And the gods did not see.
Or perhaps, they simply did not care.
Because what is a god without devotion? And what is devotion, if not absolute sacrifice?
Soon only the rich and the poor were left—nothing in between. Feast or famine was all we knew.
During these hard times, the influence of the gods' sister grew—an almost forgotten afterthought—Vaelora the goddess of Balance, the First Flame, Mother of Stars and the Unyielding Light, returned from the void where lost gods fade. She rose like a Phoenix from the ashes, even more beautiful than she had ever been. Her powers grew, commensurate with the number of people adoring her. The ones who worshipped her were the lost ones, the poor and starving.
She tried to reason with her brothers, tried to reclaim the balance that had once ruled the lands. But her brothers didn't listen. They resented her for her growing powers, for that meant theirs were diminishing. Gods only have the powers mortals give them.
So Vaelora came to me. She sought the greatest warrior that had ever been and ever would be. Oh, what a glorious day that had been. I had just returned from a successful campaign in Khesara. My army was camped outside the great capitalof Orasis, Nemet-Xy, getting ready for the ceremonies the following day. Men were washing and scrubbing themselves of war, readying their armor until it would gleam under the sun. Nemet-Xy sent concubines to entertain the victorious army. The mood was light and on its way to a full, boisterous feast.
Nemet-Xy's grand priests sent more soldiers to watch the many prisoners we held, giving my men a chance to fully let loose and enjoy the fruits of our victory.
I left the camp with all its noise and smells behind. High Priest Raahet had invited me to his palace to ready myself for the glorious triumphal procession tomorrow, but I declined, like I declined all honors the high citizens of Orasis sought to bestow on me. I refused the palace they offered me, but I took the land, slaves, and house to give my mother and sisters a place to stay in comfort. Anything else, I rejected. I made no friends with the high citizens of Orasis. Neither their priests, nor their king and nobles. They regarded me with suspicion and only tolerated me because of my successes and because the army was loyal to me. They feared me for the same reasons.
My mother had warned me, but I had laughed at her. Nobody would dare assassinate me, for the wrath of my soldiers would be upon them without mercy. Everyone knew it.
Refusing any honors was the reason for my soldiers' unwavering loyalty. Riding into battle beside them—no different from the lowest among them— earned me their respect. I slept in the dirt, bled and sweated through every campaign, and fought at their side without exception. Always the first to rise and the last to rest, I led not from a throne, but from the front lines.
Any other time, I would have been right with them. Sharing the fire, the concubines and slaves. But not that night. An inner restlessness grabbed me just as I was about to sit down with Tavrek, my second in command, best friend, and brother in arms.
"That one," Tavrek pointed toward a blonde woman carrying a bladder of wine that seemed much too heavy for her.
I patted Tavrek's shoulder, "You enjoy her sweet juices, brother. I will join you later."
And with that, I left the raucous camp behind. I walked away from the fires, loud voices, and laughter until I reached the bottom of Mount Zayenna. The sky above was a sea of endless darkness, except for the moon, which hung at its center, a lone beacon casting its silver glow. Around it, a faint halo of light softened the void, but beyond that, the night remained an impenetrable black, untouched by its radiance. Trillions of stars shimmered in the distance, scattered like forgotten embers. No doubt, the priests could have traced their constellations with certainty, naming each one as they had for centuries. But I was no scholar—just a man beneath the vast unknown. I knew the name only of the star Vaelora, the one whose light guided me through the lands. She shone brightly, just like her name promised:The Unyielding Light.
Whatever power had dragged me here was beyond my understanding, but I didn't waste time questioning it. Faith was for weaker men. I had seen too much death, too much senseless slaughter, to believe in gods or fate. Yet, there she was—a vision both haunting and divine, the last thing I ever expected to witness. She stepped from the heart of the mountain, as if the earth itself had birthed her from its depths, sculpted her in secret, waiting for this moment. Moonlight kissed her skin, shadows clung to her like whispers, and for the first time in my life, I questioned whether gods truly walked among us. Me.
"Vaelora."
Though I had never laid eyes on her before, I knew exactly who she was. The knowledge was instinctive, ancient, woven into my very soul. Rising to my feet, I drew my sword, regretting that I hadn't taken the time to polish it. Dull or not, it was all Ihad to offer. I crossed it over my chest in deference before falling to one knee, head bowed. No mortal should dare to gaze upon such beauty.
And yet, I did.
Long, alabaster legs stepped into my line of vision, and despite the weight of reverence pressing down on me, I could not look away.
A gauzy dress fluttered around her legs from a slight breeze, making her skin appear even paler than it already was. Her feet were bare, her toenails colored in blood red. Small, golden chains decorated her ankles, making a slight tinkling sound with every step she took toward me.
Against my better judgment, my eyes rose up her long legs—well-formed and muscled in the right places. My neck burned when the dark triangle of hair covering her sex came into view. The gauzy dress she wore didn't do anything to hide her body and her nakedness.
Well-rounded hips, swaying sultrily with every move forward, followed by a tiny waist. So small, I was sure I could encircle it with my large hands. A diamond sparkled inside her belly button, and a gold chain was draped around her waist. My throat turned dry, even dryer than it had been after not having water for two days during our campaign.
Her breasts came into view, and my traitorous cock twitched, hardening at the sight. They sat high and proud. Dark nipples stood in the center, erect and hard. My throat worked as I dry swallowed. My fingers itched to cup her breasts, to suck on her nipples, but guilt flamed my gut. How could I desire a goddess? She wasn't meant to be touched by mortal men. By men like me.
Fragile collarbones and shoulders tapered into a long, elegant neck adorned with a wide, circular gold chain embossed with dark rubies.
A stubborn set chin moved forward with the same determination I sensed in every step she took. Full lips promised a pleasure beyond this world.
Her fine, straight nose was nothing like mine, which had been broken several times. The bluest eyes that would have brought a sapphire to shame took me in with haughty curiosity. Thick, black hair cascaded down her back in soft waves all the way to her waist. She was the most stunning, beautiful creature I had ever laid eyes on.
Had she not been a goddess, I would have ripped the ridiculous gauzy material off her, spread her legs, and plunged into her sex like a man possessed. I would have made her mine in every wicked way I could think of, and I wouldn't have rested for days. I would have made her mine until the end of time.
Not once in my life had I ever considered taking a wife. But with her? Just the thought of watching that beautiful flat belly of hers grow with my child bathed me in sweat and longing. I wanted her like I had never wanted anything or anybody in my life.
A small smile curved her lips up, as if she could read my thoughts. When she was so close that her sex was right in my line of sight, she paused. "Vardor? High Warlord of Orasis?"
