfed me by echoing down the hall. Even in my godhood, this habit-drawing back instinctively and into the shadows-had never entirely left me. I watched as a towering, cloaked man moved with a grace that unnervedly familiar. He was tall. "Kaelan," a voice whispered, deep and resonant, loaded with an unstated challenge. "It's been a while." The man moved forward, and I caught a glimpse of his face-an old friend turned rival-whose look combined sympathy with pleasure. Arameis. Now claiming my kingdom in my absence, my former friend covered in power once mine. "Did you come to gloat?" I questioned, voice low, struggling to keep the resentment from leaking through. Aramis laughed gently, a sound that aggravated my already raw sensitivity. " Old friend, you misinterpret me. I come to let you know. Since you left things have changed. Betrayal is not something the gods enjoy. His comments hung in the air, a warning and a taunting all at one. I closed my hands, the weight of my lost strength smothering, teasing, choking me. I spat, rushing forward, barely resisting the want to split him apart with my bare hands. You know nothing of betrayal. "And you have forgotten who I am if you momentarily believe I would ever bend to your will." Aramis shook his head, eyes shining with something like sympathy. "Kaelan, you are destined to die. All the strength you believe you still possess is simply shadows. And shadows, he said sarcastically, "are easily crushed." He drew in closer, lowering his voice till his words almost whispered. Lyra seems safe to you? Would you say your love was sufficient to protect her from the fallout from your fall? A cold crawled along my back. "What do you know of her? Stepping back with a knowing look, he said, "Oh, I know enough." " Enough to tell you she has been waiting for you in a place your mortal heart could not reach. If you still have the guts, though, you could try. The taunting was clear-cut, a hook designed to propel me on. Aramis knew she would be irresistible to save. And he understood that I was nothing more than a pawn in his game when I was frail. Feeling a spark of my previous power flickering to life inside me, I stepped forward. Tell me Aramis, where she is. Alternatively meet the fury you believe I have lost. His laughing permeated the vacant hall, a sound that tormented my will. Oh, you will see her shortly enough. First, he replied, his eyes hardening, "you will have to negotiate the shadows." Your erstwhile friends have no affection for dead gods. He turned, his form dissolving into the darkness, leaving me by myself in the solitude of the royal chamber once more. But this time the quiet had deliberate charge. Now the hunt would start; he had handed me the first clue. Finding supporters, or at least people with justification to oppose Aramis's rule, was my first clear-cut move. And I would start among the shadows.