Aria’s fingers tightened around her satchel of prayer scrolls as she glanced nervously at the newcomers. These men had the look of seasoned predators—people who’d fought their way through this forsaken land for years, with no fear of death.

"Now, now," the man said, slowly advancing toward Mailys. "You thought you could make a living here, eh? Stealing from the weak, picking through the bones of this dead town. But Thalebrook is ours."

Aria instinctively moved closer to Mailys, but Cassian caught her arm, his other hand instantly gripping the hilt of his sword. "Hold on, Sister," he murmured. "That’s Brier Drybones. He's not a man to trifle with."

"There's no need for trouble," Mailys spoke up, raising her hands in a calming gesture. "We’re not here to interfere with your... operations. We have already taken too much from this village."

Brier let out a rough, humorless chuckle. “Oh, I heard your little sermon. Real pretty words. It doesn’t matter to me whether you’re running a holy con or picking pockets—you’ll still have to pay me for the right to do it.”

"This is no con," Mailys declared firmly. "We’ve been redeemed by the light of Soter. We’re done tearing down this village—now, we’re here to rebuild it, starting with this temple."

"Rebuild?" Another one of the men scoffed, stepping forward with a smirk. "This dump is already crumbling. What are you really after?"

Aria took a careful step forward, her voice soft but resolute. "We’re here to bring hope back to a place that lost it long ago. Soter doesn’t take away—he gives. We’re not interested in conflict."

Brier let out a mocking laugh. "Hope? You think these people need 'hope'?" He glanced around at his men, who chuckled darkly in response. "Hope is a fairytale. All they need is a strong hand and a reminder of who holds the power here."

Cassian’s hand tightened on his sword hilt, his eyes fixed on the man. "We’ve seen plenty of strong hands crush lives in places like this. If you think intimidation will make us abandon this mission, you’re mistaken."

Brier smile faded, his expression hardening. "Then maybe it’s time you learned who really controls Thalebrook."

As Brier’s sneer turned into a snarl, he drew his jagged blade with a swift, menacing pull. Cassian, already prepared, stepped in front of Aria and Mailys, his own sword gleaming in the dim light of the crumbling temple.

Brier lunged, swinging with a brutal, practiced ease, but Cassian met him blow for blow, his stance firm and controlled. The clash of metal echoed through the temple, a fierce, intense rhythm that held everyone in a breathless grip. Brier’s attacks were savage, each strike aimed to end the fight quickly, but Cassian parried with calculated precision, waiting for his opening.

In a split second, Cassian shifted his weight, sidestepping Brier’s next swing. Seizing the moment, he drove his sword forward, slipping past Brier’s defenses. The blade found its mark, piercing through with deadly accuracy. Brier’s eyes widened in shock as he staggered back, clutching at the wound, his bravado fading to disbelief.

One of Brier’s men, a broad-shouldered brute with a broken nose and scarred knuckles, took a step forward, his eyes flashing with fury at seeing his leader fall. With a roar, he lunged at Cassian, a heavy dagger glinting in his hand.

Cassian didn’t flinch. In a swift, practiced motion, he sidestepped the attack, swinging his sword to meet the man’s charge. The blade bit into the attacker’s arm, sending his dagger clattering to the floor. The man stumbled back, clutching his bleeding arm and cursing under his breath, his bravado suddenly fading as he realized he was outmatched.

"Knowing they could not take him on one by one, Brier’s men began to close in on Cassian. Suddenly, a flicker of light shimmered in the darkened temple. The air grew warm and charged with a divine energy, and a soft, lilting laugh echoed through the silence."

From the dimness, Thalia appeared, a golden light surrounding her. The men faltered, their weapons wavering as they took in her appearance. Thalia’s gaze swept over them, her expression both serene and divine.

“My poor lost souls,” she said in a voice as gentle as a summer breeze. “Surely, you don’t think that violence is the only way to solve your troubles here?”

One of the men took a hesitant step back, looking over his shoulder at his companions, suddenly unsure of himself. Thalia extended her hand toward him, a warm smile lighting her face.

“There’s so much more to life than anger and fear,” she continued, her voice weaving through the room, dispelling the tension like morning mist. “Perhaps you’ve just forgotten what it feels like to have hope.”

As if under a spell, the men relaxed, their weapons lowering as they exchanged uncertain glances. One by one, they seemed to lose the will to fight, and a faint, involuntary smile began to soften even the hardest of faces.

Thalia, her golden light still radiating softly, took a graceful step toward Aria. Her presence seemed to calm the air around her, like a gentle breeze that soothed a storm. She smiled warmly, her eyes sparkling with kindness.

"I've heard so much about you, dear," Thalia said, her voice like a comforting lullaby. "It brings me such joy to finally meet you in person."

Aria, still standing near Mailys, blinked in surprise at the sudden attention. Her heart fluttered, unsure of what to expect. Thalia’s beauty and grace were overwhelming, and yet, there was something about her that felt reassuring, like a hand reaching out to pull her from a shadowed place.

"Soter has great plans for you," Thalia continued, her smile widening. "You are meant to bring light to this world, to restore what was lost. Your path, though challenging, will be one of great purpose. You are more than you know, Aria."

Aria’s breath caught in her throat. The weight of Thalia’s words settled over her like a cloak, both inspiring and daunting.

"What... what do you mean?" Aria asked, her voice barely above a whisper, as if she feared the answer.

Thalia gently gestured for Aria to follow. The divine light in her eyes was soft but unwavering, guiding the way. Aria hesitated for a moment, still awestruck by the encounter, but Thalia’s presence seemed to carry an unspoken assurance, pulling her forward.

They approached the wounded man, who now knelt on the floor, clutching his arm where Cassian’s sword had struck him. His face twisted in pain, his breath ragged as he tried to control the bleeding.

Thalia turned to Aria, her voice gentle yet commanding. "Place your hand on his wound. Soter’s light flows through you, Aria. You have the power to heal."

Aria’s heart raced in her chest, uncertainty flooding her thoughts. Could she truly do this? But something inside her stirred, a warmth that seemed to answer Thalia’s words. She could feel the weight of her calling, the divine energy swirling around her like a steady current.

She nodded, and with a steady breath, she stepped closer to the man. His eyes flickered with disbelief as he met her gaze, but there was something in her that seemed to reassure him as well. Aria hesitated for only a moment before she gently placed her hand over the wound on his arm.

A soft, golden light began to emanate from her fingers. At first, it was faint, like the glow of embers in the dark, but it quickly intensified, bathing the room in a warm, radiant glow. The man’s pained expression shifted to one of awe as the golden light grew brighter, almost blinding in its intensity.

Aria felt a surge of energy flow through her, a divine power that she had never known. The warmth in her hand spread into the wound, and with a final, shimmering pulse, the wound closed, the skin knitting itself together as though it had never been torn.

The man gasped, looking down at his arm in shock and wonder. He flexed his fingers, testing the strength in the healed limb, and then he looked up at Aria, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"It’s... it’s gone," he whispered, his voice thick with awe. "How did you...?"

Aria, still in shock herself, could only smile faintly. "It wasn’t me. It’s Soter’s light. It flows through all of us."

Thalia’s soft laughter rang out, and she placed a gentle hand on Aria’s shoulder. "You see, Aria? You are exactly where you are meant to be."

The man, still stunned, slowly knelt in reverence, his hand over his heart. "Thank you," he said, his voice trembling.

Aria's heart swelled with a sense of fulfillment she had never felt before. Soter’s power had flowed through her, and in that moment, she knew that this was only the beginning of the path that lay ahead.

Brier Drybones groaned as consciousness slowly returned, his head throbbing with a dull, relentless ache. His senses flickered to life, one by one—taste, smell, touch—but the overwhelming sensation was the oppressive weight of darkness around him. He tried to move, but his limbs felt sluggish, unresponsive, as if weighed down by the very air itself.

When his eyes finally opened, they were greeted by an expanse of barren, desolate wasteland. The ground was cracked and dry, a jagged expanse of blackened earth stretching out in every direction. There was no sky, no sun—just a swirling, dim haze overhead, giving everything an ashen, muted hue. It was a place without hope, without light, without life.

His breath hitched as his last memory flooded back—Cassian’s sword. The sharp sting of the blade as it pierced through him. The shock, the disbelief. Had he died? Was this... was this the afterlife?

Brier’s hand went to his side instinctively, but he found nothing there. No sword, no wound. Just empty air and the cold bite of the wasteland. He forced himself to sit up, his muscles stiff and aching. His surroundings were oppressive in their silence, the ground beneath him cracked like dried blood.

He pushed himself to his feet, stumbling as he stood, his gaze searching the barren landscape for any sign of life, any hope of escape. But there was nothing. Just endless stretches of nothingness.

"Where... where am I?" he muttered, his voice hoarse and foreign to his own ears.

"A faint sound of footsteps echoed through the stillness, and Brier’s heart clenched. He spun around as the footsteps grew louder, closer, until a man appeared before him."

"Who are you?" Briar demanded, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of a weapon that wasn’t there.

The man chuckled softly, his voice low and gravelly. "I'm just another humble dead guy," he said, his tone surprisingly calm given the strange setting.

Brier narrowed his eyes, his mind still reeling from the confusion. "What is this place?" he asked, his voice rough and uncertain.

The man’s expression remained unchanged as he looked around the barren wasteland. "This place? It’s called Erebus."

Brier’s brow furrowed. "Erebus? I don’t remember any afterlife like this in the tales."

The man gave a dry laugh. "I’m pretty sure this place is older than the tales," he said with a cryptic smile.

The man’s gaze turned somber, his eyes narrowing slightly as he spoke with a weighty tone. 'This isn’t the afterlife you were supposed to go to,' he said, his voice low. 'You were brought here by Valkas.'

Brier stiffened at the name, a flicker of recognition—both fear and resentment—flashing in his chest. 'Valkas?' he repeated. 'Why would he bring me here?'

The man shrugged, his expression unreadable. “To utilize your skills, which I’m guessing is not bread baking.”

Brier narrowed his eyes, his jaw clenched. "What happens if I refuse?" he asked, his voice steady but laced with defiance.

The man’s expression remained neutral, but there was an unmistakable seriousness in his eyes. "Valkas is not a god who takes no for an answer," he said, his tone calm yet filled with an underlying threat. "Refusing him doesn’t end well for most."

The man gestured for Brier to follow him. "Come along," he said, his voice carrying a hint of humor. "I’ll introduce you to the rest. They’re mostly good lads, though the dragons can be a bit standoffish."