Rakkor was a vast land beneath the shadow of Mount Rakkor. Villages, farms, forests, and old stone roads stretched across the Root of Yggdrasil. Its people lived simple lives. Farmers worked their fields from sunrise, merchants filled the markets, soldiers guarded the roads, and children spent their days running between houses until the evening bells called them home.

Watching over them were the gods, and above all stood Soleia, Goddess of Creation and Light, creator of mankind and protector of Rakkor. Her temples stood throughout the land. Her symbol hung inside homes, and her name was spoken in prayer before meals, journeys, and battles.

The people of Rakkor loved their gods. Generations of stories told of their guidance and protection.

Among those who admired them most was a nine-year-old boy named Aeris, who spent his days playing with the neighboring children and dreaming about the divine beings he had heard about since birth.

"I told you! The stone landed inside the circle!" Aeris shouted.

Mara pointed at the ground. "You moved the line with your foot!"

"I did not!"

"Aeris, I literally watched you do it."

He crossed his arms. "Then Soleia wanted me to win."

"That's not how Soleia works."

"How would you know?"

The children burst out laughing as Aeris grabbed his stone and ran before Mara could throw hers at him.

They chased one another through the narrow streets, weaving around merchants, carts, and irritated villagers. Aeris was already known among the neighboring children for two things: getting himself into trouble and talking endlessly about the gods.

While other children dreamed about becoming soldiers, Aeris was fascinated by the legendary Wardens of Rakkor, two powerful protectors whose families were said to have received an ancient blessing from Soleia herself.

Beneath the Wardens served the Knights, elite warriors who defended settlements against the creatures that wandered Rakkor after sunset. Ordinary infantry guarded the towns, roads, and villages.

Teran joined them with a stick resting over one shoulder.

"My brother said one Knight killed six Garvoks by himself."

Aeris barely looked impressed. "That's nothing. A Warden could probably kill fifty."

"You've never even seen a Warden."

"I read about them."

Mara gave him a flat look. "Your mother read about them to you."

"Same thing."

By afternoon, Aeris returned home covered in dirt with another scrape across his knee.

His mother, Eira, sat near the window repairing one of his shirts when he walked in. She took one look at him.

"What happened to you?"

"Garvok."

"Aeris."

"A very small Garvok."

"Aeris."

He sighed. "I fell."

"There it is."

Aeris sat beside her and noticed the old leather-covered book resting on a nearby shelf. He immediately pointed at it.

"Can you read that one?"

"Again?"

"Just the Garvok part."

"You've heard it dozens of times."

"I like that part."

Eira raised an eyebrow. "You like the part about monsters attacking people?"

"I like when the gods beat them."

Eira smiled, reached for the book, and opened it across her lap.

The book was called The First Light, one of the oldest and most beloved religious stories told throughout Rakkor. Its pages spoke of Soleia creating mankind, Elyssia bringing life into the world, Aurek teaching mortals the art of creation through their hands, Arcavius granting wisdom, and the other gods guiding humanity through its earliest days.

Eira turned to one of Aeris's favorite illustrations.

Across two pages, twisted creatures stood beneath a blackened sky. Their bodies were covered in dark purple hide, their limbs are unnatural, while pale eyes stared toward a distant temple.

Eira began to read.

"Long ago, when mankind first received the blessings of the gods, there existed creatures that hated the heavens."

"The Garvoks," Aeris said immediately.

"Yes. The Garvoks looked upon the gods with hatred. They despised the heavens and everything the gods had created."

"Why?"

"The stories say they wanted the heavens for themselves."

"That's stupid."

"I haven't finished yet."

"It's already stupid."

"Aeris."

"Fine."

Eira turned the page.

The next illustration showed Garvoks surrounding a burning settlement while frightened Rakkorians fled toward a temple.

"The Garvoks knew that reaching the gods themselves would be nearly impossible," Eira continued. "The heavens were beyond them, and no ordinary creature could simply walk into the realm of the divine."

"Because the gods would destroy them."

"Most likely."

"Definitely."

"So the Garvoks made up a plan."

Aeris leaned closer.

"They began attacking the people who worshipped the gods."

"Rakkorians."

"Yes. They attacked villages, temples, and travelers, hoping that eventually their destruction would anger one of the gods enough to descend from the heavens."

"And then?"

"They believed they could ambush the god once they came down to protect their followers."

Aeris stared at her.

"That's their plan?"

"According to the book."

"That's the stupidest plan I've ever heard."

"You've had some impressive plans yourself."

"Mine usually work."

Eira gave him a look. "You once jumped from the grain shed with a blanket because you thought you could fly."

"Ofcourse I could"

"You landed in a cabbage cart."

"Uh yes, and I survived"

"The cabbages didn't."

Aeris frowned at the illustration again.

"Why would anyone hate Soleia?"

"Perhaps some creatures simply choose hatred over gratitude."

"If Soleia created mankind and protects Rakkor, then attacking us just makes the Garvoks cowards."

"That is certainly one way of describing them."

"I'd fight them."

"You scream when spiders crawl into your room."

"Spiders have too many legs. That's different."

"Of course."

"If Soleia came down, the Garvoks wouldn't stand a chance anyway."

"Let's hope she never has a reason to."

"I'd want to see it."

"From inside the house."

"From the window?"

"From very far away from the window."

Aeris frowned. "That's not even watching anymore."