Chains of Light

The grove was quiet, its stillness broken only by the faint hum of the seer pond. Aelon stood at its edge, his gaze locked on the shimmering water. Five tiny forms were reflected in its depths, their breaths slow and peaceful as they lay asleep in the orphanage. Each mark on their bodies pulsed faintly, golden light flickering like the beat of a distant heart.

Behind him, the other gods lingered, their diminished forms casting faint shadows against the cracked marble and overgrown vines. Once mighty, now their presence was a faint echo of what it had been. Yet here, in this forgotten sanctuary, hope stirred again.

"They are fragile," said the Old God of Elves, his voice sharp and skeptical. "Their light barely flickers, and you expect this to carry the last of our power?"

"They are young," the Old God of Orcs replied, his voice a low rumble. "Strength takes time to grow. And they will grow stronger than you think."

The Old God of Beastkin tilted her head, her voice calm but thoughtful. "It isn't strength alone that matters. Look closely. Their bond—it stirs even now. Their marks are not just glowing. They are reaching for each other."

The pond rippled as Aelon lowered his hand to its surface, brushing the water lightly. The reflection steadied, and the marks on the children glowed brighter for a moment.

"They were chosen for their bond," Aelon said. "Not for their strength. They have faced trials they no longer remember, and in those moments, they overcame not alone, but together."

The Old God of Dwarves scoffed. "And what happens when one falters? You've tied their fates together. A chain is only as strong as its weakest link."

"And yet," said the Old God of Humans, his voice heavy with conviction, "without this chain, there is no hope. The new gods grow bolder every day. If we do not act now, there will be no world left to save."

Aelon's gaze remained fixed on the pond. The golden light reflected in his eyes as he spoke. "Their bond will awaken tonight. Let the world notice it, for good or ill. The first step must be taken."

The light in the pond flared brighter, casting the grove in a warm glow. The gods stood silent, watching as the children's marks pulsed steadily, the bond stirring to life.

---

Lera stirred in her sleep, the warmth of the hearth fading as her dream took hold. She stood in a field of golden grass, the twilight sky above her painted in hues of amber and crimson. The air hummed faintly, a vibration she could feel deep in her chest.

A figure appeared on the horizon, walking toward her with a presence that felt both natural and otherworldly. His form shimmered with radiant light, his steps slow and deliberate. Lera froze as he drew closer, her voice trembling as she spoke.

"Who are you?"

"I am Aelon," he said, his tone calm yet resonant. "An old god of a forgotten world. And you, Lera, are now part of what is to come."

Her gaze flicked between him and the golden grass, confusion plain on her face. "Part of what?" she asked. "What are you talking about?"

Aelon raised a hand, and the grass parted. Five tiny forms appeared, glowing faintly as they rested on a platform of light. Lera's chest tightened as warmth spread through her, unexplainable yet deeply comforting.

"They are more than what they seem," Aelon said. "Each carries a name—a reflection of their essence. I will give these names to you."

He gestured to the children, his voice steady and deliberate. "Cross, the watcher. Sparks, the spark of ingenuity. Ox, the strength. Zara, the healer."

He paused, his gaze softening as he looked at the last child. "And Alistair, the defender. His shield will stand between the darkness and those who follow him."

As Aelon spoke Alistair's name, a burst of golden light erupted from the platform. Chains of radiant energy linked the children together, their marks glowing bright. A smaller chain extended to Lera, wrapping around her chest with a gentle warmth.

"What is this?" she whispered, her hand trembling over her heart.

"Their bond," Aelon said. "It will grow as they do, binding their strengths and wills together. And you, Lera, are part of it—not as their equal, but as their guide."

As the light dimmed, Aelon's form shimmered, dissolving into the twilight. "Protect them," he said softly. "And trust in their light."

---

Lera woke with a start, her heart racing. The warmth of the dream lingered in her chest as she sat up, the glow of the hearth casting long shadows on the walls. Her eyes fell on the children, their tiny forms resting peacefully under their blankets. Slowly, she knelt beside them, her fingers trembling as she touched Alistair's blanket.

The names echoed in her mind, insistent yet calming. She whispered them aloud.

"Cross… Sparks… Ox… Zara… Alistair."

The moment she said Alistair's name, the room lit up. The marks on the children flared, and radiant chains of light formed between them, linking their glowing marks in a shimmering web. A smaller chain extended toward Lera, pulsing softly as it connected to her chest.

Her breath hitched as something stirred in her mind. It wasn't words or thoughts—more like sensations. Calmness flowed from Zara's mark. Sparks' mark hummed with curiosity, while Ox's pulsed with strength. Cross's carried a sharp vigilance, steady and watchful. And Alistair—his presence felt like a shield, grounding and protective.

The light grew brighter, spilling into the room and threatening to pour out into the night. Lera's stomach twisted with fear. Without thinking, she raised her hands, warmth surging through her chest as words she didn't recognize slipped from her lips. A translucent dome of shimmering energy expanded outward, covering the orphanage. The glow softened, contained within the barrier, and the outside world remained undisturbed.

"Lera!" Greaves shouted, bolting upright. His eyes darted between the glowing chains, the children, and the shimmering barrier. "What in the gods' names is this?"

She stared at her hands, still trembling. "I… I don't know," she said, her voice shaking. "I just… it felt right."

Greaves frowned, his gaze locked on the barrier. "You cast a barrier," he said. "When did you learn that?"

"I didn't," Lera replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've only ever done small things—lighting fires, guiding lanterns. This… this just happened."

Greaves rubbed his temples, muttering under his breath. "Magic doesn't just happen, Lera. Whatever this is—it's not normal."

"I know," she said, looking back at the children. "But it's real. They're connected… and somehow, so am I."

The light began to fade, though the warmth in her chest lingered. She stayed where she was, her hand resting on Alistair's blanket, as the marks dimmed to a faint glow.

---

Far away, the gods watched in silence.

"She cast a barrier," the Old God of Elves murmured, his tone a mixture of surprise and intrigue. "And the bond—she feels it."

"Instinct," said the Old God of Beastkin with a faint smile. "She adapts quickly."

Aelon's gaze remained fixed on the pond. "It is faint now," he said. "But it will grow. Let them discover its strength in time."

The seer pond dimmed, and the grove fell silent.