The streets of Newdan were quiet. The usual bustling atmosphere nowhere to be found. On these streets walked a lone man, papers clutched close to his chest, almost as if he was afraid of losing it. The night sky above him as he walked down an alley. 

He thought of his newborn, his wife having died after the boys birth. This had left him in shambles, making him feel a dutiful need to take care of this boy, for her sake. He was afraid. If he makes the wrong move, everything could be over, his life, the life of his newborn, all gone in mere moments. The gods would not be pleased with him, they would not find the information he held, not this, pleasant, to put it mildly. They would murder him, this is why he had to evacuate, find an escape.

There were six known gods, the gods of Tarillin. They lived in the heavenly realm of Qartha, said to be the land of the prosperous, filled with gold and gardens full of roses and cherry blossom trees. It is said to have the aroma of honey and that one would feel ecstasy upon walking these lands. Yet it is rumoured that once a mortal enters this realm, they would start to burn in agonising pain, and will burn as such for the rest of their lives.

The god of light, followed by the clergy and those seeking to help others, Arius. The god of darkness, worshipped by thieves and assassins and those that are mischievous, Lortha. The god of fire, worshipped by smiths and those who are courageous, Goulsor. The god of earth, worshipped by miners and those who seek wisdom, Halen. The god of air, worshipped by nomads and those who seek freedom, Ariel. The god of water, worshipped by fisherman and people who are fickle, Jalive.

These gods were worshipped across Tarrilin. If one was lucky enough they would receive a gift from the god, one to wield the power which they held. These people were called Vairin, the chosen by the gods and feared or praised by the mere mortals. They were seen as heroes, saviours. Yet they were feared, feared for their power. They were the Vairin.

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As he made his way into the dark decrepit building he thought of what this information meant, how this would change everything, everything they believed in. Everything would change, the fact that mortals could become more, more than what they were, and that the gods they worshipped were, in fact, only mortals.

If they only knew, if they only knew what he did. If only they knew. Knew that there was only one real god, only one god that created everything, that the gods they worshipped were all fake. If only they knew.

The ceiling if the building was quite high, the walls cracked and full of moss, it was unkept. The air was stale and damp. It was not the best of places to be, bit he had to be here, this was the only way. He could not stop thinking about his child, how he was probably sleeping peacefully in his bed with his uncle. He hoped he was safe, gods he hope he was safe. 

He had made it to the first floor before he was interrupted by a voice. A voice creaking in the darkness. He squinted to try and see who had spoken, yet he could see nobody in the dim toechlight. It was mere moments, mere moments and it was over.

He clawed at his neck as the blood spewed from his neck. His eyes were wide and his arms shaking. What had happened? He should have known this would happen. It was the risk he took when he discovered this, the risk he should not have taken. He had a newborn son damn it! It was over, his research had brought his demise.

He had caught a quick glimpse of the culprit who had caused this, the eyes so nonchalant, like it was merely business, like it was second nature. It was most likely a follower of Lortha. 

In his last moments he thought of his wife, he thought of his son. Damn it! He would never see his son again. “I’m sorry Ashel, I won’t be able to keep my promise after all.” He thought.

The tears streamed down his face as he lay there dying, his throat still dripping blood, his eyes going blank. It was over, it was all over.