The Fallen God's Redemption

Chapter 3: The Offer of Nyx

Rising from the Hall of Shadows felt like breaking through the surface of water following almost drowning. Every life I had lived, every broken promise, every sorrow, hung to me like second skin. As the shadows vanished, my vision swirled and I staggered and gasped. I had confronted every face, every charge, every reminder of the authority I previously so carelessly possessed.

And then I saw her-Nyx-standing in the center of the corridor, her eyes opaque. In the low light, shadows curled around her like living tendrils moved and woven. She had watched my trial, maybe enjoying the suffering.

Her visage softened, only momentarily, then reverted to its typical hardness. "Not every god passes the Hall of Shadows," she said. "I was not sure you would."

Wiping my forehead, I pushed back the harsh taste in my lips. You undervalue me, Nyx.

"Perhaps," she said, tilting her head. "Or perhaps I know you better than you know yourself. That trial would have never been survived by the deity you were. Pride governed the deity you were, not intent.

Her comments touched something deep in me. She pointed out the right thing. The Kaelan of old would have savored the authority, disregarded the repercussions, turned away from the life he had cut short. But I had felt every one of them this time.

"What is it you desire, Nyx?" My voice more sharp than I meant, I asked. I have gone through your trial. What next?

She looked at me, her eye evaluating. "Strength by itself won't save Lyra," she remarked, a sliver of pity tumbling through her otherwise apathy. "And if you're to keep this road open, there's something you need even though you passed the first trial."

Her comments were vague, but I could not overlook the gleam in her eyes-a glint suggesting something more.

"What is it?," asks Feeling the stir of inquiry and mistrust, I questioned.

Nyx reached out with a palm turned upside-down. Her skin emitted a weak glow that formed in the air a delicate, shimmering form. Watching, the glow took shape-an old, complex sword floating just above her palm. Made in darkness, this weapon was unlike anything I had seen; it possessed veins of light that pulsed weakly, like the pulse of some long-dormant organism.

Her voice almost above a murmur, she said, "This is a fragment of your former self, a piece of the god you left behind."

My pulse racing, I fixed my eye on the blade. Its force felt to me even from a distance; it spoke to something within of me like an old friend.

"It's... mine?." On my tongue, the words seemed unusual. This weapon, this fragment, belonged to me-a component I had believed gone permanently.

Nyx nodded, but her gaze betrayed some doubt. Yes, it belongs to you. Still, using it has costs. The blade is anchored to the brutal, relentless force of war-the god you once were. To use it is to rouse that part of you, to run the danger of turning into the very thing that drove you to disaster.

I hesitated, her words weighting down on my shoulders. I had battled so hard to part from that side of me. The deity I knew was He was merciless, nonfeeling, a force devoid of pity. And I realized that carrying that blade meant allowing that darkness to once more surround me.

"Would it enable me to save Lyra?" My heart racing, my voice steady inquired.

She said, "It will give you strength," but also "bring you closer to the edge of what you once were." At the price of your humanity, you will be faster, more forceful. You run more danger losing yourself the more you use it.

The decision stayed with you, weighty and relentless. The weight of it was weighing down on me, the lure of power and the fear of what it might set off inside of me. But in my head, Lyra's face emerged, her voice screaming to me from the recess of my recollection.

I muttered, stretching out toward the blade, "then I accept if this is what it takes."

Raw and relentless, the moment my palm locked around the hilt sent a wave of electricity through me. My senses sharpened, my strength returned, and for the first time since my fall I felt the deity I once was. But there was also a dark, boiling anger that swelled out from within, a recollection of the cruelty I had once so readily used.

Closing my eyes, I battled to control my breathing and hold the force threatening to overwhelm me. As if it were a living thing, the blade hummed in my grasp and its energy pulsed in time with my heartbeat.

Nyx cautioned, "Careful, Kaelan," her eyes fierce. "The weapon is a two-edged blade. Use it deliberately; else it will consume you.

I nodded, even though the blackness was pressing at the margins of my awareness. Whispers of strength, of vengeance, of a power no mortal could resist beckoned from the sword.

I inhaled deeply, sheathed the blade, drove the power back down, tamed it. Though I would use this authority on my terms, I had accepted it. Not as the god I once knew but rather as the man I had grown to be.

"where do I start?" I asked, staring back with fresh resolve.

She gave a chilly, knowing smile. "Your actual test lies in a secret temple. You have to pass the Realm of Night, a region few humans have survived in order to get there.

Though her comments had great weight, I was not afraid. Something savage, something that refused to cower, had been set ablaze by the power inside me, the blade at my side.

"I've crossed worse," I responded, a little rebellious note in my voice.

Nyx arched his eyebrow. "We'll see.," said She pointed to a shadowy archway that seemed to throb with an eerie gloom. "Beyond that chapter is The Realm of Night. You will encounter creatures born of shadow, phantoms from your past, and the mirror of your worst anxieties. You cannot claim what you want by ignoring them.

"Reflections," Feeling a twirl of discomfort, I asked. "What do you imply?"

Nyx had wicked amusement shining in her eyes. For Kaelan, "The Realm of Night is a mirror." It reveals not only the road ahead but also the bits of yourself you have buried, the bits you have denied. You will have to battle them all to survive.

I tightened my mouth as her words sank over me. The Realm of Night was more than just a place; it was a test, a furnace that would expose every sin, every regret, every basic loss.

But right now I couldn't turn back. Not with Lyra's life precariously the line.

Feeling the cool darkness penetrate into my bones, I moved toward the archway. The blade hummed at my side, its energy pulsating in sync with my heartbeat, grounding me, reminding me of the might I possessed.

I looked one more at Nyx, then moved ahead beyond the barrier into the Realm of Night.

A familiar, terrible voice rang in my head as the shadows consumed me-a voice twisted and wicked that I knew to be my own.

"Did you really believe you might flee me, Kaelan?"

Gritting my teeth, I grabbed the hilt of the blade and steeled myself against the blackness closing in all about. The next struggle waited, one of spirit as much as of strength.

And I would do it. Anything it would take, I would meet it all.