Cal woke to the scent of fresh bread and wildflowers. Sunlight slipped through the curtain, casting soft shadows across the wooden floor.
He stretched, muscles stiff from a life left behind—nights of cheap liquor and regret. Here, in this quiet village, he woke with purpose. Safe. Needed.
Outside, villagers waited. A boy, no older than ten, darted forward with a basket of purple berries.
"For you, Divine One!" he said, eyes bright.
Cal ruffled his hair, grinning. The boy laughed and ran to his friends. Villagers watched with warm, open smiles.
"Morning, Cal," said Mara, the seamstress, handing him a folded tunic. "For the festival."
"Thank you, Mara," Cal said, fingers brushing the soft cloth.
She blushed, waving him off. "You bless us by being here."
He didn't argue. "Divine One" had felt strange a year ago. Now, it fit like the tunic. He walked the village with quiet confidence.
He knew them now. Taren, the blacksmith, who laughed despite his losses. Lira, the weaver, whose songs filled the air. They weren't just villagers—they were his people.
The village had thrived since his arrival. Stronger homes, richer fields. Cal knew it was their sweat, not miracles. But they credited him.
He let them.
For the festival marking his arrival, they'd hung flowers and woven banners. Children carved wooden statues of him—crooked, smiling things. One made him laugh, warmth spreading in his chest. To them, he was more than a god. He was theirs.
That night, the square glowed with torchlight. Drums pulsed. Lira sang. Villagers danced, ate, laughed.
Taren pressed a cup of spiced wine into Cal's hand. "To you," he said. "For everything."
Cal raised his cup, throat tight. "To you," he said. "For giving me a home."
Cheers erupted. For a moment, Cal believed it—believed this peace, this love, was real.
Then the elders approached, smiling. Behind them stood Serna, golden hair braided with flowers, eyes soft and steady.
"Divine One," said Kael, the head elder. "A gift to bind you to us forever."
"A gift?" Cal asked, brow furrowing.
Kael gestured to Serna. "Serna. Our finest. We offer her as your wife."
Cal froze. Serna met his gaze, calm but hopeful. Not afraid.
His heart raced. Marriage? He'd never considered it—not in his old life, not here.
The villagers watched, expectant.
"I…" He looked at Serna. Her gentle smile eased something inside him.
"I'd be honored," he said.
The crowd roared. Serna stepped closer, her fingers brushing his. A small touch, but it anchored him. For the first time, this strange life felt real.
"Time alone, perhaps?" an elder called, chuckling.
The villagers drifted away, leaving Cal and Serna in the glowing square.
"So…" Serna rocked on her heels, smiling shyly.
Cal rubbed his neck. "Serna. How're you holding up?"
She laughed, soft. "Like we just met."
"Didn't expect a wife tonight," he admitted.
She stepped closer, eyes twinkling. "You've got petals in your crown."
He reached up, but her fingers were already there, brushing his hair gently.
"There," she said. "Divine again."
"Wasn't I before?"
"You looked nervous," she teased. "I liked it. Made you real."
He chuckled. "I'm not sure how to do this."
"Good," she said. "We'll learn together."
She glanced at the stars. "I still can't believe it. The Divine One choosing me."
Cal's voice softened. "Doesn't feel real to me either."
Her smile brightened. "Even if you weren't divine, I'd choose you."
He blinked. "Really?"
"You're kind," she said. "You listen. You remember names. And…" She giggled. "You're kind of cute."
"Cute?" he coughed, grinning.
"Yeah. Not used to compliments, are you?"
"Not like that."
She nudged his shoulder. "Get used to it."
Softer: "Walk with me?"
"I'd like that," he said.
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They walked hand in hand, past the square, into the quiet fields. Stars gleamed above.
That night, Cal lay awake, Serna's smile lingering in his mind. Everything felt right.
Then screams shattered the silence.
He bolted upright, heart pounding.
Smoke. Fire. He stumbled to the window.
The village burned. Flames devoured homes. Villagers fled, screaming. Dark-armored soldiers marched through the chaos, swords dripping red.
Taren fell, a blade in his chest. Mara clutched a child, only to crumple under a spear.
"No…" Cal's voice broke.
He yanked on his tunic and ran barefoot into the night.
The square was a slaughter. Lira lay lifeless by the well. In the center—Serna.
A soldier gripped her arm. A tall man in red-marked armor loomed before her.
Another soldier stepped forward.
His blade pierced Serna's chest.
Blood sprayed. Her eyes found Cal's, wide with pain. She reached for him, fingers trembling.
Then she fell.
Cal's scream tore through the night. "NO!"