Chapter 23 – The Wandering God
The silence after the slaughter felt heavier than the fight itself.
The once-thunderous city of giants now lay in ruin—its great stone streets cracked and littered with colossal bones. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the strange ozone scent that always came after Keal used that power.
The others stood in scattered positions, catching their breath. Myros was leaning on his staff, shadows curling around him as his undead army melted into nothing, their borrowed lives returning to the void. Astrili was kneeling, her light magic flickering faintly as she healed a deep cut on her side. Selvaria's blade was chipped; she stared at it like she'd just lost a piece of herself. Nyx… Nyx simply crouched on a rooftop, silent, her gaze locked on Keal.
Because he hadn't moved.
Not since the giant fell.
Keal stood with his back to them, one fist still clenched, purple light crawling across his forearm like living lightning. His breathing was slow—too slow. It was the kind of stillness that didn't mean calm, but absence.
"...Keal?" Astrili's voice was cautious, like she was talking to a dangerous animal.
He didn't turn.
"You didn't see it," he finally said. "The moment I struck… the world around me stopped existing. There was nothing. Not light. Not sound. Just me and the target. And then…" He paused, his voice lower now. "A piece of me didn't come back."
The group exchanged uneasy glances.
"What does that mean?" Myros asked, stepping closer, his robe brushing over the cracked stones.
Keal turned his head slightly. His eyes glowed—brighter than before, but colder, stripped of the faint warmth they once carried. "It means every time I use this power, I lose something. Fear. Anger. Maybe… eventually, everything."
Nyx finally hopped down from her perch, walking past the others to stand in front of him. She tilted her head, her usual half-smirk gone. "So what? You're saying you're becoming a god or a corpse?"
Keal gave a humorless chuckle. "I don't know. But whichever it is… I'll keep walking until I can't."
The Road Forward
They left the city by dawn, its massive gates broken during the battle. The path ahead was quieter, lined with withered trees whose branches stretched like skeletal arms. The air was colder here, almost whispering in their ears as they walked.
"Alright," Selvaria broke the silence, her tone almost playful. "Let's all agree—next time we fight a giant, no surprise speed. My heart's still recovering."
"Speak for yourself," Nyx muttered. "I like the surprises. Makes things less boring."
Astrili sighed. "It's only 'less boring' if you're not the one patching everyone up afterward."
Myros cleared his throat. "Technically, I could have patched you up too. If you didn't mind… y'know… being undead."
Astrili gave him a flat glare. "Pass."
Keal walked ahead of them, saying nothing. But he was listening. Their banter was a tether—something that reminded him of the world outside battle.
The Wandering God
They reached a crossroads by midday. Or at least, what looked like one—four roads stretching into different horizons, all shrouded in an unnatural fog. In the center stood a lone figure, leaning on a long, silver staff. His robes were patched and faded, marked with symbols that shifted if you looked too long.
He was… smiling. But not the kind of smile that welcomed. The kind that measured.
"Well, well… travelers in my domain." His voice was warm and cold at the same time, like fire wrapped in frost. "You've made quite the mess in the Giant's Domain."
Nyx's hand instantly went to her dagger. Selvaria subtly shifted her stance. Myros muttered something under his breath—likely a spell—but Keal simply looked at him.
"Who are you?" Keal asked.
"Names are chains, young one," the stranger replied. "But the locals once called me… the Wandering God."
Astrili's eyes narrowed. "Gods aren't supposed to walk the Dead World."
"Supposed to?" He chuckled, tapping his staff on the ground. "Oh, little light-weaver… the rules here are written in sand, and the tide is rising."
The fog around them thickened. Shapes moved within it—massive, shifting things with too many limbs. The others readied their weapons, but the Wandering God only smiled wider.
"Relax. I'm not here to kill you. I'm here to see if you're worth… knowing."
Keal stepped forward, purple light flickering in his eyes. "And what happens if we're not?"
The Wandering God tilted his head. "Then you keep walking… until you reach something that isn't me."
Selvaria muttered, "Yeah, that sounds totally safe."
The Test
Without warning, the god tapped his staff again—and the ground rippled like water. The group was suddenly standing on a black plain under a shattered sky, stars spiraling in impossible directions.
A single question echoed in their minds:
What will you give up to reach the end?
Keal's chest tightened. He could feel the weight of the question pressing into him—like it was trying to pull the answer out by force. Around him, the others stiffened, clearly feeling the same.
But Keal didn't hesitate. "Anything," he said aloud.
The Wandering God's smile grew sharper. "Good answer… dangerous, but good."
The plain faded, the fog returned, and they were standing at the crossroads once again. The god stepped aside, gesturing to the northern road.
"Go. The Second Zone is behind you. The Third awaits. And remember, Keal…" His gaze pierced straight through him. "Every gift has a grave."
They walked on, the fog swallowing the god's figure behind them. None of them spoke for a while—not even Nyx. Because they all felt it: something about that meeting had marked them.
And Keal… Keal knew that whatever the Wandering God was, their paths would cross again. And next time, the cost might not be something he could pay.