In the days that followed, as the dust of battle settled over the ravaged city, Arteus and Ava could not help but feel the weight of their victory. The creature was no more, the false prophet had met his end, and the people of Sovereign looked to them with hope in their eyes—a hope that was as fragile as the first snowflake of spring.

The two of them had become the beating heart of the city's rebirth, their deeds a testament to the indomitable spirit of those who refuse to bow to tyranny. Together, they rolled up their sleeves and set to work, their hands now wielding hammers and saws rather than weapons of war. The square, once a crimson canvas of death, was now a bustling hive of activity as the citizens of Sovereign worked tirelessly to rebuild what had been torn down.

The residents of Barley, having survived the harsh embrace of winter, brought their unique blend of resilience and resourcefulness to the table. Their integration into the city was swift and seamless, their shared grief and determination a powerful bond that transcended their former divisions. The barriers of class and status that had once existed were now but shadows in the past, forgotten relics of a time when fear and ignorance had held sway.

In the city's makeshift prison, the nobles who had once feasted on the labors of the common folk now found themselves shackled, their once proud faces etched with lines of despair. They had been brought low by the very chaos they had sought to manipulate, their schemes crumbling like the very stones that had formed their opulent palaces. The jail was a stark reminder of the reversal of fortunes, a place where the cries of the powerless now echoed in the ears of the powerful.

Castrol, the village chief of Barley, and Millie, his mother, had survived the tumultuous events that had ravaged the land, emerging as the last bastions of nobility in the eyes of Sovereign's people. Their valor and unyielding spirit had earned them a place at the top of the city's social ladder, a position that had been decimated by the recent chaos. With the false prophet's reign of terror vanquished, the citizens looked to them for guidance in a world that had been irrevocably changed by the prophecy of the Second Birth.

Yet, amidst the somber mood of the rebuilding efforts, there was a sense of camaraderie that transcended the gloom. Laughter, though rare, could be heard in the marketplaces as children played games, their giggles piercing the heavy silence that had once choked the streets. The air was filled with the scent of new beginnings—the tang of freshly cut lumber, the aroma of stew cooking over open fires, and the faint, sweet smell of blooming flowers that defied the harshness of the thawing earth.

But the memory of the apocalypse lurked at the edges of their consciousness, a specter that could not be banished by the warmth of friendship or the promise of a new day. The buildings that stood tall and proud bore the scars of the recent battle—charred beams and shattered windows that whispered of the chaos that had once reigned. The snow that had once been a pristine white now held the stains of the creature's wrath, a stark reminder that even the purest of lands could not escape the taint of the cosmic struggle that had unfolded before them.

Yet, in the face of such desolation, Arteus and Ava had become the shining beacons of hope. They patrolled the city's perimeter, their eyes ever vigilant for the faintest hint of the beasts that had once plagued the lands. With every step they took, their very presence seemed to repel the shadows that sought to claim the city once more. Their unity had become the embodiment of the prophecy's promise—a bond forged in the fires of adversity that could not be broken by the icy grip of fate.

The creatures that dared to challenge this newfound peace were met with a swift and decisive response. At the first snarl of a predator in the night, the air would crackle with the anticipation of Ava's fiery wrath, her eyes burning with a passion that could melt the very hearts of those who opposed her. And Arteus, ever the stoic guardian, would stand firm, his axe gleaming in the moonlight, a silent testament to the strength of his resolve. The very earth seemed to tremble with his footsteps as he moved with a grace that defied his size, a silent sentinel that sent the beasts fleeing in terror.

But it was not just in battle that the two had found their calling. In the quiet moments between the chaos, as the city of Sovereign took its first tentative steps towards rebuilding, Arteus sought out a much-too-eager-to-help Wyatt Redstone and the prisoners of the battle of Sovereign for information regarding their leader, Tobias. His mind was a whirl of questions that needed answers, a puzzle whose pieces refused to fit no matter how hard he tried. What had led this madman to Sovereign? What twisted path had he walked that had led him to embrace the dark whispers of the prophecy?

From what Arteus had gathered during his interrogations, Tobias had indeed claimed to speak to some divine entity, though the god's name remained elusive, wrapped in whispers and fearful glances. His followers spoke in hushed tones of a deity that promised power and salvation to those who adhered to its will, a being that had chosen the mad prophet to usher in a new era of enlightenment. But as Arteus pieced together the tapestry of lies and deceit, he could feel the threads of truth tangling with the fabric of madness. The god that Tobias had served was probably not a god at all...

Visions had come to Tobias in a fevered haze, a cacophony of images that danced in his mind's eye like a macabre ballet. He had seen the world bathed in fire and blood, a world that would be cleansed of its sins, only to rise anew from the ashes. And in the center of it all, a weapon of unparalleled power—a tool that could reshape the very fabric of reality. It was this weapon that he had been sent to Sovereign to find.

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It was only after Tobias had reached Sovereign that the 'almighty' god he spoke to had changed it's mind about the weapon's location to the neighbouring boon of Qliax. Doesn't sound very 'godly' and 'all-knowing', does it?

Arteus sought out Tobias from Barley, for more information on the Second Birth and what the tomes of the Avarician faith had to say about his birthright. But all he got was the location of a supposed weapon and the realization that the man was a bonafide lunatic.

The decision to leave Sovereign and head to the Kingdom of Avarice was the next obvious step for Arteus. It was the only place he knew of that could hold the key to understanding the prophecy of the Second Birth and the mysterious realm of All-Sky. But more importantly, 'how' to get to All-sky...

...A few weeks had passed since the battle, and the city had begun to heal. The air was no longer thick with the stench of burning flesh and magic, but rather the sweet scent of freshly baked bread and blooming flowers. The people of Sovereign had rallied together in a display of unity and strength that had not been seen in generations, their hearts filled with hope and gratitude for their saviors.

Arteus had spent his days tirelessly working alongside the townsfolk, repairing the damage wrought by the creature and the corrupted prophet. His axe, once a symbol of destruction, had become a tool of creation as he helped to rebuild the city's defenses. Each swing of the hammer, each chipped stone placed back into the wall, was a testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the power of hope.

As the days grew longer and the first hints of spring kissed the land, Arteus knew that the time had come to leave Sovereign. The fortifications, though scarred and weakened, had been bolstered with a determination that could stand against any storm. The city was as ready as it could ever be for whatever fate had in store for it. His eyes searched the horizon, as if seeking permission from the very land itself to continue his quest.

He stood at the northern gate, a satchel filled with supplies and hope slung over his shoulder, the weight of the world seemingly lighter with each passing day. The sun had just begun to crest over the horizon, casting long shadows that stretched out like fingers reaching for the warmth of the day. The air was crisp and clean, carrying the scent of melting snow and the promise of new life. The early morning light played across the steel of his axe, a silent sentinel at his side.

Lilly approached him, her eyes filled with a mix of concern and admiration. Her hand hovered over his arm, but she did not touch him, as if she were afraid to break the spell of resolve that surrounded him. "Arteus," she began, her voice soft and tentative, "are you sure about this? Leaving Sovereign..."

He turned to her, his gaze steady and unwavering. "More than anything," he said, his voice firm. "My fate is not to settle into the quiet rhythms of this life, to watch the seasons turn and grow old with the passing years. Finding all-sky should be my number one priority right now."

Millie, who was beside Lilly, stepped closer, her eyes reflecting the wisdom of her years. "But what if All-Sky does not exist?" she asked, her voice tinged with the weight of doubt. "What if it's just a myth, a fairy tale woven by desperate minds to give hope to the hopeless?"

Arteus took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving hers. "Then I will return," he said solemnly, "and I will settle down, as you both wish. I will find a quiet corner of the world to call my own and live out my days in peace." His voice was firm, but there was a softness to it, a promise that he meant every word.

But for now, the whispers of destiny called him elsewhere. He had been born with the weight of a prophecy upon his shoulders, a burden that he could not ignore. His heart swelled with a mix of dread and excitement as he thought of the journey ahead—the treacherous lands of Avaricia, the secrets that lay hidden within its ancient tomes, and the possibility of uncovering the truth behind the Second Birth.

For now, he would follow what he believes is his destiny and birthright.

With one last look at the city that could become his home, Arteus waved to Millie and Lilly, their faces etched with a mix of pride and fear. They had become something close to family in this tumultuous world, and leaving them was like tearing a piece of his soul away. Yet, the call of the second birth and the whispers of fate grew too loud to ignore. He took a step forward, his boots echoing against the cobblestone as he began his solitary march towards the northern horizon.

The square behind him grew quiet, the sounds of the city's rebirth muffled by the distance. It was as if the very air was holding its breath, watching him go. The rain had ceased, leaving a gentle mist to dance around the ruins, giving the illusion of a soft, ethereal veil being drawn across the battle-scarred landscape.

As Arteus took his first steps beyond the city gates, a feminine voice pierced the silence, carrying the sweetness of a lilac breeze. He paused, his hand resting on the pommel of his axe, and turned back to see who had called out to him.

"Hey, Art," the voice echoed again, softer this time, yet no less insistent. "Are you sure you won't regret leaving Sovereign?"

For a moment, he allowed himself to entertain the notion—a simple life within the city's walls, surrounded by friends and loved ones, his axe a relic of a past left behind.

But as he looked into the eyes of the person who called out to him, he knew that was not his path. "No," he said, his voice filled with a resignation that was as much for their benefit as his own. "I've never been meant for a life like this. This... this is not where I belong."

With a nod of understanding, the person slung a bag over their shoulder, the fabric whispering a mournful tune as it brushed against their cloak. Their eyes searched his, a silent conversation passing between them—a question, an answer, and a quiet acceptance. "If you say so," they murmured, and then they were moving, their boots crunching in the frosty grass as they strode ahead of him.

For a moment, Arteus felt his heart catch in his throat. He had not expected them to follow. "Where are you going?" he called after them, his voice a mix of surprise and concern.

"You're not the only one with a birthright y'know," the person said, their voice carrying a hint of defiance.

Arteus shook his head dismissively, the weight of his decision made clear. "Fine," he said, his voice resonating with the finality of a tolling bell. "To Qliax, to the Kingdom of Avarice."

And with that, two children of the fate had embarked on a journey that would span a year in totality. But they don't know that yet...

For now, Arteus and Ava-Louise Garnet, had left Sovereign.

-To Be Continued-