The Mortal Realm.
A world filled with countless lives.
Millions of kingdoms.
Billions of creatures.
Endless oceans.
Boundless lands.
Yet at this very moment, none of them knew that the fate of existence itself had begun to change.
The winds continued to blow.
The rivers continued to flow.
Kings sat upon their thrones.
Merchants traveled ancient roads.
Children laughed beneath the warmth of the sun.
Life continued as normal.
Unaware.
Completely unaware.
Far above them, however, the rulers of creation stood in silence.
Heavania Realm.
The highest realm in existence.
A place beyond the reach of mortals.
A place where stars drifted like rivers and galaxies decorated the skies like jewels.
At the center of Heavania stood the Hall of Origin.
The oldest structure in Nethania.
The first structure.
A palace forged from fragments of creation itself.
Its pillars stretched endlessly into the heavens.
Its floors reflected entire universes.
Its walls contained the history of reality.
Within its grand chamber stood fourteen thrones.
Each occupied by one of the creators of Nethania.
And for the first time in ten thousand years...
None of them appeared calm.
The mysterious parchment floated in the center of the chamber.
Golden symbols continued moving across its surface.
Changing.
Shifting.
Rewriting themselves.
As if the prophecy itself were alive.
Aurelion stared at it with narrowed eyes.
"The laws cannot read it."
The God of Order rarely displayed emotion.
Today was different.
His voice carried unease.
Across from him, Serapha folded her arms.
Golden light surrounded her beautiful figure.
"The prophecy appeared from nowhere."
"That alone should be impossible."
"It bypassed every divine barrier."
"It entered Heavania without permission."
The chamber remained silent.
Because everyone knew she was correct.
Nothing entered Heavania unnoticed.
Nothing.
Not even another god.
Yet somehow a simple parchment had accomplished exactly that.
Valtor, God of Wisdom, adjusted the spectacles resting upon his nose.
Although they served no purpose, he enjoyed wearing them.
A habit developed over countless millennia.
His silver eyes examined the prophecy carefully.
"I have searched every record."
"The wording does not belong to any known language."
"The symbols predate creation itself."
"Even my knowledge cannot determine their origin."
The statement caused several gods to frown.
Valtor possessed knowledge greater than entire civilizations combined.
If even he could not understand something...
The situation was serious.
Very serious.
At the opposite end of the hall sat Nyxara.
Goddess of Darkness.
Unlike the radiant gods surrounding her, darkness flowed naturally around her figure.
Yet her beauty remained undeniable.
Her crimson eyes reflected amusement.
"You all seem terrified."
Mordrak laughed loudly.
The God of Destruction leaned back upon his throne.
His massive frame resembled a mountain.
Golden cracks spread across his dark skin like rivers of molten lava.
"Terrified?"
"Perhaps."
"But I admit this is interesting."
The corners of his lips curved upward.
"For the first time in thousands of years, something unexpected has happened."
"Finally."
Several gods rolled their eyes.
Only Mordrak would find entertainment in a prophecy capable of threatening divine existence.
Beside him sat Zeraphine.
Goddess of Secrets.
Unlike the others, her face remained hidden behind a veil of silver mist.
No one knew what she truly looked like.
Not even the other gods.
"The prophecy worries me."
Her voice echoed strangely throughout the chamber.
Soft.
Gentle.
Yet impossible to ignore.
"There are forces moving beyond our sight."
"And that has never happened before."
The atmosphere grew heavier.
Because everyone understood the significance of her words.
The fourteen gods governed reality.
Nothing should exist beyond their awareness.
Nothing.
Yet something clearly did.
Aurelion rose from his throne.
Instantly the hall grew quiet.
His authority as the God of Order commanded respect.
Even among gods.
"The prophecy speaks of a mortal."
"Nothing more."
"Perhaps we are overreacting."
Drakari immediately laughed.
The Goddess of Chaos possessed fiery red hair and eyes filled with mischief.
"Overreacting?"
"The future vanished."
"A prophecy ignored divine law."
"A child capable of surpassing gods is about to be born."
"And we're overreacting?"
Several gods nodded.
For once, Drakari had a point.
An uncomfortable point.
But a point nonetheless.
Suddenly a strange sound echoed throughout the chamber.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Every god froze.
Ilyra slowly stood.
The Goddess of Time rarely showed emotion.
Now her expression had become deathly pale.
The ticking continued.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
No clock existed within Heavania.
No mechanism produced such sounds.
And yet every god could hear it clearly.
"What is that?" Serapha asked.
Ilyra swallowed.
Something she had not done in thousands of years.
"It shouldn't exist."
"What shouldn't?" Tharos demanded.
The Goddess of Time slowly turned toward them.
Fear lingered within her eyes.
"The Clock of Fate."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Even Mordrak stopped smiling.
The Clock of Fate.
A legendary phenomenon.
A force older than the gods themselves.
A force that only appeared when destiny underwent a fundamental change.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
The sound continued.
Growing louder.
Growing stronger.
Each tick echoed throughout every realm.
Mountains trembled.
Stars flickered.
Mana currents shifted.
The entire world felt its presence.
Within the Mortal Realm, countless individuals suddenly paused.
They did not know why.
A strange feeling appeared in their hearts.
An instinctive sensation.
As if something monumental had just begun.
Far away, dragons opened their ancient eyes.
Deep beneath the oceans, forgotten monsters stirred.
Within hidden ruins, ancient relics awakened.
Throughout Nethania, the impossible began occurring.
The prophecy was already influencing reality.
And it had not even fulfilled itself yet.
Back inside the Hall of Origin, tension continued to rise.
Caelum, God of Stars, extended his hand.
Thousands of miniature constellations appeared above his palm.
Each represented possible futures.
Normally he could observe centuries ahead.
Today...
Every future had disappeared.
The stars shattered.
One after another.
Until only darkness remained.
His expression hardened.
"The future is gone."
"The child has become a singularity."
A singularity.
A point beyond prediction.
Beyond calculation.
Beyond destiny.
The implications terrified even the gods.
Velzhar suddenly laughed.
Unlike the others, the God of Freedom appeared delighted.
His silver hair danced wildly despite the absence of wind.
"Wonderful."
Everyone turned toward him.
"Wonderful?" Aurelion asked.
"Of course."
Velzhar grinned.
"For ten thousand years everything has followed predictable paths."
"The same cycles."
"The same destinies."
"The same outcomes."
"Now something has broken the pattern."
His eyes gleamed.
"For the first time..."
"The future belongs to possibility."
Aurelion frowned.
Predictably.
Order and freedom rarely agreed.
Before either could continue arguing, a pulse erupted from the prophecy.
BOOM!
The chamber shook violently.
Golden light exploded outward.
The parchment unfolded.
More words appeared.
Faster.
Brighter.
Stronger.
The gods immediately focused upon the message.
A single sentence emerged.
The First Trial Approaches.
The words remained visible for several seconds.
Then vanished.
The prophecy disintegrated.
Gone.
Without warning.
Without explanation.
Without leaving a trace behind.
The chamber fell silent.
Again.
The gods exchanged glances.
None understood what had happened.
None understood who created the prophecy.
None understood what the First Trial meant.
Yet all of them understood one thing.
The child existed.
And somewhere within the Mortal Realm...
That child had already begun changing the future.
Aurelion slowly sat back down.
"The search begins immediately."
Several gods nodded.
"We will locate the child before anyone else."
Nyxara raised an eyebrow.
"And then?"
No answer came.
Because nobody knew.
Would they guide the child?
Protect them?
Control them?
Eliminate them?
Even the gods remained uncertain.
Far below.
Across countless mountains and rivers.
Within a remote kingdom unknown to history.
A small village rested beside a forest.
Simple homes.
Simple people.
Simple lives.
Nothing remarkable.
Nothing important.
Or so it appeared.
Inside one modest house, a woman lay resting upon a bed.
Beside her stood a worried man.
Her husband.
The room remained quiet.
Until suddenly—
A pulse of golden light emerged from her stomach.
The couple froze.
The light vanished moments later.
Neither understood what had happened.
Yet outside the house, hidden among the clouds far above, fourteen pairs of eyes silently watched.
The creators of Nethania.
The rulers of existence.
The gods themselves.
Watching a single unborn child.
And for the first time in ten thousand years...
The future belonged to a mortal.
To be continued...