For as long as mortals had existed, they had whispered myths of gods, of their invincibility, their righteousness, their unwavering dominion over the realms. But the truth was far less comforting. Gods were not indestructible. They were not the pure, all-knowing beings that poets and priests made them out to be. No, they were fragile in ways humans could never fathom. And the key to their destruction was forged long before mortals had ever walked the earth.
There was a weapon. A blade so sharp, so powerful, that it could slice through the thin veil between realms and snuff out the existence of any immortal. The gods had forged it to guard the weaker creation, humans, a failsafe meant to be wielded only in the direst of circumstances. But ten thousand years ago, when Deroki was sent to retrieve it, no one had foreseen the chaos that would follow. No one had imagined that the very weapon meant to protect the gods and humans would be turned against them.
He had been stopped then, cursed by the gods, stripped of his powers, forced into exile. But they would not stop him now. Not this time. Now, he was no longer driven by love. Now, he was fueled by hatred that had simmered in him for centuries, by a vengeance that had fermented into something far more potent than mere rage.
A voice cut through his thoughts.
"Your Majesty." One of the guards stood before him, rigid and cautious. "A letter has arrived from Nifarat. The deliverer insists on giving it to you personally."
Deroki's eyes flickered toward the entrance. He could feel the see of the messenger, waiting just beyond the threshold, the weight of his purpose pressing against the air like a tangible force.
"Send him in," he commanded.
A moment later, a figure stepped forward, a man clad in the dark robes of King Marcella's faction. He may have hidden his identity but Deroki knew exactly who he was. Marcus, Marcella's own son, a fugitive just like Marcella..His face was shadowed, but his stance was poised, unwavering. He extended the sealed letter with both hands, waiting in silence as Deroki took it.
Breaking the seal, Deroki unfolded the parchment, his sharp eyes scanning Marcella's jagged handwriting. The message was brief, yet it carried the weight of a decade's worth of planning.
"I have acquired the weapon. It is now in the possession of a truth-bearer, whom I have imprisoned. The damned girl says if anyone except she tries to touch it would cause it to disappear. So I cannot confirm whether it is what you seek. You will have to see for yourself. Once you confirm, I want your word. Your orders to declare war. The next moon, I strike. Decide quickly."
Deroki exhaled through his nose, the air in his chamber thick with the scent of burning incense and candle wax. So Marcella had done it. Against all odds, he had found it. If the truth-bearer was able to touch it, there was no doubt, it was the real thing.
Without hesitation, Deroki rose, discarding the letter onto a nearby table.
"Prepare my horses. We leave for Nifarat."
***
The prison stank of damp stone and human misery. The truth-bearer was held in the lowest chamber of Marcella's keep, shackled with chains that glowed faintly with old magic. The girl, young, barely past twenty, raised her head as Deroki entered, her eyes burning with hatred.
"You," she spat.
Deroki tilted his head, amused. "Yes, me."
The guards beside him flinched, sensing the crackle of magic in the air as the woman clenched her fists. But the chains held firm.
"You've want to kill me?" she snarled. "Go on, then, kill me like you killed my mother. Like you killed all of my people. But I promise you, we will see your end, even if it's from the grave."
Deroki chuckled, stepping closer. "So it was your mother who tried to stab me last winter."
The woman bared her teeth like a wounded animal. "You took everything from us," she hissed. "Does it give you pleasure to see our people suffer?"
Deroki's lips curled into a slow, mirthless smile. "I might have a masochritic streak."
"You laugh..." she seethed, pulling at her chains. "You find it amusing that you wiped out an entire race...but you will suffer. You cry and you will beg and no one will come to your aid."
Deroki crouched before her, meeting her fury with cold indifference. "I have suffered, Love. Suffered more than you can ever imagine..." he said smoothly. "But it changes nothing. Not for you. Not for me."
The woman lunged at Deroki, her chains rattling violently. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her fury palpable, but Deroki only exhaled in amusement.
Then, without effort, he materialized through the iron bars of her cell. The air crackled around him, his presence bending reality itself. The woman's eyes widened in horror as he stepped toward her, his gaze locked on the weapon clutched desperately in her hands.
It shimmered in the dim torchlight, its surface shifting as though it was alive, resisting his presence. The moment his fingers wrapped around the hilt, searing heat shot through his palm, the magic within it fizzing and burning against his skin. He did not flinch. Instead, he smirked. So it was real.
The woman tried to tighten her grip, tried to wrest it back from him, but she was no match. Deroki pried it from her effortlessly, like a god plucking a toy from a child's grasp. She screamed, her voice raw with hatred and helplessness, but he barely acknowledged it.
Deroki turned to Marcella, who had been watching from outside the cell, his usually arrogant demeanor replaced by something rare, shock. His fingers twitched against his sides, his wide eyes reflecting the glow of the weapon.
"You, " Marcella exhaled, leaning forward slightly. "You actually took it."
Deroki smirked, the weapon still sizzling in his grasp. "Were you doubting me?"
Marcella swallowed, regaining his composure. "Not doubting. Just... confused."
Deroki turned the weapon over in his hands, feeling the sheer weight of its power humming beneath his skin. He had what he came for. He had what they had once stolen from him.
"Gods can touch the weapon but at the cost of hurting themselves. Using it could kill them."
"Then why..."
"What I am going to do with this weapon is not your concern. Now...kill her," he ordered turning to the guards. "She has served her purpose."
As he turned to leave, her scream echoed behind him. But he didn't look back.
"Well?" Marcella asked. "We had a deal?"
Deroki nodded once. "Prepare your men, King Marcella. The war begins on the next moon."