The wind was cold as it whipped through Gershion’s hair, Toby’s wings slicing through the heavy clouds as they sped toward Nyamekrom. His heart pounded with urgency, Miss Fiona’s bloodstained note clutched tightly in his fist. Anger boiled inside him—anger at the Hell Bringers, at the Oracle, and at the village that had betrayed him. But above all, anger at the forces that dared to take the woman who had given him a home when no one else would.
From the skies, Nyamekrom appeared tranquil, nestled in a deep valley surrounded by mountains. But Gershion could sense the suffocating energy that clung to the village. Darkness was festering beneath the surface, concealed by the villagers' ignorance.
Toby descended swiftly, his massive form casting a shadow over the village as he landed on the outskirts. Dust swirled as the dragon’s claws dug into the earth, and the villagers scattered, retreating into their homes in fear of the massive creature. But they weren’t just running from Toby—they were running from what they had been told Gershion represented: the cursed boy, the bringer of misfortune.
Gershion dismounted, his boots crunching against the gravel path. He felt the weight of eyes watching him from every direction. These people, his so-called kin, had been led to believe that they were powerless—reliant on the false god of the river, Tupre, unaware of the celestial strength that lay dormant within them. He knew now that this ignorance had been cultivated, a deliberate manipulation by the Hell Bringers and their puppet, the Oracle. It was all part of their twisted scheme to weaken the Light Realm by spreading self-doubt and fear.
Before Gershion could take another step, a voice rang out, sharp and filled with contempt. “You’ve returned, cursed one.”
From the shadows stepped the Oracle of Nyamekrom. Her robes billowed around her like the fog that clung to the village, and her eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. Behind her stood a group of villagers, their expressions dull, vacant. They weren’t mindless puppets—but they had been brainwashed to believe that their only hope of salvation lay in their devotion to Tupre and their fear of Gershion.
“I’ve come for Miss Fiona,” Gershion said, his voice steady despite the fury burning inside him. “Where is she?”
The Oracle smiled coldly, her lips curling into a sneer. “She’s safe, for now. But why should you care? You abandoned her the moment you left for Genesis, left her to face the consequences of raising the cursed boy. This village has suffered because of you, Gershion. Nyamekrom has been forsaken.”
“Forsaken?” Gershion scoffed. “You’re the one who’s been feeding them lies. You’ve made them forget the power they have as celestials. You and the Hell Bringers are nothing but cowards, preying on their fear.”
The Oracle’s eyes darkened at his words. “You think you understand, but you don’t. The people of this village have chosen the path of survival, and Tupre offers them protection. They have no need of the light you speak of.”
Gershion’s gaze swept over the villagers behind her. They were not cursed, not broken—just deceived. They had been led to believe they were weak, that they had no choice but to rely on false gods and empty traditions, all the while the Hell Bringers worked to erode the strength of the Light Realm. The Oracle had convinced them that any connection to their celestial heritage was dangerous, that reliance on Tupre would shield them from harm.
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But the truth was darker. The Hell Bringers had received orders after Gershion defeated Astaroth and sealed the rift in the Genesis portal. Panic had spread through the Dark Realm when they realized someone with the power to destroy one of their most feared archdemons was alive. Desperate to locate this threat, they ordered the Hell Bringers to research every celestial who had entered the Genesis portal. And Gershion, with his unique celestial birthmark, fit the profile perfectly. Their spies in Genesis had confirmed the terrifying truth: Gershion had Astaroth’s sword, and he alone had sealed the rift
The Oracle’s manipulation of the people of Nyamekrom to kidnap Miss Fiona was part of a larger plan to trap Gershion, draw him out, and destroy him before he could disrupt the Dark Realm’s ambitions any further. That’s why they had captured Miss Fiona. She was the bait.
“The Hell Bringers don’t care about this village,” Gershion said, his voice filled with defiance. “They only want me. You’ve sold out your own people to dark forces that will destroy everything. But I won’t let that happen.”
The Oracle’s smile faltered for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. “You speak as if you have a choice. The people of this village trust me, not you. They believe in Tupre’s protection. You’re nothing but an outcast here.”
“Because you’ve blinded them.” Gershion’s voice rose, his anger flaring. “You’ve made them forget who they really are. These people are celestials, not helpless mortals. They don’t need your lies, and they sure as hell don’t need Tupre.”
The Oracle’s expression hardened, and she raised her hand. From behind her, more villagers appeared, armed with simple weapons—spears, bows, and knives. They were not warriors, but they believed they were defending their home from a threat.
“You will not leave this village alive, Gershion,” the Oracle said coldly. “The Hell Bringers have decreed it, and the forces of the Dark Realm demand your death.”
Gershion’s jaw tightened as the villagers advanced toward him, their faces blank, their minds clouded by the Oracle’s lies. He didn’t want to hurt them. They weren’t his enemies—they were victims. But he had no intention of dying here, not when Miss Fiona’s life was at stake.
“I’m not afraid of the Hell Bringers,” Gershion said, his voice firm. “And I’m not afraid of you.”
The Oracle’s eyes flashed with fury, and she raised her hand to strike. But before she could, a roar echoed from the sky, and Toby, the two-headed dragon, leaped into the fray. With a single powerful sweep of his wings, he scattered the villagers, sending them tumbling to the ground.
The Oracle’s eyes widened in shock as Toby landed beside Gershion, his massive form towering over the village.
“You’re out of time,” Gershion said, his voice low and dangerous. “Now tell me where Miss Fiona is, or I’ll tear this village apart to find her.”
The Oracle’s face twisted in rage, but she knew she was outmatched. With a snarl, she stepped back, her hands trembling with barely concealed fury.
“She’s at the temple by the river,” the Oracle spat.
A young man shouted on top of his voice to Gershion “if you go there, you will not leave alive. The Hell Bringers have already set up trapsome there. They want to destroy you brother.”
Gershion gaze softened as the voice sounded very familiar. He looked through the crowd and saw a young man and woman in tattered clothes pinned down by the villagers.
Gershion’s eyes blazed with determination as he turned toward the direction of the temple. “I will go and safe her even if it means sacrificing my life, but before I go...”