Chapter 2: The Whisper of Power

The slum alley was silent now, save for the ragged breathing of the guards sprawled on the ground. Their bodies trembled, eyes rolled back in their skulls as if something had hollowed them out from the inside.

Aedric stood still, his fingers tingling with an unfamiliar sensation—power, raw and intoxicating. His heartbeat slowed, his hunger momentarily forgotten. He didn't understand what had just happened, but one thing was certain: it was no accident.

"Do you feel it?"

The whisper returned, curling around his mind like a serpent. Aedric stiffened, his gaze darting around the alley. The voice was close, yet distant—inside him, yet beyond.

"Fear not, child. You are chosen."

Aedric swallowed hard. His entire life had been spent in the gutters, powerless against the whims of stronger men. But now, something inside him had changed. He could feel it coiling in his chest, humming beneath his skin.

"What… what did you do to me?" he muttered.

"I have merely awakened what was always there," the voice said. "A gift, buried deep in your blood. You are more than just a slum rat, Aedric. You are meant for more."

Aedric clenched his fists. "Who are you?"

"A forgotten god. A king without a throne. But that is of no concern to you—yet."

Aedric's gaze flickered to the fallen guards. They still twitched, their mouths opening and closing like gasping fish. He hadn't even touched them.

He took a cautious step forward. One of the men, the one who had called him a rat, flinched at the sight of him. Aedric's lips curled slightly.

For the first time, they were afraid of him.

He knelt beside the man, tilting his head. "What did I do to you?"

The guard groaned, his pupils dilated with terror. His lips quivered as he stammered, "Your… your eyes… golden… like the gods… Please…"

Golden? Aedric blinked and caught a flicker of his reflection in a nearby puddle. For a brief moment, his irises shimmered with molten gold, before fading back to their usual dull brown.

Aedric exhaled sharply. He wasn't dreaming. This was real.

"This is only the beginning," the voice whispered. "Your power is still weak, but in time, you will command more than just fear."

Aedric straightened. He had no time to question the voice now. He needed to leave before more guards arrived.

His fingers curled around the stolen loaf of bread, now slightly damp from the rain. The old Aedric would have been trembling, running, afraid. But the new Aedric—whatever he had become—simply turned and walked away, his heart steady.

As he disappeared into the shadows of Velmire's slums, one thought burned in his mind.

"No one will ever look down on me again."