Eryndor' POV
The city above was called Aethermere. I learned this from listening to Lyra and her followers talk. It was one of the great cities of the mortal world, a place where ten thousand people lived in perfect order under the watchful eyes of the high gods.
Through the crack in the seal, I could see glimpses of it. Tall white buildings that gleamed in the sunlight. Clean streets with no trash or dirt. Gardens perfectly maintained, with flowers that bloomed in neat rows. Everything was beautiful. Everything was controlled.
And beneath that beauty, I could feel the emptiness.
Lyra's group continued to grow. Forty followers now, then fifty. They met in different places each time, moving around to avoid notice. They were all careful. They knew that what they were doing was forbidden, that if the temple priests discovered them, they would be taken for correction.
Correction. That was what they called it in this perfect world. When someone stepped outside their assigned path, when they questioned or disobeyed, they were brought to the temples for correction. They came back changed, quieter, with the light gone from their eyes.
The thought made me sick.
One night, I watched through Lyra's eyes as she walked home through the empty streets. It was late, past the hour when mortals were supposed to be inside their homes. The city was silent except for the sound of her footsteps.
She turned a corner and nearly walked into a temple priest.
He was tall and thin, dressed in white robes that seemed to glow in the moonlight. His eyes were cold as he looked at her.
"You are out past hours," he said.
"I am sorry," Lyra said quickly. "I was visiting a sick friend and lost track of time."
The priest studied her face. "Which friend?"
"Mara. She lives on the eastern side."
"I see." He did not sound convinced. "You should go home. And tomorrow, you should visit the temple. For guidance."
Lyra nodded and hurried past him. I could feel her heart racing, the fear sharp in her chest. When she reached her home and locked the door behind her, she collapsed against it, breathing hard.
*He suspects something,* I whispered to her.
"I know," she said quietly. "We need to be more careful."
Or you need to move faster.
She looked up, her eyes finding the small altar she had built in the corner of her room. It was simple, just a flat stone with my symbol carved into it. The symbol I had taught her through our connection.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
*You have fifty followers now. That is enough to make a real change. You do not have to hide anymore.*
"If we reveal ourselves, they will take us all for correction."
*Only if you let them. But if you stand together, if you refuse to be silenced, they cannot correct all of you. Others will see your courage. Others will join you.*
Lyra shook her head. "You do not understand. The high gods are everywhere. They see everything. We cannot fight them."
*Yes, you can. You just have to believe you can.*
She was quiet for a long time, staring at the altar. Then she said, "If we do this, if we stand openly against them, will you protect us?"
The question hit me hard. She was asking if I was strong enough yet to truly help them. And the truth was, I was not sure. The crack in the seal had widened, but I was still trapped in the Forgotten Realm. I could send whispers and feelings, but I could not manifest in the mortal world. Not yet.
But I could not tell her that. If I showed doubt, I would lose her. I would lose all of them.
*I will do everything in my power to protect you,* I said. *But you must have faith. You must trust that the path we are walking leads somewhere better than the cage you live in now.*
Lyra took a deep breath and nodded. "All right. I will talk to the others. We will decide together."
Over the next few days, Lyra gathered the followers in groups of ten, speaking to each group separately. She told them about the priest who had stopped her. She told them that hiding would only last so long. She told them that if they truly wanted change, they would have to fight for it.
Not everyone agreed. Some left, too afraid to continue. But most stayed. And those who stayed were stronger for it, their faith in me growing deeper.
They made a plan. They would gather in the central square of Aethermere during the day, when the city was full of people. They would speak openly about the forgotten god who had heard their prayers. They would tell others about the emptiness they felt and the freedom they sought. And they would refuse to be taken for correction.
The night before they planned to do this, I gathered all the forgotten ones in my temple.
"Tomorrow, my followers will reveal themselves," I said. "They will speak my name openly. When they do, the high gods will notice. My siblings will see that I am breaking free."
"Will they try to seal you again?" Thorn asked.
"Probably. But the crack is wider now. They cannot close it easily. And if enough mortals speak my name tomorrow, if enough of them have faith, the crack will widen even more. Maybe enough that I can push through completely."
The forgotten ones stirred with excitement. This was what they had been waiting for. The chance to return.
"When you push through," Kael said, "we come with you, yes?"
"Yes," I said. "All of you. We will return together, or not at all."
They nodded, satisfied.
I spent the rest of the night preparing. I gathered every bit of power I could, pulling it from the connection to my followers, storing it inside myself. I would need all of it tomorrow. Because if my siblings tried to seal me again, I would have to fight back. And fighting divine beings, even from the other side of a seal, would take more strength than I had ever needed before.
When morning came to the mortal world, I watched through Lyra's eyes as she walked to the central square. The other followers came from different directions, mixing into the morning crowd so they would not be noticed. By the time the sun was fully up, all fifty of them were there, scattered among the hundreds of regular people going about their assigned tasks.
Lyra climbed onto the base of a fountain in the center of the square. People stopped and stared. You were not supposed to stand on public monuments. You were not supposed to draw attention to yourself.
"My name is Lyra," she called out. Her voice shook slightly, but she kept going. "And I am here to tell you about the forgotten god. About Eryndor, who was cast out for believing that we deserve more than the lives we have been given."
The crowd grew silent. People looked at each other nervously. Some started to walk away, not wanting to be involved.
But others stayed. Others listened.
"We have been told that our lives are perfect," Lyra continued. "That the high gods have given us everything we need. But they have not given us a choice. They have not given us the freedom to make our own mistakes, to find our own paths, to live lives that mean something beyond following the plan they made for us."
A temple priest pushed through the crowd. "Get down from there. You are speaking forbidden words."
Lyra did not get down. "I am speaking the truth. And I am not alone."
The other followers stepped forward, revealing themselves. Fifty people, standing in the square, all of them looking at the priest with the same determined expression.
The priest's eyes widened. He reached for the pendant around his neck, the one that let him communicate with the temples. But before he could use it, Corvin, one of Lyra's first followers, grabbed his hand.
"No," Corvin said quietly. "No more corrections. No more silencing people for wanting more."
The crowd erupted in whispers. Some people looked scared. But others looked interested, even excited. This was the first time in years that anyone had openly defied the temples.
And then I felt it. A massive presence, pushing against the seal. Not just Celestara this time. All of my siblings, together, tried to close the crack before I could escape.
I pushed back with everything I had. The forgotten ones helped, adding their faded power to mine. The seal shuddered between us, caught in a tug of war between my siblings' need to contain me and my determination to break free.
In the square, people started to feel it. The air grew heavy. The sky darkened, clouds gathering where there had been clear blue moments before. The priests looked up, their faces going pale.
"He is coming," one of them whispered. "The forgotten god is breaking the seal."
Lyra looked up at the darkening sky and smiled. "Yes," she said. "He is."
And with those words, with her faith and the faith of the fifty people standing with her, the crack widened into a tear.
I felt the seal break.
And I began to rise.