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The cold wind blew through the Phantom Wastes as Chirag, Siya, and Kuro made their way back from the Mirror Caves. Each step felt heavier than the last. Chirag wasn't just carrying Velmira's gift—he was carrying the weight of the future he had seen.
The vision still haunted him.
A version of himself that had lost everything… A version that destroyed instead of protected… A version without Siya.
He looked at her, walking beside him quietly, her eyes scanning the horizon. She was his anchor, his light. The thought of ever hurting her—even in some possible future—sent a chill down his spine.
Siya noticed his silence.
"You saw something in the mirror," she said softly. "Didn't you?"
Chirag nodded, not ready to speak it aloud. But he took her hand, and she squeezed his back.
"You won't become that," she said. "You're stronger than fate."
Chirag gave a small smile. "Only because I have you."
Kuro groaned from behind them. "Alright, lovebirds, keep walking. These wastelands are giving me the creeps. What's next, a rain of frogs?"
Siya chuckled. Even Chirag let out a breath of laughter. It felt good to smile—even just for a moment.
But that moment didn't last long.
As night fell, strange shadows moved through the mists. The air grew colder, heavier. The wind whispered in strange voices. Chirag stopped, his senses flaring.
"We're being followed," he said.
Kuro's hand went to his sword. "Figures. Peace never lasts."
They took shelter beneath a ruined archway, hidden in the broken bones of a forgotten city. Chirag lit a small flame—not too bright, just enough to keep them warm. Siya leaned against his shoulder, and Kuro stood guard.
The whispers grew louder as they sat there. Voices, low and broken, repeating Chirag's name.
"Do you hear that?" Siya whispered.
Chirag nodded. "It's not a language. It's… calling."
He stood slowly, eyes glowing faintly from the powers within him. "Stay here."
Before Siya could stop him, he stepped into the mist.
The shadows gathered around him, thick and pulsing like living smoke. But Chirag didn't flinch. He let the power of Velmira's gift flow through his mind, allowing him to sense more than just sight and sound.
Then he saw them—figures in the dark.
Not beasts. Not demons. Not even rulers.
Humans.
Their bodies were pale, their eyes empty. Like puppets without strings. Soulless.
One of them stepped forward, lips moving without sound, and then—suddenly—his mouth opened, and a different voice echoed out.
"Child of Fire… You burn too brightly."
Chirag's heart pounded. That voice—it wasn't human. It was divine.
A god was speaking through the dead.
"You gather power not meant for your kind. You wake those who should sleep. You dream of war… but war is not a dream. It is a curse."
Chirag raised his hand, fire forming in his palm. "Then come face me yourself. Stop sending puppets."
The figures vanished instantly, crumbling into dust.
Silence fell again. But Chirag knew it wouldn't last.
He returned to Siya and Kuro, eyes sharp.
"The gods are watching. Closer than before. They're scared."
"Good," Kuro said. "Let them be scared for once."
"We need to move quickly," Chirag said. "The next god—Zephon, the Wind Reaper. He was the god of storms and speed. He once ruled the skies before he refused the Council's orders. He vanished after the great war. Some say he still lives in the Tempest Peaks."
Siya frowned. "That mountain is cursed. No one returns from there."
Chirag met her eyes. "That's why we have to go."
The next morning, they began their journey to the north. The land grew steeper, the sky darker. Thunder rumbled in the distance, though there were no clouds. Trees bent unnaturally, leaning away from the mountains as if afraid.
As they approached the Tempest Peaks, the wind hit them like a wall. It howled with unnatural force, tearing at their cloaks and clothes. The sky above the mountains was a swirling vortex of black and violet clouds, flashing with silent lightning.
"This is more than weather," Siya said, her voice nearly lost in the wind. "It's alive."
They climbed slowly, step by step, against the raging wind. Kuro tied ropes around them to keep them together. Chirag lit a flame in his chest to stay warm, and Siya created a shield of shadow magic to protect their eyes.
When they reached the first ridge, a lightning bolt struck the ground in front of them—followed by a voice that echoed through the skies.
"Turn back."
Another bolt struck behind them.
"You are not welcome."
Chirag stepped forward. "Zephon! I seek your help!"
The wind roared louder, like a scream from the sky.
"You seek power. Like all others."
"No!" Chirag shouted. "I seek to stop the gods. They sent their beasts. They sent their warnings. They will come to destroy this world. I want to protect it. All of it. Even the humans."
There was silence.
Then a third bolt struck—this time, not at them, but beside them. A figure appeared in the light.
Zephon.
He looked nothing like a god. His body was lean and worn, like a traveler who had walked through endless storms. His eyes were silver lightning, and his cloak was made of wind itself.
"You speak boldly," Zephon said. "But boldness does not win wars. Why should I give you my gift?"
Chirag looked at him, steady. "Because the gods you once stood against are rising again. And you're hiding on a mountaintop while they prepare to destroy everything. Help me, and you can finish what you started."
Zephon studied him. "You have the eyes of a storm. And the soul of a flame."
Then he touched Chirag's chest.
The wind howled, wrapped around Chirag's body, and vanished into him. For a moment, Chirag felt weightless—like a part of the sky itself.
Zephon spoke one last time.
"Go now. But beware—the more power you gather, the more they will fear you. And one day, even your friends may wonder if they can still trust you."
Chirag bowed. "Let them wonder. I'll still protect them."
As the storm faded, the three of them looked at the road ahead.
Three gods down.
Three more to find.
The war was getting closer.
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