Chapter 2: The Weight of Thorns
The sun had not yet risen.
A pale glow bled into the sky, bruised with violet and ash. Birds did not sing. The forest held its breath.
Elira stood before the altar still, the divine shard humming faintly beneath her palm. Power coursed through her veins like cold lightning—thrilling, ancient, and not yet hers.
> System Alert:
Karmic Interference Detected.
Divine Fragment Location Revealed.
Warning: Hostile Entities Approaching.
Estimated Time: 00:24:51
She exhaled slowly.
So they were coming.
The memory shard had not gone unnoticed. Whatever hunted her now was no longer mortal—at least not entirely.
"Elira…" Mari's voice stirred behind her. Sleep-heavy and scared. "What was that light?"
"A piece of what was taken from me," Elira replied. "But it has drawn enemies."
Mari paled. "Should we run?"
"No. We fight." She turned, eyes gleaming with silver. "But we do not fight here."
---
They moved quickly.
Elira led Mari deeper into the woods, away from the ruined chapel and into the territory of the forgotten. The terrain grew wild—dense roots, twisted thorns, vines thick with memory. Long ago, this had been sacred land. Now it belonged to no one. Not even the empire dared tread here.
> System Sync: 21%
New Memory Glimpse Available
View Now? [Y/N]
Elira blinked. "Yes," she whispered.
***
Memory Glimpse I: The Binding of Thorns
She stood atop a battlefield littered with gods.
Ash covered the sky. The sun bled gold.
"You're too soft," a voice had growled beside her. A goddess clad in obsidian armor, eyes like shattered mirrors. "You spare too many. You hesitate."
Elira—no, Eliara the Seventh Light—had looked at her calmly.
"I am not soft," she had said. "I simply remember what mercy feels like."
The obsidian goddess had laughed.
"That will be your downfall."
---
The vision vanished. Elira staggered.
Mari caught her. "What happened?"
"Nothing," Elira said. "Just... memories of another war."
---
> Hostile Entities Detected:
+1 Corrupted Acolyte
+2 Blessed Hunters
+1 Sealed Apostle (Weakened)
Threat Level: Moderate
Suggested Action: Evade or Eliminate
Elira gritted her teeth. Her core was still sealed. Most of her divine strength remained locked. But she had Truthsight—and memory.
It would have to be enough.
She pushed Mari behind a gnarled oak tree and whispered, "Stay silent. If they find you, run north. Follow the water. Do not look back."
"What about you?"
"I'll draw them away."
Mari's lip trembled. "Elira, please—"
"I've died three times," Elira said softly. "I don't plan to make it four."
Then she stepped into the clearing—alone.
---
They arrived in silence.
The Corrupted Acolyte walked first, his face draped in chains, hands blackened by rot. Behind him came the Blessed Hunters—tall, masked figures wielding glaive-sickles forged in temple fire. And last, floating above the ground, the Sealed Apostle—its form hidden behind a veil of burning scripture.
"Elira Dawnmont," it said, its voice not entirely its own. "Fragment of the Seventh Light. You are unworthy. Stand down."
"I've heard that before," Elira replied. "Usually right before someone dies."
The Hunters lunged.
She moved like instinct.
> Skill Activation: Truthsight
Duration: 3 seconds
Their true forms flickered—souls wrapped in blood-ink contracts, tethered by ancient oaths. Weak points glowed beneath their ribs.
Elira struck with stolen steel—her dagger slicing between ribs, into divine bindings. One Hunter fell screaming, another recoiled.
The Apostle raised its hand.
Scripture burst into flame, forming a sigil of judgment in the sky.
> Emergency Protocol Unlocked: Fragment Pulse
One-time Use: Release latent divine force in a 10-meter radius
Warning: May attract higher-tier entities
Use Now? [Y/N]
"Yes."
---
Light exploded.
Not warm. Not gentle.
It was raw—the kind of light that remembered being born from stars, that knew the shape of creation's scream.
The Hunters were thrown back, limbs contorting. The Acolyte shattered, chains melting into ash.
Only the Apostle remained.
"I see," it murmured. "So she remembers."
Its veil cracked.
And for one moment, Elira saw its face.
Her own.
Before the flames claimed it.
---
> Victory
+15% Synchronicity
+1 Divine Memory Recovered: "The Mirror Soul"
Penalty Reduced: 3 hours remaining
Core Awakening: 2%
---
Elira dropped to her knees.
The power faded.
Mari ran to her, clutching her tightly. "You're hurt—Elira, you're bleeding!"
"I'll survive," Elira murmured, though her hands trembled. "But I need time. I need to awaken fully. Only then... only then can I face them."
Mari blinked. "Them?"
Elira stared at the dark horizon.
"The gods," she said. "The empire. The one who sits on a stolen throne."
***
Kael Thorne tossed in his sleep.
In his dream, the throne room was frozen. Ice climbed the walls. The chandeliers hung still, mid-sway. And on the throne, a woman sat cloaked in stars.
She wore a crown of thorns.
"Elira?" he breathed.
She smiled—slow and cruel.
"Your throne is cold, Kael. Just like your heart."
He woke with a gasp.
The fire in his chamber had gone out.
***
By dawn, she had carved a rune into the altar stone—marking her path.
One memory reclaimed.
One trial begun.
Twelve cycles remained.
And the world still believed her dead.
Elira smiled faintly to herself, wrapping her hand in cloth.
Let them believe it.
A goddess always rises in silence—right before the storm.