The Fallen God's Redemption

Chapter 11: A Little Divine

As Atheon and I descended farther, the road got smaller; the shadows pressed near, alive with a subtle hum of power tingling against my skin. Every stride brought us into a world where light and darkness entwined, an old site seeming to pulse with forgotten vitality, the weight of divine force hanging in the air.

Atheon fixed his eyes ahead, his countenance unreadable, but I could feel the strain in his posture-that which betrayed his own discomfort. Though he was careful here, I had seen him fight innumerable conflicts. And that caused me mistrust as well.

The shadows moved, and I glimpsed something glistening in the darkness-a faint glow throbbing with delicate, rhythmic light. I closed my eyes, concentrated on the source, and as we approached the item became clear.

Unlike anything I had ever seen, this was a relic.

Suspended in midair, it seemed as an orb, wrapped in a shell of shimmering light, its surface marked with run-through, seemingly shifting and changing marks that never settled into a single form. Its strong, ancient energy permeated the air with a raw, primordial force that caused my pulse to speed.

Atheon hesitated, staring at the relic and a flutter of identification appeared in his eyes. "This... this is a fragment of the divine," he said, nearly respectfully. "It vanished, buried when the worlds changed. None mortal should have ever come across.

Feeling the draw of the relic, I gazed at it and considered the promise of power that was both seductive and terrible. "What does it accomplish?"

Atheon shook his head, his face deepening. "It carries memories of the divine worlds, shards of our former life, the decisions we took. To touch it, to claim it would mean giving up bits of your past. Parts of you.

As I considered his comments, a cold passed through me. Experiences. This relic brought back memories of the god I had been before all had altered. To access that power, to recover the strength it provided, I would have to give up bits of myself-pieces of my identity that had molded me.

"It's a dangerous temptation, Kaelan," Atheon stated, sounding cautions. Few have been ready to pay the hefty cost associated with the power it provides.

I inhaled deeply, his comments weighting down on me. The relic seemed to be calling me, its promise of strength appealing. But I also understood that every piece of memory I turned over would mean losing a bit of the guy I had grown to be.

But Lyra's picture emerged in my head, her voice resounding there like a reminder of the vow I had promised. I would give whatever sacrifices were required to save her, to guard her.

My voice firm, "Tell me, how does it work?"

Atheon hesitated, staring at the relic as though he was reluctant to say. At last, though, he sighed, sounding as though he were resigned. "You have to present a memory, a bit of your existence as a god, to claim the relic. One memory of who you once was. The relic will take in it and return power to you. Kaelan, nevertheless, know this: the memories it requires are lost always.

His words sank in me, a reminder of the stakes and the price ahead of me. But I could sense the weight of the relic, the need for strength, for power, pushing down on me, burning resolution through the uncertainty.

My voice sharp, "If that's what it takes," I said, "then I will do it."

Approaching the relic, I stretched forward and felt the strength of its energy pulsing under my fingers. Like the touch of a far-off recollection, a sensation of familiarity that aroused something deep inside my spirit, a subtle warmth crept across me.

Then the relic pulsed, a burst of light filling the air, and a memory rose forth from under my awareness.

It was a recollection of my first days as a god, one in which I had stood on the brink of a battlefield observing as my foes dropped before me, my heart ablaze with the excitement of success, the pride of strength.

That power, the conviction that had previously characterized me, the belief that I was invincible, untouchable, felt weight. But I could also taste the coldness, the detachment that accompanied it, a sense of solitude that had developed with every triumph or success.

The memory was mixed, a remembrance of a life felt far-off, almost alien. Still, it remained a remnant of who I had once been. It was part of me.

"Are you clear, Kaelan?" The solemn warning in Atheon's voice sliced through my mind. Once you give it over, there is no turning back.

I met his look, sensing the weight of the decision and the intensity of the sacrifice. Still, my will was unwavering.

My voice firm, "I am certain."

I closed my eyes, let the recollection slip from my head, felt it drift away, a hollow hole where once there had been confidence, pride, power.

The relic pulsed, absorbing the memory, its light getting brighter, enveloping me with a burst of energy that wrapped about me, filling me with a strength both known and alien.

For a time I could feel the weight of my godhood once more, the raw, relentless power that had once been mine, tempered now by the bits of my humanity, the decisions I had taken.

The energy settled inside me, a peaceful, steady presence pulsating in sync with my heartbeat, grounding me, reminding me of the road I had chosen.

Still, I could sense the loss, the little pang of the memory I had given, a reminder of the price of this road, of the sacrifices ahead even as the power took root.

Atheon studied me, his eyes full of a subdued respect and a sobering awareness. "You are stronger than I gave you credit for, Kaelan," he replied, sounding somewhat in awe. Few would have the bravery to offer such a sacrifice.

I nodded, the weight of his words settling over me, a reminder of the road I had chosen, the strength that lay inside me, tempered by goal.

Before I could reply, though, a voice emerged from the darkness, mocking amusement that chilled my spine.

" sacrifice?" Fear? Courage? The voice snorted, laden with contempt. Though you speak of honor, of purpose, you are nothing more than a fallen god clinging to delusions.

The shadows moved, and a black-clad person emerged from the shadows, staring with a merciless gratification.

Aramis was it.

He stared at me, his glance a mix of contempt and laughter, a memory of the bitterness, the betrayal that had previously pulled us apart.

With a contemptuous tone, he said, "So you have come back to grab at the shards of a power you dropped." But tell me, Kealan-do you really believe you are deserving of it?

I looked back at him and felt the resentment, a memory of every hurt, every betrayal rising inside me. But I willed myself to stay cool, to hang onto the power I had taken back, the goal that had driven me here.

"You know nothing of my purpose, Aramis," I murmured, my voice firm and full of a quiet resolve. Here I am for something more than just power.

He chuckled, a chilly, contemptuous sound echoing across the night. "better?" Kaelan, nothing more great than power. And you are a moron to think differently.

He retreated with that, his body melting into shadows and his laughter still hanging in the air, a warning of the gloom still to come.

I inhaled deeply, steadying myself, felt the weight of his comments descending, a reminder of the road I had chosen, the sacrifices I had made.

Still, my will was unwavering. I would bear whatever challenges lay ahead and follow whatever sacrifices were asked for.

about Lyra. For the promise I promised.

The shadows grew thicker as we kept along the road, the darkness pushing near, alive with a sense of expectation, a reminder of the challenges that remained ahead, the power I would need to confront them.