Threads of Fate

Threads of Fate

The flames of dawn flickered across the ruins of the hollowed village, casting grotesque shadows along the broken walls. Jerry stood motionless, staring at the remnants of the ritual. The symbol-riddled earth still pulsed faintly, the aftershocks of an abyssal presence lingering like a wound that refused to heal.

Janice shivered beside him, rubbing her arms. Though her body was intact, something inside her had changed. The streak of white in her hair stood as a testament to her brush with the Abyss. She could still hear the titan's voice, feel its whisper slithering through her thoughts.

"The girl is mine now."

She clenched her fists. No. She would resist. She had to.

Jerry turned to the king's riders. "Tell Hakinem he has two choices. Prepare his kingdom for war, or fall before the Abyss." His voice was calm, but the glow in his eyes left no room for doubt.

The soldiers hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. The eldest among them, a scarred man named Oswin, bowed his head. "I will deliver your warning, godling."

Jerry's lips tightened at the word. Godling. They all called him that now. But he didn't feel like a god—he felt like a man standing at the edge of an abyss, looking down into a darkness that wanted to swallow everything he loved.

As the soldiers rode off, Jerry exhaled. His muscles ached, his mind burned with questions, and his heart—

He glanced at Janice.

His heart was complicated.

She caught his gaze and gave him a tired smirk. "You look like you're thinking too hard."

"Just wondering what kind of mess I've dragged you into."

Janice raised an eyebrow. "You dragged me into this? Last I checked, I was the one throwing myself in front of magical death traps."

Jerry chuckled despite himself. "Fair point."

She nudged him playfully. "So, what now? The Abyss won't just sit and wait for us to come knocking."

Jerry's face darkened. "No, it won't. And Archibald…"

Janice's smirk faded. "He saved me." Her voice was quiet, conflicted. "I don't understand why."

Neither did Jerry. Archibald had been twisted by the priest's magic, corrupted by the Abyss—but something had stopped him from killing them. For a moment, just a moment, Jerry had seen something almost human in his eyes.

Regret.

That was dangerous. Regret meant he still had a will of his own.

And a man with power and regret was unpredictable.

"We need to find him," Jerry said finally. "Before he decides which path he's going to take."

Janice nodded. "North, then."

They gathered what supplies they could from the ruined village—rations, cloaks, and a few weapons left behind by the missing villagers. As Jerry adjusted the straps of his pack, his area detection flared.

Someone was watching them.

His body moved before his mind fully processed the warning. He spun, arm raised, light flaring in his palm.

A dagger stopped inches from his throat.

Its wielder was fast—too fast.

Jerry's eyes locked onto the figure in front of him. A hooded woman, dressed in dark leathers, her face hidden beneath a veil of cloth. Her stance was precise, controlled.

An assassin.

Janice drew her sword. "Friend or foe?" she asked, voice edged with steel.

The woman lowered her dagger slowly. "Depends," she said, her voice soft but firm. "Are you the one called Jerry?"

Jerry narrowed his eyes. "Who's asking?"

The woman pulled back her hood. Dark auburn hair spilled over her shoulders, framing sharp, intelligent green eyes. Her face was angular, beautiful in a way that was made for deception.

"My name is Selene," she said. "And if you want to live, you'll come with me."

Jerry didn't move. "Not much for introductions, are you?"

Selene's expression remained impassive. "I wasn't sent to be polite. I was sent to deliver a message." She tossed something small at his feet.

A medallion.

Jerry's breath caught. He recognized it instantly—the sigil of the old world, of the scholars who once studied the fabric of time and existence.

The same sigil Mike used to wear.

His pulse pounded. "Where did you get this?"

Selene tilted her head. "You're not the only one looking for lost gods."

Janice shifted uncomfortably. "Jerry…?"

He bent down, picking up the medallion, running his thumb over its worn surface. Memories flooded back—late nights in Mike's lab, discussions about the nature of existence, about time's endless weave.

Could it be? Could Mike still be somewhere?

He straightened, locking eyes with Selene. "Where is he?"

Selene turned on her heel. "Follow me. And try to keep up."

Jerry and Janice exchanged glances before moving after her, their path shifting once more.

North was no longer just about Archibald.

Now, it was about finding the only man who might still have the answers Jerry so desperately needed.