Three days after the match, Aerax was still alive — though no one could believe it.The bone fractures, bruises, and pools of clotted blood kept him from standing upright. But he crawled. He dragged himself along, washed his face with freezing runoff, ate crumbs fallen to the ground, and licked water from cracks in the wall.A starved, feral thing, unwilling to die — fueled by fury and sheer, ferocious will.
On the fourth night, when the prison hall lay in deep sleep, he heard a whisper.
"You cannot die."
The voice was raspy, like wind slipping through stone. Aerax turned, and for the first time, noticed the shackled cell — the one where they kept the mad, or the broken, useless slaves, forgotten forever.
There, unmoving amid her chains, sat a figure.Eyes clouded but wide open.An old woman, her skin a map of deep lines, her back hunched. But unlike the stench of filth and decay that hung over the others, a faint fragrance clung to her — the trace of some fragrant oil, as though she were not truly a slave.
Aerax said nothing, but his gaze was wary, questioning.The old woman smiled.
"You saw it, didn't you?"
"Saw what?" he croaked.
"The light. Above you. In that moment when you looked up."
Aerax fell silent.
"It wasn't an illusion, young one. It was an invitation."
"I'm no chosen one," Aerax muttered. "I'm just refuse."
"It's because you believe that... that the Gods chose you."
She tilted her head.
"You weren't born to die in chains. You were born to find the Shifting Temple — an ancient sanctuary that never stays in one place, always moving. It only reveals itself to those who are called."
Aerax breathed hard. He didn't understand — but his heart was racing, stirred by something he couldn't name.
"That temple holds the power to turn a mortal into a god."
"You're mocking me."
"No," she said, placing a hand on her chest."You were born marked — chosen to ascend."
Aerax took a step back. Cold sweat trickled down his spine.He wanted to leave — but her eyes held him in place.
"Do you want to live?Want revenge?Freedom?To be desired? To stand as an equal among gods?"
Aerax swallowed hard.
"Then listen well. At the next Blood Moon, the Temple will appear once more at the southern edge of the land. You must escape this place. At any cost."
"I can't—"
"You will. Because your fate isn't forged by chains.It's forged by the fire inside you."
And then the old woman laughed — a wild, unhinged laugh, echoing like wind from some ancient mountain.
As Aerax turned to leave, he noticed something behind her on the stone wall — a strange symbol drawn in blood. It looked like a ritual sigil.
He didn't sleep that night.And by dawn, for the first time, sunlight touched his face — and in its glow, reflected a different pair of eyes.