Aureon stood alone at the Temple of Dawn.

  The sky behind him shone gold, casting long, peaceful shadows through the massive columns of the temple, but the peace did not reach him. His jaw was set so hard it ached, the golden skin tight against the bone.

  He paced the polished obsidian floor until he reached the divine font. He traced his palm over a glowing pool of divine water. It reflected every event on the island—every raid, every death, every whisper of darkness.

  He leaned closer, his eyes widening.

  He stared down, and the pool's mirror instantly cleared, showing the figure of the boar—the creature Kaelen had just created—reflected in the surface. Dead. Killed. Then instantly risen, its eyes glowing with a cold, unnatural grey light.

  Aureon hissed a sharp breath, the sound echoing off the stone walls. “No… no, this cannot be happening.”

  He stepped back from the water, hands trembling. “That bracelet was not meant to fall into mortal hands.” he whispered, the realization sinking into him like cold stone. Varkhul had failed his duty.

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  He slid his fingers across the pool's surface again, searching—desperately trying to find the wearer's face.

  The vision blurred, clouded by heavy, swirling shadows that protected the user. He could not see the face clearly.

  But he didn't need to.

  He remembered the morning in the village. The boy standing in the shadows while everyone else rushed to him. The boy hiding his right arm behind his back. The boy with the bright green eyes who had refused to bow.

  Aureon froze as the memory sharpened. He remembered the sudden, sharp spike of terror in the boy’s posture when their eyes met. It hadn't been simple fear of a god. It had been the terror of a thief caught red-handed.

  He knew. The boy knew exactly what he was holding.

  “The Elder’s son,” Aureon whispered into the golden air, his voice choked with fury. “He stood right in front of me, and I let him go.”

  He looked up, staring at the statue of himself. “Varkhul… you fool. You were supposed to guard it.”

  He clenched his fist until light bled from his knuckles.

  He looked at the reflection of his own panicked face in the water. He had spent centuries preventing this. He had hidden the truth from the mortals.

  “If the bracelets merge…” he began, his voice barely a tremor. He swallowed, the sound loud in the silent temple. “…Seravar will wake. And everything I have built... everything I have hidden... will burn.”

  For the first time in centuries, the god of light felt powerless.