The words remained lodged in Arteus's throat, his eyes glued to the retreating form of Ava. Her revelation had hit him like a thunderclap in the middle of a silent night. Goddess? Impossible.

But as he watched her vanish into the forest, the unmistakable power of her healing and the eerie transformation of the fleur deer's corpse convinced him otherwise.

It was then that Castrol and Wyatt emerged from atop the curtain of water, their eyes wide with shock and disbelief at the carnage that lay before them.

"Arteus, are you okay?" Castrol asked as the boy remained still, frozen in place, and staring after Ava's retreating figure.

What?

...A short while later, Arteus's group found themselves following Ava through the dense, frostbitten foliage of the forest, the shadows of the trees stretching out like icy fingers reaching for them. The journey had been swift and silent, the girl's unearthly grace guiding them through the labyrinth of trunks and underbrush with an ease that seemed almost supernatural. The trek to the outskirts of Sovereign had taken no more than a heartbeat and a whisper of the wind in the leaves, yet the weight of their encounter with the corrupted fleur deer remained as palpable as the chilling air.

The decision to forego their meal of the deer's flesh was an easy one. The creature's corruption had seeped into their very essence, leaving a foul taste in their mouths and a sense of foreboding in their hearts. Instead, they had chosen to press on to the Holy City with Ava, the self-proclaimed goddess of these lands. The promise of refuge in Sovereign had been too alluring, a beacon of hope amidst the chaos wrought by the prophecy. The thought of rest and safety within the city's walls was like a warm fire in the middle of the bitter night.

Yet, as they drew closer to the city, their hearts grew heavier than the snow that clung to the boughs above. The once majestic walls of Sovereign were scarred and broken, as if ravaged by the very hands of the prophecy itself. The grandeur that should have greeted them was marred by the stark reality of the prophecy's wrath. The ivory towers, once gleaming like teeth in the sun, were now cracked and stained, their beauty tarnished by the dark whispers of the divine.

The city guard that patrolled the ramparts, once a bastion of order and protection, now moved with the weary gait of those who had seen too much. Their armor, though gleaming, bore the scars of recent battles, and their eyes held the haunted look of men who had faced the abyss and lived to tell the tale. Yet, amidst the despair, their posture remained stoic, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit.

As they delved deeper into the city, the true extent of the prophecy's toll became apparent. The streets, once bustling with life, were now eerily silent. The buildings, once a symphony of color and craftsmanship, were now dull and lifeless, their vibrant hues faded to a uniform pallor. The eyes of the citizens of Sovereign, though, were what truly broke their hearts.

They walked with their heads tilted downwards, as if the weight of their grief was too heavy a burden to bear upright. Their gazes, once bright with the promise of a world untouched by the prophecy's shadow, were now clouded with a sadness so deep it was palpable. The children, who should have been playing and laughing, instead moved in a solemn procession, a silent funeral march for the innocence that had been stolen from them.

The shops, once bursting with the vibrant hues of spices and fabrics from distant lands, were now shuttered and forlorn, the wares within gathering dust. The cobblestone streets that had once rung with the cheerful cacophony of barter and banter were now silent but for the crunch of their own footsteps, each step a mournful echo of what Sovereign had been. The city, once a bastion of hope and prosperity, had been transformed into a mausoleum, a living testament to the prophecy's inescapable grip.

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There was no hope to be found in Sovereign.

"Welcome, survivors of Barley!"

The words boomed out like a bell tolling in the quiet streets of Sovereign, and the procession froze in their tracks. A figure emerged from the shadows, a stark contrast to the mournful scene around them. Her eyes, a piercing blue that seemed to sparkle like the first snowflakes of winter, were filled with a warmth that seemed to pierce the very soul. Kathleen Bower, a woman of robust stature with a smile that could melt the coldest of hearts, stood before them, her arms outstretched in a gesture of welcome.

Next to her loomed a man, his head shaved bare, his eyes as intense as the flames that had once danced in the now abandoned forges of the city. Samuel, she called him, her son, his muscles rippling beneath his fur cloak like the very fabric of the world itself. His gaze swept over the group, assessing them with a sharpness that could cut through the fog of war itself.

"Lord of Sovereign?" Arteus mused upon hearing her title.

"Lady, actually," Kathleen corrected with a warm smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling like the pages of an ancient tome. "But I suspect titles matters little in these troubled times."

"What brings you to Sovereign?" Kathleen inquired, her eyes scanning the tattered and weary group.

"What does not?" Millie retorted with a forced joviality. "The world has turned to ash and we thought we might find solace in the embrace of the thieves and whores of your fair city."

Kathleen's smile grew broader, the warmth in her eyes belying the gravity of her words.

"Ah, Millie," she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up like the stars that had long ago abandoned the prophecy-stricken sky. "I am so relieved to see you've made it!"

"You always were one for a jest. But that aside i'm glad you're here, you all are welcome here." She said softly.

"Since you are in charge, I take it old Roger has kicked the bucket?" Millie asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Indeed," Kathleen replied, her eyes misting over. "But do not mourn him overly. His was a gentle exit from this harsh world."

The mention of Roger, the city's former lord, brought a somber note to their exchange. His peaceful passing, a rare event in these tumultuous times, served as a poignant reminder of the fleeting nature of life.

The solemnity of the moment was shattered by the practical need to address the immediate.

"Come," Kathleen beckoned, "Let us attend to your needs. Food, water, and shelter await within."

Her words were a balm to their weary spirits, and without further ado, the group shuffled towards the town hall, their eyes drawn to the warm light that spilled from its windows like a beacon in the dark night. The grandiose structure, though marred by the prophecy's touch, still stood proud, a silent sentinel over the city.

The heavy oak doors creaked open to reveal a warm, candlelit chamber within. The scent of roasting meat and baking bread wafted out to greet them, making their stomachs growl in anticipation. The walls were adorned with tapestries that told the story of Sovereign's storied past, each thread a testament to the city's former glory.

Finally, some respite from the cold and horror of the journey.

The warmth of the town hall was like a warm embrace, a stark contrast to the frigid air outside. The group, along with Ava, the mysterious 'goddess', followed Kathleen and Samuel into the chamber. The warmth seeped into their bones, chasing away the chill that had clung to them like a second skin. They were ushered to a long wooden table, laden with food and drink, and for a brief moment, it was as if the prophecy had never existed.

But as they sat down to eat, Arteus couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right. He couldn't put his finger on it, but his gut told him to stay on edge. As he tore into a warm loaf of bread, his eyes darted to the corner of the room. From the periphery of his vision, he caught sight of a figure, shrouded in darkness, watching them intently. The figure was that of Tobias Kingg, huddled in conversation with Sovereign's self-proclaimed goddess, Ava.

What could the 'savior' of Barley, and a 'divine being' such as Ava possibly have in common?

-To Be Continued-