Year 3917 of the Almanac of Ages, in a remote rural region

I turned and walked away from the battlefield, my steps light on the still-smoldering earth. The air vibrated with residual energy, every molecule charged with the power I had unleashed. Behind me, the terrified whispers of the peasants mingled with the wind like desperate prayers to gods who would never answer—gods who, perhaps, were too wise to listen.

I shouldn't have lost control like that. Not like this. Not in front of them. The perfect void left by the fortress haunted me with its presence—or rather, with its absence. A black hole in the fabric of reality, a monument to my anger, my impatience. The earth around the void was vitrified, crystallized into impossible shapes that hurt the eyes. I could have handled those bandits in more subtle, more elegant ways. Instead, I had chosen to unleash a power that had almost consumed me, just to prove... what, exactly?

"Well done, Malachai," I muttered to myself with a bitter smile as I entered the woods. The leaves recoiled at my passing, as if sensing the echo of power still pulsing through my veins. "A discreet return, you said. Nothing flashy, you said. Pretend to be a simple wanderer... And here you are, after erasing a fortress from existence in front of twenty terrified witnesses. Really subtle."

The runes on my skin still tingled, an annoying reminder of the price paid. Each step made the symbols undulate beneath the surface, like restless serpents writhing under my flesh. Centuries of life compressed into mere moments of devastating fury. I could still taste the metallic flavor of magic on my tongue, a taste as ancient and familiar as my own blood. The terrified faces of the peasants were branded in my mind like burn marks—their expressions a mixture of horror and veneration I knew all too well.

The village chief's son came back to my mind—his blind courage, his senseless death. The glassy eyes staring at a sky he could no longer see. I could have saved him, had I intervened sooner. If I hadn't waited to see how far they would go. If I hadn't wanted them to learn that cruel lesson the hard way.

The sun began to set, and with it, they came. As always.

Did you hear how they trembled before you? How they knelt?

A honeyed whisper, almost seductive, sliding into my mind like poisoned honey. My steps slowed involuntarily, dead leaves crackling under my boots.

"Oh, please," I tried to keep my tone light, but the words came out tenser than intended, sharp as broken glass. "After eight hundred years, you could at least be more creative."

There's no need to be creative when speaking the truth, Malachai. You saw them. You saw how they looked at you. Not as a mad old man. Not as a wanderer. But as what you truly are.

I stopped. I didn't want to, but I stopped. The voices always knew when to strike, curse them. They knew every crack in my armor, every weakness in my defenses.

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"Yes, they looked at me as one looks at a monster," I replied, stubbornly resuming my walk. The tree shadows stretched like spectral fingers in the twilight. "Congratulations to me."

A monster? No... like a god. Like someone who could protect them. Guide them. You didn't just see fear in their eyes, you saw hope.

This time my step faltered longer. The voices never lied—and that was their greatest power. I had seen that spark. That damned spark of worship mixed with terror, a gleam I knew too well.

"Hope is as dangerous as fear," I muttered, but found myself looking back toward the valley. The smoke had cleared, but the air continued to vibrate with residual energy, a tangible reminder of the power I had unleashed.

More dangerous. More seductive. How many years have you spent hiding? Pretending to be less than what you are? And for what? To protect them... or yourself?

I stopped again, this time leaning against a tree. The wood groaned under my touch, the runes pulsing stronger now, as if responding to an ancestral call.

"Really clever tonight, eh?" My laugh sounded fragile even to my own ears, an empty sound lost in the evening wind. "Usually you limit yourselves to 'dominate' and 'destroy'. You're learning."

We've always been this way. You're the one who's starting to truly listen.

The sun had almost set now, tinting the sky a dark red that reminded me too much of spilled blood. The path to Kyrwood was lost in the growing darkness, and with it my initial determination. The voices were right—that was the problem with them. They were always, damnably right.

I sighed, pulling a small green glass vial from an inner pocket of my cloak. I rolled it between my fingers, watching the liquid inside catch the last rays of the dying sun. It was one of many I had prepared for my original plan—common potions, simple remedies, the kind of things one would expect from a traveling alchemist.

"Kyrwood is large, at least it was the last time I passed through," I muttered to myself, my voice barely more than a whisper in the evening wind. "No one knows me there yet. I could still be what I had planned—just another traveling alchemist, studying the changes of this new century. Observe. Understand. Act only when necessary." My voice came out more uncertain than I wanted, as if I were trying to convince myself of a lie too big to believe.

"A dry place to sleep," I muttered, more to myself than to them. "That's all I wanted. A dry and quiet place."

You could have palaces. You could have kingdoms.

"Instead, I have terrible feet aches and voices in my head that don't know when to shut up," I retorted, but the sarcasm sounded increasingly forced, like a mask slowly crumbling. I resumed walking, more slowly now, each step a compromise with myself.

The power you showed today... was just a taste. You know it. We know it.

"The power I showed today was far too much," I whispered, but the words sounded hollow. False. Like promises made knowing they couldn't be kept.

It was exactly what it needed to be. The first step.

The voices finally fell silent. They didn't need to speak anymore. They had planted the seed, as they always did. And as I resumed walking in the darkness, the runes pulsed on my skin like a second heartbeat, a rhythm as ancient as the power they contained.

After all, it hadn't gone so badly, had it? The worst that could happen... well, I probably hadn't seen it yet.

And this time it was my thought, not the voices'—and that, perhaps, was what frightened me the most.