Word of Arius's victories spread. Gods who once scoffed now watched with interest. Rumors swirled: a mortal who challenged Ravoth and lived. A boy whose power rivaled the old pantheon. Whispers grew into proclamations.
During a gathering in the Hall of Ascendance, the High Council summoned him.
Twelve gods—each more radiant and terrifying than the last—sat in thrones of celestial metal. Their voices echoed like choirs and storms.
"Do you know why you were chosen, Arius?" asked a voice like a bell tolling across eternity. It belonged to the All-Mother, queen of the divine.
"I only know what I feel," he replied, steady. "That I'm meant to do more than survive."
"You are the last heir of the Forgotten Line," she said. "The child of Erython, god of beginnings, and Selphira, goddess of mortal flame. Both erased from history… until now."
The revelation hit like a tidal wave. His dreams, his instincts—it had all been real. He wasn't a fluke.
He was a spark left behind by gods who defied the order.
"You possess the power of origin," one god murmured. "And the flame of rebellion. Dangerous traits."
Dangerous… or necessary? Arius couldn't yet tell.