Decades passed and humanity grew, evolving. Cities rose where forests once stood as mortals reshaped the world with their own hands. Magic, once feared and worshipped, became studied and controlled as mortals turned its wonders into tools. Faith began to fracture as mortals began placing their beliefs in other sources, such as crowns, councils, and even themselves. Dangerous questions spread among the people about destiny, about choice, and about whether fate had ever been truly just…and Rowan stood behind it all.

  He should have died three times by now. Eos certainly had been trying to ensure his death, but instead he stood at the edge of a city divided by doubt, watching as its citizens stumbled around, whispering repeated rumors like a broken telephone.

  The gods were quiet today. They always were when it mattered. He flexed his hand, feeling the faint scar across his palm that had never truly faded no matter how many times he had healed himself. He saw this as proof. Proof that the universe made mistakes and that although most people chose to believe that the universe had a plan, that suffering meant something, and there was order beyond chaos, he knew better.

  He felt the absence where fate should have been. There was no pull, no whisper, and no thread guiding his steps. As he passed through life he heard nothing but silence. And in that silence, he found nothing but freedom.

  “They’ll notice eventually,” he murmured to himself. “They always do.” But by then it would be too late, the seeds of doubt will have spread far and wide across Aionyx and more people will have joined his cause. Because while the gods played with their chosen mortals and trained their loyal scribes, he had been listening to the cries of humanity. To its anger, its desperation, and to its willingness to believe in anyone who promised answers to a universe that lacked them.

  Rowan smiled, patient.

  “Let the gods scramble through their libraries. Let them search their precious threads and find that they have none wrapped around me!” He shouted, raising his hands to the sky as if to hold up its weight. “By the time they realize, the future will belong to me, and I shall bring all of Aionyx to its knees!”

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  A dry cough came from behind him, ruining the intense moment. “Wow, dramatic much?” Rowan sighed, lowering his arms and casting a sideways glance at the deity that rested on his knees behind him.

  “Must you ruin such an important moment, Azrael?”

  “Must you dramaticise everything?” Azrael scoffed, the chains rattling behind him as he shifted. The God of the Dead was on his knees, chains restrained his ankles and wrists to the stone beneath him as he looked up at the mortal that had overpowered him with disdain. Rowan flashed a grin that instilled nothing but fear in Azrael.

  “I’d say that a situation like this calls for a little bit of drama,” He chuckled, drawing the dagger from his side and sliding his pointer finger across the blade. “I mean, the death of a god is certainly an important occasion, no?”

  “What?”

  A tense silence filled the air as Rowan’s words sunk in. Azrael’s eyes widened.

  “Listen here, mortal. I don’t know who you think you are but I am a god!” He shouted, chains rattling as he moved. “You cannot make pathetic threats and expect to instill fear in my celestial body!”

  “Ah, but it seems I have,” Rowan grinned, stepping forward and tilting Azrael’s chin up using the tip of his dagger. “I can smell your fear, little god, and it smells delicious.”

  Azrael’s eyes flared with rage as he shifted his body forward as much as the chains would allow him. “I’ll have your head for this!” He shouted, sensing that the end was near.

  “No,” Rowan grinned. “But I’ll certainly have yours.”

  A blade sliced through the air and a deafening thud followed it. Rowan grinned.

  “Pathetic,” he laughed as he reached down and grabbed the head of the God of the Dead. “One of your mighty gods, slaughtered like a pig!” He shouted to the world, raising the head up high to show his abilities. He smeared ichor on his face.

  “From now on, I shall be known as Godkiller and all of Aionyx will bend to my will!”

  He reached down and swiped the pendant that dangled from Azrael’s neck before hiding it in his pockets. Godkiller turned to face his soldiers who had walked up behind Azrael’s corpse.

  “Now men, we march on into a new day, onto a new plan to take control of all of Aionyx.”