“The outer gods’ influence grows. Our scouts report blight spreading from the northern forests. Every day we wait, more people suffer. You have been given a tool to stop it. To keep Ghyl safe.”

Alexa’s heart hammered. She looked from Hemlock’s desperate face to Maliwan’s tear-filled one. The selfish part of her wanted to slam the door, to hide in her room and pretend none of this was happening. But the image of the blight spreading, of other villages suffering while she stayed safe, solidified in her mind. Her inaction would have a cost, a cost paid by others.

It was in this painful silence that a voice, low and laced with a strange, bitter amusement, cut through the tension.

“How fortunate for you.”

All eyes turned to Valerie, who still leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. Her gaze was fixed on Alexa, but there was no admiration in it—only a simmering, cynical jealousy.

“To be so chosen,” Valerie continued, her words dripping with a venom that felt older than her years. “To have a god hand you a purpose on a silver shield. Must be nice.” She pushed off the frame, and for a moment, her white hair seemed to catch the light in an almost unnatural way. A faint, cold energy, like the static before a storm, prickled in the air around her—a fleeting sensation gone as quickly as it came. “Don’t keep your adoring public waiting, hero.”

With a final, unreadable glance, she turned and disappeared into the street.

Her words were a poison, but they were also a catalyst. They highlighted the privilege Alexa hadn’t even wanted, a privilege someone like Valerie clearly coveted. The contrast was stark. One girl burdened by a god’s grace, another seemingly abandoned by any.

Alexa took a deep, shuddering breath. She looked at her aunt, whose shoulders were now shaking with silent sobs. The weight was unbearable, but it was hers to carry.
“I have to go, Mali,” Alexa whispered, her voice thick with tears. “If I don’t, the suffering will come to our door. I have to try.”

Without waiting for another argument, she walked past the elder and out of the house. The sound of her aunt’s awful, heartbroken crying followed her, a sound she knew would haunt her forever. She didn't look back. If she did, her resolve would crumble.

So she focused only on the path ahead, putting one foot in front of the other. With each step away from Ghyl, the world around her began to change. The ordinary morning light seemed to soften, and the air itself began to hum with the latent energy she had felt in her vision. The forest path, which should have been dark and threatening, now felt like a welcoming guide. It was clearer than before, as if the trees themselves were parting to lead her back to the sanctum.

And there, in the heart of the grove, it waited.

The shield lay cradled by roots, glowing with a soft, patient light. Its material seemed to be living wood, grain swirling with a latent energy, yet it was harder than iron and warm to the touch. This time, there was no hesitation. As Alexa’s fingers met its surface, a decision was affirmed. A wave of pure, golden light erupted from the shield, not as a blast, but as a gentle tide. It washed through the trees, and a miracle unfolded: the great beasts of the forest, once a terror, bowed their heads. Not in fear, but in reverence. No words were spoken. None were needed.

With a heart swelling with purpose, Alexa simply raised the shield. It was an act of acceptance, a vow made in the silent language of faith, honoring the god who had chosen her.

In that moment, after ages of silence, the light had been lit again.

“Pft…! Alexa!” he managed to gasp, tears welling in the corners of his eyes. “Why did you add that last line? ‘The light had been lit again’? By the Foundry, that’s so… earnest! If I were the author of your backstory, I would’ve died of embarrassment on the spot. It’s like something out of a cheap devotional pamphlet!”

A hot flush crept up Alexa’s neck. Sharing the story had been a mistake, a moment of vulnerability she now deeply regretted. She crossed her arms, turning away from him to stare at a crack in the courtyard stones. “Whatever, metal man,” she sighed, the words laced with more weariness than anger. “I don’t know why I decided to talk to someone like you in the first place. I should have known you’d just mock it.”

This only seemed to inflate his ego further. Daniel sprang to his feet, puffing out his chest with theatrical pride. The setting sun cast a long, dramatic shadow behind him—a shadow his actual height could never achieve.

“You talk to me,” he declared, pointing a thumb at his own chest, “because you are in the presence of the young genius of the Renghod bloodline! The one and only Daniel Renghod! My intellect is a resource, little champion. You’d be wise to appreciate it.”

Alexa’s eyes flicked down to his boots, then slowly traveled up to meet his gaze, a wicked smirk playing on her lips. She drew out the syllables, sweet and venomous. “Yeah, I could tell. The genius is just bursting out… from that truly impressive height of yours, D-a-n-n-y.”

The pride on Daniel’s face shattered instantly. A scowl darkened his features. “Ugh. Don’t ever call me that,” he grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Fuck you.”

“Noted,” Alexa said, her smirk softening into a genuine, if tired, smile. For all his bluster, he was a welcome distraction from the weight of the memory. And perhaps, just perhaps, his cynicism was a shield not so different from her own.