Everything was cold and dark. Then, there was nothing.

  And that was how the world ended.

  Garyth Herus opened his eyes with a jolt, jerking upright. For a moment, he was utterly disoriented, then he took in his surroundings. He sat in a four poster bed in a room that was both familiar and a strange sight.

  As he straightened, his hair fell in front of his face—inky blue black strands mixed with golden streaks.

  Wait. Yellow… hair?

  Garyth pushed aside his covers and slipped out of bed, the cold morning air making the hairs on his legs stand up. The tiles were freezing against his bare feet as he padded over to a mirror in the corner of his room.

  WHAT IN THE ABYSS…?

  Sure enough, his hair was no longer purely blue-black like he’d known it to be all his life, but was streaked with gold. As he took a closer look at his surroundings, the undeniable truth was beginning to set in. Everything from the four poster bed to the tacky piss-coloured wallpaper that adorned the room was identical to the room he had stayed in at Greyrose castle, hundreds of years past. But that had been before the royal house had split into two houses and the castle renamed.

  Have I gone back in time? But that doesn’t explain my hair… I’ve never had such strangely coloured hair.

  As he was contemplating the situation, a rapid knock on the door drew his attention away.

  “Enter,” He said, hoping that whoever was knocking would confirm his suspicions.

  The door opened, revealing an old man with salt and pepper grey streaked hair combed back neatly and a well kept trim beard. He had warm brown eyes and a face lined with the marks of a long life lived.

  Zeke! He’s alive! Garyth thought, a strange joy resurfacing within him, That confirms my suspicions…

  Ezekiel Welwyn was the second son of the loyal vassal house Welwyn, who’d served the Herus family for generations.

  “Your Majesty, I have brought your tunic for the coronation celebratory parade. Also, your horse is readied as you have requested,” Zeke said, holding out a crimson and blue tunic that Garyth instantly recognized.

  Well, if I’ve been given this second chance… I’ll change EVERYTHING.

  <--<< >>-->

  “What a cruel and cold man Garyth Herus is… he completely changed after ascending.”

  “I know… I used to think he was a good man.”

  In the years that followed Garyth’s ascension, rumours began to spread far and wide as he began to implement his plan. It was not that those barbed comments did not bother him, but Garyth Herus was a man who had stared down death and bore the determination to undertake the arduous and quite possibly futile task of changing the course of Dargon’s future.

  On the night of the coronation parade, Garyth Herus did not sneak out to enjoy the Harvest Festival. He did not want Ariane to see the kind of man he was going to become in order to fulfil his goal.

  However, fate was a funny thing, and many years later, he crossed paths with her once again. And, like a fool, he fell for her again. But that was a decision that would later haunt him.

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  <--<< >>-->

  Their daughter had just been born, and Garyth began to look into forbidden magic. He’d spent too many years and made too few changes. If he couldn’t change Dargon’s fate, it would soon be destroyed. The people of Dargon were too divided, but Garyth was uncertain if he alone could rally the people of Dargon together. A second demon war would surely bring the people together, but the magic to open gates between the Abyss and Dargon was strictly forbidden.

  It was an unremarkable spring day when Garyth learned of the consequences of thwarting fate. One moment everything was fine, and the next there was a bright flash of light and a massive gaping hole in the side of their house and a crater in the ground. Emerging from the smoke of the crater was an archangel with pristine white wings and long flowing raven coloured hair, dressed in glittering silver armour and wielding a spear. He was a prominent figure in Dargonian legends—Heaven’s Executioner, Cassiel the First.

  “Under the godly rules of law, I am here to execute you, Human Mortal Garyth Herus, for the practice of forbidden magic,” Cassiel boomed out, his voice devoid of any emotion.

  An extreme and foreign fear filled his senses as Garyth’s mind raced to comprehend the situation. As Cassiel approached him, Garyth quickly reacted by raising a barrier around the remains of the house and using a powerful bolt of magic to push the archangel away.

  Cassiel was strong, but Garyth was stronger. However, Garyth was in possession of a weakness—actually, two weaknesses—that would become his downfall. At first Cassiel had been honourable to keep the fight between the two of them, but as he began to fall back, the archangel’s shrewd eyes noticed the people that Garyth Herus was protecting. It was a low blow as the archangel switched his target and shot a barbed magic missile from the tip of his spear after he tore through Garyth’s barrier. It was already too late by the time Garyth caught wind of his plans and Ariane had been fatally injured. Making use of the wizard’s distraction, Cassiel mercilessly attacked him. While taking painful blows to his body, Garyth used the last of his magic to send his baby daughter away from the house. Then, he lost consciousness.

  When he awoke, he found himself alive, although confined in the godly prison. There he stayed for nearly a century as he mourned the loss of his wife and he devised a plan to escape. With the sacrifice of Pelos’ half-godly child, Sylune, Garyth managed to return to Dargon, where he landed, heavily injured, in Whiterose territory, as Kuban Whiterose left for Anhua.

  <--<< >>-->

  Garyth stood beside Ariane amid the ruins of the once glamorous ivory palace. The guardians sat at the far side of the room nursing their injuries, and the sibling gods stood to one side and spoke quietly among one another.

  “I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of. I made myself a monster,” Garyth said quietly, “And… maybe it wasn’t the best way that I could have done things, but I tried.”

  Ariane laid a gentle hand on his arm and replied, “I know you tried. You tried so, so hard and I believe that the future you’re fighting for will come to pass.”

  “I have a lot of regrets,” He sighed, “I didn’t even get a chance to know my daughter. She grew up, had children and grandchildren and died before I found my way back to Dargon.”

  “She doesn’t resent you… none of us do,” Ariane reassured him.

  <--<< >>-->

  “Do you truly believe his words?” Gialan asked Pelos.

  “I… I don’t know what to believe,” Pelos said honestly, “It just seems so far-fetched. How can a mortal regress without us knowing about it? We created them!”

  “I believe him.”

  Both siblings turned to Aeliyas incredulously, and she continued.

  “The balance has been skewed since the hero kings rose to power. It makes sense if he regressed to that time. I have many questions as to how it happened, but I do not doubt his words about that, at least.”

  There was a moment of silence, then the gods stiffened and their eyes widened. It was like the calm before the storm. Not a sound could be heard. Then, there was a dim rumble, followed by another… and another, like the distant chiming of a bell.

  The guardians stopped and turned to the sibling gods with uneasy expressions, now able to feel the rumble. They knew instinctively to fear what they felt, though they knew not what it was.

  There was a louder rumble that shook the ground beneath them, causing a cloud of dust to briefly rise, before settling back on the cracked floor.

  Pelos turned to his siblings, his heartbeat loud in his ears.

  He knew.

  They all knew.

  The creator god had awoken.