Chapter 2: The World Without Her

The world was become too quiet as it died with her

The storm that radiated divinity vanished. The war was over and so was the person she was closest to

Amanda had spent the last day and night running through storms, through howling winds and earth-shaking explosions of power. The sky had burned with unnatural fire. The ground had split apart under the weight of divine battle. Everything had been alive, violent, suffocating.

But now, there was only silence.

She stood frozen, breathing hard, her fingers curled into the dirt beneath her. The golden barrier that had imprisoned Andrea was gone. The storm had cleared. The battle was over.

Andrea… was gone.

Amanda's heart pounded painfully against her ribs, her body refusing to move. No trace of her remained. Not a single ripple of power, not a single whisper of her presence. The world had simply… erased her.

The villagers were behind her, scattered across the wreckage of the once-living forest. No one spoke. No one moved.

The villagers were behind her, scattered and shaken. Some stood motionless, staring at the spot where Andrea had been as if she might step forward from the void. Others had dropped to their knees, hands clasped together in prayer, as if begging the gods to undo what had been done.

But no voice answered them.

Because the only god who had ever listened to them was gone.

Someone let out a broken sob. Amanda couldn't tell who.

She exhaled shakily and wiped a trembling hand across her face.

This wasn't real. It couldn't be. It felt wrong

The sky shouldn't be clear. The air shouldn't be still.

Andrea's presence had been so massive, so infinite, that the world had bent around her like the ocean bending to the pull of the moon.

And now?

It was as if the gods had ripped out a part of reality itself.

Andrea wasn't supposed to lose. She wasn't supposed to just… disappear.

Behind her, someone whispered, "She's really gone."

Amanda felt the words like a physical blow to the chest.

She turned toward the voice, finding a man kneeling in the dirt. His hands were clasped together in prayer, but his voice wavered, weak and disbelieving. "She fought for us… and she still lost."

Another voice, softer. "If even a goddess couldn't stand against them… what hope do we have?"

Amanda's fingers curled into fists.

No.

No, this wasn't how it ended. This wasn't how Andrea's story ended.

A child's voice cut through the thick, suffocating air.

"Lady Andrea said she'd protect us," a girl whispered. Her face was streaked with tears, her tiny hands gripping the hem of her mother's cloak. "She promised…"

Her mother didn't answer. Just pulled her close, murmuring something too quiet to hear.

Amanda looked away, her throat tightening.

She should have done something. Should have fought harder to stay. Should have found a way to break through the golden barrier and—

Her nails dug into her palms. What? What would you have done? What could you have done against them?

Andrea was a god.

And even she had lost.

A bitter taste filled Amanda's mouth.

If the villagers were waiting for her to say something, she had nothing to give them. No comfort. No reassurance. She had nothing left.

But she couldn't stay here.

She forced her body to move, to take a single step forward. Then another. And another.

No one followed.

She didn't stop.

If they wanted to stay here and wait for something that wasn't coming, that was their choice.

But Amanda refused to stand in the ashes of Andrea's fall and do nothing.

Her voice came out hoarse, raw. "We need to move."

No response.

She turned slightly, looking back at them. Some of them looked at her. Some didn't.

"We can't stay here." She tried again, her voice steadier this time. "Andrea told us to run, so we run. We find somewhere safe, we regroup, and we figure out what to do next."

An older man scoffed, shaking his head. "And then what? Pretend we don't know what just happened?"

Amanda clenched her jaw. "Pretending won't change anything. But standing here waiting for a miracle won't, either."

The man exhaled, but said nothing.

No one argued.

But no one moved, either.

They had already given up.

Amanda inhaled sharply, swallowing down the frustration rising in her chest. Fine. Let them sit in their grief. Let them wallow in the idea that Andrea was gone forever.

She refused.

She turned and walked.

She didn't know where she was going.

She just knew she couldn't stay here.

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Somewhere far above, beyond the storm-cleared skies, the green god watched.

The war was over.

Andrea was sealed away. Forgotten. Erased.

He should have left by now, should have returned to the heavens with the others. The red, blazing god had disappeared in a burning arc across the sky long ago, and the golden god had lingered only long enough to confirm the seal held firmly.

But He…

He remained.

Watching.

His emerald gaze lingered on the mortals below, on the ones Andrea had fought for. The ones she had risked everything to protect.

His gaze landed on one in particular—the woman who had stood closest to the barrier.

Amanda.

She hadn't collapsed like the others. She hadn't fallen to her knees in prayer or despair.

She was still standing.

Still moving.

Something about it unsettled him.

His fingers curled slightly.

He should feel nothing. This was how it had to be.

Andrea was dangerous. She was a flaw. She cared too much.

This was the only way to restore balance.

Then why did it feel… wrong?

He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his tangled crown of vines.

"Did we make a mistake?" he asked himself. Unsure of his own actions

His gaze drifted back to Amanda—and then, suddenly, she looked up.

The god froze.

She shouldn't have been able to see him. No mortal could perceive a god unless they willed it.

And yet—

Amanda's gaze locked onto his like she knew he was there.

And behind her—

For just a moment—

A silhouette.

Faint. Ethereal. Flickering.

Blue light, shifting like the ocean beneath moonlight.

The shape of a woman standing just behind Amanda.

The god took a step back. 

Impossible.

The moment passed. The vision faded.

But Amanda's lips parted slightly, and then—

"You hesitated."

Her voice was quiet. Just loud enough to reach him.

The god stiffened. Not in fear but in something else entirely new. An emotion he had thought that only mortals could feel.

His hands curled into fists.

For the first time in centuries, something foreign settled in his chest.

Doubt.

Andrea was gone.

Amanda knew that.

But she could still feel her. And so could he.

The moment she had looked to the sky, the moment she had locked eyes with something that shouldn't have been there—

She had heard a whisper.

Soft. Distant.

"Amanda."

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep walking.

She didn't know if it was real.

She didn't know if she was imagining things.

But she knew one thing:

Andrea had fought for them.

Now it was Amanda's turn.

And one day—she would make the gods pay for what they did.