New God(wheel of time)

Chapter 17: The Weight of Power

Mic stood still as the last of the riders disappeared into the distance, his mind racing with questions. The power he had unleashed earlier still pulsed through him, not fully dissipating, a constant hum beneath his skin. It was more than just the physical feeling of power—it was the overwhelming awareness of his own existence, the sense that he was something vast, something ancient. The world around him seemed to shift in response to his every movement, a reflection of his own inner turmoil.

Moraine stood at his side, her eyes fixed on the horizon, though her mind seemed focused entirely on him. Her hand, still resting on the hilt of her dagger, was relaxed, but there was a tension in her posture, a quiet readiness, as if she were waiting for something.

"Mic," she said quietly, her voice low but steady, "what just happened? That energy… it was like nothing I've ever felt before. You're… you're not like anything I've ever encountered."

Mic glanced at her, his eyes narrowing slightly. He had felt the same thing, but he didn't know what to say. How could he explain the power that surged within him? How could he describe the strange sense of being both a part of everything and entirely separate from it?

"I don't know," he replied, his voice strained. "I just… I don't know how to control it."

Moraine's expression softened, a flicker of something like understanding passing over her face. "It's not control you need right now, Mic. It's understanding. The power you hold, the force that resides within you… it's not just strength. It's something far greater. Something you might not fully comprehend yet."

He felt the weight of her words, the gravity of her concern. She didn't understand him completely, but she understood enough to recognize the danger of what he was becoming. And that was what frightened him the most.

"I didn't ask for this," he muttered, his eyes scanning the horizon as the sounds of nature seemed to quiet around him. "I didn't ask for any of it."

Moraine watched him for a moment, her gaze unwavering. "None of us ask for the roles we play in the world. But that doesn't change the fact that we're part of something far bigger than ourselves. And the moment we realize that, we have to choose what to do with it."

Her words lingered in the air between them, hanging there like a veil of inevitability. Mic wasn't sure he understood her completely, but he felt something stirring deep inside him, a recognition of truth he couldn't quite put into words.

As the moments passed, he began to realize that Moraine wasn't just speaking about him. She was speaking about herself, about the choices she had made and the ones still waiting for her. The same choices that would shape them both, for better or for worse.

Suddenly, Mic's attention snapped back to the present, his eyes locking onto a faint disturbance in the air. A ripple, small but noticeable, shimmering like a distortion in the fabric of reality itself.

"Do you feel that?" Mic asked, his voice low but urgent.

Moraine stiffened, her hand moving instinctively to her dagger once again, her body poised for action. "Yes. I don't know what it is, but we're not alone."

The ripple intensified, spreading outward, and before Mic could react, a figure appeared before them, materializing from the distortion as if the air itself had split open.

A tall man, cloaked in dark robes, his features obscured by the hood. He stood with an air of quiet authority, his presence radiating an unnerving calm. There was something about him that felt familiar, though Mic couldn't quite place why. He had the aura of power—true power—much like his own, but it was different. Something older. Something darker.

"You are a strange one," the man said, his voice deep, resonating with a power that Mic instinctively recognized. "You don't belong here. But perhaps that's why I've come."

Mic felt the air around them grow heavier, the atmosphere thick with tension. The stranger's gaze shifted between him and Moraine, and for the first time since he had arrived in this world, Mic felt the weight of being observed by someone who truly understood the forces at play.

"You can't run from it," the man continued, his voice a low murmur, "the power you possess is not just your own. It's part of something much larger than you. And it's beginning to affect everything."

Moraine tensed, her hand gripping the dagger hilt so tightly her knuckles turned white. "Who are you?" she demanded, her voice sharp, demanding answers.

The man chuckled softly, the sound carrying with it a hint of something far older than his appearance suggested. "Who am I? I am but a messenger, a harbinger of what is to come. The power you've unlocked, Mic… it's not the first time it's been awakened. But it's the first time it's been so uncontrollable. And that, my friend, is something we cannot ignore."

Mic's heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing as he tried to process the stranger's words. "What do you mean by 'uncontrollable'? What is it that I've done?"

The man stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. "You've triggered something. A shift. You are not just a god of creation—you are a god of balance, of both creation and destruction. But unlike those who came before you, you have no guidance. You've only just begun to understand what you are. And if you don't learn quickly, the consequences will be dire."

Moraine stepped in front of Mic, her body tense, her eyes narrowing. "How do you know all this? And what do you want with him?"

The man's eyes flickered with a brief moment of amusement. "I don't want anything, Lady. I'm simply here to make sure the balance is maintained. And for that, I need to ensure that Mic doesn't stray too far from his true purpose."

Mic took a step forward, his expression hardening. "And what if I don't care about your balance? What if I want to decide for myself what I become?"

The stranger's eyes darkened, the air around them growing heavier still. "Then you will face the consequences alone. The forces you've awakened are not things to be trifled with, Mic. Not even you can control them indefinitely."

For a long moment, the only sound was the wind rustling the trees, the tension between them thickening with every passing second.

Finally, the man nodded. "Very well. But remember this: There is always a price for power. Even for a god like you."

And with that, he vanished, leaving only the lingering sense of unease in the air.

Moraine turned to Mic, her gaze thoughtful, but firm. "We need to be careful. This is only the beginning. And I don't think it's over."

Mic nodded silently, his mind racing as the weight of the stranger's words sank in. There was much he didn't understand, and he wasn't sure how much time he had before everything around him began to unravel.

The only thing he was sure of now was that whatever path he chose, it would come with consequences.

And those consequences might be beyond his control.