The birds chirp over the peaceful valley, not a cloud in sight as a silhouette staggers towards a ruined statue, searching for help. Ezrah wanted help, she needed help, and only the gods would give it. As she stumbles along the forgotten path she almost collapses at the base of the statue, kneeling as her armour clangs against the stone worshiping site. The statue is unrecognizable, only the intricately carved boots and helmet remains of the body. The statue's sword leans at an odd angle, threatening to fall at any moment, but she cares not for the state of the statue, she begins to pray to the old god, not knowing who it belonged to, only knowing she would give anything to see her guild survive the battle. As she prays the sky darkens, storm clouds forming and circling overhead, threatening to form a tornado. Yet she continues praying, even as thunder rings out, it's not until a bolt of blood red lightning strikes near the statue that she finally understands just who she is asking for help, and yet she persists. Another bolt of red lightning travels down, heading straight for the remains of the statue, but as it strikes the leaning sword it deflects as if incapable of bearing the accursed object. War drums begin to sound as the circling clouds intensify, the drums at first mimicking Ezrahs own heart rate, until it slows, turning to the tempo of a battle. Then, as if silenced by the gods themselves, all sounds cease as the eye of the storm overhead opens, golden light shining for a moment before turning blood red as a golden meteor falls from the eye, striking the ground just behind Ezrah, causing her to tumble away.

 As the dust clears it reveals the form of a woman standing tall, a greatsword in her clasped hands with its tip firmly planted in the ground. The woman wears a dark set of intricate platemail armour without a helm, her red hair appearing as a fire cloaked around her, obeying only her. Wrapped around her form is a deep blue cloak, with the war goddesses symbol embroidered in glowing golden threads, two opposing swords dripping with blood. The woman opens her eyes, revealing a bright golden glow, her expression almost neutral save for a barely detectable grin as she stares down at Ezrah, despite being on lower ground. After a few seconds to take in Ezrahs form the woman speaks, her voice causing the storm overhead to shudder and crackle, “little mortal, why have you called me?” Her tone sent shivers down Ezrahs spine, as if every warrior in history held their blades against her throat. Attempting to swallow her fear she answers the god, “E-Edia, goddess of war.. I.. I have come seeking your aid.. My guild is embroiled in battle… But they will never win.. Please..” Tears begin to form in her eyes, fearing what may have already occurred while she sought help, “Save my guild.. I beg of you..” The goddess stares down at her for a moment before she turns her head to look in the direction the battle would be taking place, her cloak slowly staining with the blood of the fallen as the battle rages, “little one, i know of every battle. So tell me..” Edia turns back to Ezrah, the golden glow of her eyes dimming, revealing the blood red irises underneath, giving her the visage of a demon instead of a god, “Why should I help your guild? Many have begged for my help and I have refused, so, why should you and your guild be saved?” Ezrah swallows her courage down, knowing what she must do, “I.. I have not killed.. I am a healer.. H-However.. I will give you my first kill.. And I will be in your service until my debt is repaid” She declares, the raging storm calms for a moment, as if in shock of her promise. Edia’s neutral expression fades into a sinister grin, “Good, I only accept the service of those who have resolve,” She lifts her hand from the pommel of her sword and places it under Ezrahs chin, “And you have proven yourself and your tenacity.” the golden glow of Edias eyes flashes as her godly magic activates, “you should sleep little one, know that your guild will be safe, Their fate is assured.” As she speaks Ezrah’s eyes drop, as her mind is overcome with exhaustion forcing her to sleep right there at the base of the statue. As Ezrah lays unconscious Edia turns to the direction of the battle, her form rippling and growing as her Human form dissipates and grows as she adopts her true Godly form.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

A plateau ripples and echoes with furious battles, the once peaceful village of paladins and healers perched on the mountaintop now nothing but smoldering ruins as the residents fight the invaders. As the last few survivors of the village are knocked down ready to be executed, the ground trembles and shakes in bursts, as the giant form of Edia scales the mountain, now nothing but a small incline to her, her form blotting out the sun and causing every witness to freeze in fear as she approaches, the storm following her presence causing the landscape tp appear as a nightmare, as the blood red lightning strikes the village and invaders indiscriminately. Her steps throw massive amounts of dirt and rubble as if it were twigs and leaves, she stops in the center of the village, as the storm rages with more fury she raises her greatsword, its tip pointing down to the village square below as lightning strikes at the pommel of the sword. Finally she plunges it into the earth below, it sinks deep into the ground, making the ground quake from the wound until it slows to a stop, as it does the toll of a bell sounds three times. At the third toll the visage of a clock face shines from the hilt of the sword, the seconds hand flicking forward suddenly and abruptly stops as the lightning overhead freezes in time, as does the whole world. And without warning, the seconds hand begins ticking again, only in the wrong direction, slowly it speeds up, the minute hand following suit as does the hour hand, until it makes a full revolution. The clock face slows and stops with a mechanical thud as the bell sounds again, with the third sound the clock face explodes into a blinding white light that encompasses everyone nearby, as the light fades the village is as it was the day before, and every soul is in their bed, just before the day were to begin. At the top of the mountain is another crumbling statue, this one holding a greathammer instead, and at the base of the statue lays the unconscious, yet stirring form of Ezrah, face still wet with the tears she shed begging for the goddesses help.