The Fallen God's Redemption

Chapter 8: Slashes of Authority

The road ahead passed among trees so thick the sun hardly could see through the canopy. Along with me, shadows whispered promises and threats, memories of every decision, every regret weighing on my heart. Still, my determination was unquestionable. I would go to restore my power and guard Lyra from whatever this realm contained.

My steps were heavier as I moved; the air thickened with an odd force. Then, in the shadows, a weak gleam emerged ahead, like a mirage. My pulse racing, I accelerated to see what it was-a piece of my old might.

It floated in the air, a little shard of light throbbing with a known energy encircled by tendrils of darkness. A recollection unbidden and strong surfaced as I got closer.

That was a moment from my days serving as the god of conflict. On a battlefield covered with blood, my adversaries broken and vanquished before me. Their faces flashed before me, distorted with anguish and terror, traces of life I had taken without compassion. The memory was visceral, violent, a reminder of the brutality I had before defined me.

I stopped, my fingers hanging over the piece and the weight of the memory whirling through my head. I would have to face the atrocities I had caused as well as the decisions I had taken without second thought in order to recover this side of me.

"Are you ready to welcome who you were?" A voice low and sarcastic emerged from the darkness.

I closed my eyes, inhaled steadily. This was the cost of electricity-the cost of the strength I had once so carelessly used. And so be it if recovering that strength meant confronting the worst aspects of my past.

I inhaled deeply and then stretched out, fingers sealing around the fragment. Pain shot through me, acute and merciless, the moment I touched it as the memories played out in rich clarity.

My blade slick with blood, my eyes icy as I observed the damage around me, I was back on the battlefield. My foes were all over the ground, their faces twisted in agony and horror. Their hate and animosity felt to me like a physical force down on me, a reminder of the lives I had destroyed in search of dominance.

One man emerged from the fog of the recollection, his face marked with treachery and his eyes ablaze with a bitterness burning into my soul.

"You destroyed everything I loved," he yelled, his voice hoarse with rage. For what? Gloria? Strength?

The weight of his accusation pressed down on me, so I forced myself to meet his stare and face the terrible truth of my deeds. For the sake of a reign I had finally given up, I had taken his life, his future, his hopes.

I would not let the memory break me though. I will not let the past define me; I had chosen a new road-a road of atonement.

"I cannot undo what I have done," I answered, my voice calm and full of a determination burning through the hurt. I won let such decisions constrain me though. I shall use this authority for atonement rather than conquest.

The figure's eyes softened, a flutter of understanding crossed his face, then he vanished, retreating back into the darkness, leaving me alone with the sloshy piece of power in hand.

Fierce and relentless, the energy flowed through me like a recollection of the strength I had previously possessed. But it was moderated today, counterbalanced by the memories I held, the weight of the life I had lived.

I sensed a change, a clarity that broke through the gloom as the force sank within me. I was no more the guy I had grown to be; I was not the god I once was. I was something in between, a concoction of force and restraint, goal and power.

Still, the road was not quite finished.

Turning ready to walk on, I discovered another part flickering dimly far away. One surged with a different energy-a darker, colder power that chilled my spine. Promising strength, it called to me but at a cost I could sense squeezing against my spirit.

I walked carefully, every movement weighted with the weight of my past, of the decisions that had brought me here. Another recollection clear and relentless burst forward as I groped for the splinter.

This was a treachery this time.

Standing over an ally, someone who had trusted me and battled at my side, I saw myself. Shock distorted his face as I knocked him down-a deliberate action that had guaranteed my triumph. The memory was cold, calculating, a reminder of the depths I had once been ready to stoop to in my quest of authority.

His expression, full of treachery, stayed with me, searing in my head a reminder of the price of my ambition.

With the agony of the memories running through me, a penalty for my own cruelty and ruthlessness, I closed my fists.

Are you ready to welcome this side of yourself? Once more, the voice taunting, unrelenting. "You have to accept the blood on your hands, the lives you stole without compassion, to recover this power."

I inhaled deeply, steadying myself. The weight of my past tugging at me, demanding that I face the truth of who I had been, I could feel the gloom closing in.

But I had promised Lyra-a promise to be better, to employ my strength not for conquering but for defense.

My voice almost above a whisper, I said, "I am willing." "But not for dominance. Regarding her.

With that, I grabbed the fragment-a reminder of the savagery I had previously used-the cold energy scorching into my skin. The suffering was acute, relentless, a payback for the life I had lived and the betrayal I had committed.

I did, though, bear the cost, the weight of my decisions, the darkness that had once defined me.

The agony of my history, the memories I carried, balanced the surge of strength I experienced as the energy settled within me-a power both known and foreign.

Though the road ahead was dark and unforgiving, I continued forward, each step bursting with a fresh sense of direction and a will that burned across the night.

Then just ahead, I spotted her-a figure covered in shadows, her face obscured but her presence obvious.

Nyx.

She studied me, her eyes evaluating, her face unreadable. As if she had been waiting for this, there was a flutter of something in her eyes-a spark of laughter, of gratification.

"You have reclaimed bits of your power," she remarked, her voice cool, steady, tinged with a disconcerting gratification. "The road to full strength is still long, and the challenges ahead will demand more than you have yet given."

I looked at her and felt the weight of her words-the silent challenge buried under them. "What from me, Nyx, do you want? You are aiding me for what reason?

She grinned, a cold, calculated look that chilled my spine. "Kaelan, my motives are personal. But know this: every piece you recover puts you closer to the deity you once was-one who knew no compassion, no constraint. Are you ready for the expenses of that power?

I inhaled steadyingly; the recollections of the pieces remained vivid, the weight of my prior decisions pressing on me. Still, my determination was unflappable.

"For Lyra," I murmured, my voice consistent and full of a passion that burned across the night. "I will face whatever challenges wait."

Nyx's smile grew, a flutter of laughter in her eyes. "Your next trial then will wait in the world of shadows. There you will find what you are looking for only if you are ready to give everything up.

She turned with those words, vanished into the darkness, leaving me alone once more, the weight of her warning weight in my thoughts.

The road ahead was black, relentless, a test requiring more than just will-more than strength-more than determination.

Nonetheless, I was ready.

Whatever lied ahead, regardless of cost, I would face. For Lyra, for atonement, for the man she had selected to be her mate.