The Ancient God stood at the edge of a forgotten forest, his golden eyes filled with a mix of awe and sorrow. This place was a sanctuary, vibrant and alive, a stark contrast to the world beyond its borders, now ravaged by decay and despair. The trees loomed high above him, guardians of an ancient wisdom, and their leaves rustled softly, as if sharing secrets with the breeze.
As he stepped forward, he felt a familiar pulse beneath his feet, the earth responding to his presence with a soft hum that stirred memories long buried. He reached out and placed his palm on the rough bark of an ancient oak, feeling its heartbeat against his hand. It quivered under his touch, glowing softly as if it yearned to connect with its creator once more.
This was a sacred space, a testament to resilience. Here, amidst the whispers of nature, he would plant the seed.
Closing his eyes, he delved deep within himself, summoning a flicker of his divine essence. It was a warm glow, full of life and hope, that flowed from his chest down to his outstretched hand. With care, he lowered his palm to the earth, allowing that warmth to seep into the soil.
From the ground, a single seed emerged.
Small. Glowing. Powerful.
This was no ordinary seed. It cradled a piece of his own spirit, a purpose yet to unfold. More than just a symbol of life, it embodied destiny—a warrior waiting to be born, a savior who would one day awaken with the strength to command the elements, a voice for all living things, and a shield against the darkness that had gripped humanity.
He held the seed delicately, feeling its pulse resonate with potential and the weight of future trials. The one who would rise from this humble beginning would face unimaginable horrors, struggles that could shatter the strongest of hearts.
Kneeling, he pressed the seed into the earth, and the soil quivered as roots wrapped around it, welcoming it home. A soft golden light pulsed from where it lay, then faded into hushed stillness.
The seed was in place. The prophecy set in motion.
He placed his hand over the spot, sealing it with a quiet promise: "Sleep now, child of the divine. When the world is ready, you shall awaken."
Thunder rumbled in the distance as if the elements were resonating with his decree. The sun dimmed, and the weight of his words echoed across the land, a call to those who could hear.
Yet, as he rose, a chill ran down his spine; he felt the unsettling awareness of concealed eyes, watching from the shadows.
Something lurked beyond the trees.
Turning slowly, his gaze pierced the darkened edges of the forest. At first, it was quiet, unsettlingly so. Then he saw it—a flicker, a movement that stirred unease in his chest.
From the depths of the ruined world, something emerged. It was a presence twisted by malice.
Glowing eyes appeared, lifeless and void of compassion—one pair, then another, until the shadows swarmed with grotesque figures.
The god remained steadfast, but his heart quickened, power thrumming beneath his skin, ready to erupt.
The creatures emerged from the darkness, their forms disfigured and horrifying—elongated limbs and stretched skin that whispered of their former humanity. Their mouths twisted into sadistic grins, rows of jagged teeth glistening under a grim light.
They had been waiting for this moment.
One let out a spine-chilling screech, launching toward him with a hunger that only despair could breed.
Without hesitation, the god raised his hand. Energy crackled through the air as a golden wave blossomed from his palm. The creature was struck mid-air, its body convulsing, and with a deafening scream, it disintegrated into nothingness.
Yet, the others did not retreat.
They encircled him, their hollow eyes burning with a ravenous need, the corruption within them a mockery of what they once were. No longer human, they were pawns of a greater malevolence.
His heart heavy with the weight of necessity, he lifted his other hand. The earth throbbed in response. Roots erupted from the ground, wrapping around the creatures, ensnaring them in nature's unbreakable grasp. With a flick of thought, the roots twisted, crushing the abominations into the earth, silencing their distorted cries.
Silence fell around him, heavy as a shroud.
He lowered his hands, surveying the remains of the confrontation, knowing this would only be the beginning. The invaders would send more—yet, despite the looming darkness, hope lingered within him. The seed was safe. The future twisted and turned, but it was in motion.
As he turned to leave, he could not shake the feeling that something far greater lurked beyond the shadows. The creatures had been mere foot soldiers. The true enemy had yet to reveal itself.
With a final glance at the sacred grove, the god disappeared, vanishing into the heavens once more.
The world would not see him again for another thousand years.
But when that time came, his warrior would rise.
And the battle for humanity's soul would begin.