New God(wheel of time)

Chapter 20: Into the Shadow

The night air was thick with tension as Eryndor strode forward, his every step resonating with an almost unnatural weight. The village, once filled with chaos and panic, had fallen silent in the wake of the Trollocs' retreat. The shadows seemed deeper now, stretching unnaturally long across the ground as if they were trying to envelop the world in their dark embrace.

Moraine moved quickly to keep pace with him, her expression a mix of wariness and fascination. She had never seen him like this—his aura was almost palpable, a heavy presence that seemed to bend reality around him.

"Eryndor, where are we going?" Moraine's voice was soft but firm, trying to break through the deep quiet.

"I don't know," he admitted, his eyes scanning the shifting darkness ahead. "But I feel it. A pull. Something's guiding me. It's not just the Trollocs we need to worry about. There's a deeper darkness here, and it's tied to... something. Or someone."

The air seemed to hum as they moved further into the woods, the path growing more twisted, as if the land itself was altering its form in response to Eryndor's presence. The trees loomed like silent sentinels, their gnarled branches whispering in the wind.

Finally, they came to a clearing, bathed in an eerie silvery light. The figure from earlier stood in the center, tall and imposing, surrounded by an unnatural stillness. It wasn't just the figure that made the air heavy—it was the power emanating from them. Power so vast, it threatened to crush the very air.

"You've come," the figure's voice echoed, reverberating through the clearing like a whisper on the wind. It was smooth, melodic, but layered with an underlying malevolence.

Eryndor stopped a few feet away, Moraine close behind. His senses were heightened now, the power within him buzzing in response to the figure's presence. This was no ordinary being.

"Who are you?" Eryndor asked, his voice steady but laced with an edge of caution.

The figure tilted their head, a slight smile playing on their lips. "I am known by many names," they said. "But you may call me Azhrael."

Moraine's hand went instinctively to her sword, her posture defensive. "What is it that you want?"

Azhrael's smile deepened, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling light. "I don't want anything, dear Aes Sedai. But you..." He turned his attention to Eryndor, his gaze piercing. "You are something else entirely. Something I've never encountered. Something... important."

Eryndor felt the weight of the words press upon him, his body involuntarily tightening as if bracing for a storm. "What do you mean? And why are you involved in this attack?"

Azhrael's eyes flickered with amusement. "The attack? A mere distraction. An experiment, if you will. A way to test the waters. To see what kind of being you really are."

Eryndor narrowed his eyes. "I am no experiment."

"Of course not," Azhrael said, his tone shifting to one of mock sincerity. "But you are a curiosity. You feel... different, don't you? That power inside you—it's not like anything I've ever encountered. It resonates with something beyond this world. Beyond this time."

Eryndor clenched his fists, a surge of energy welling up within him. "I still don't understand what you want from me. Why are you here?"

"I am here because you are the key," Azhrael replied, stepping forward into the clearing with an unsettling grace. "The pattern of the world is shifting, Eryndor. The time for balance is gone. Now, it is time for change. And you, young god, are going to play a part in that."

Moraine stepped forward, drawing her sword in a flash of silver. "What kind of change are you talking about? I won't let you harm him."

Azhrael's smile widened. "Harm him? No, no. I'm not here to harm him. I'm here to... guide him. You see, Eryndor, you are not just a god. You are something more. You are the one who will reshape the world. You will become the force that unravels the threads of fate and weaves them anew."

Eryndor's brow furrowed. "Reshape the world? I don't understand. I don't even understand what I am."

Azhrael's eyes gleamed as he looked at Eryndor with something akin to pity. "That is exactly what makes you so... dangerous. You are a god with no memory, no past. You are untethered from time. And that makes you capable of creating something new."

Moraine's voice was sharp. "If you think you can manipulate him—"

Azhrael held up a hand, silencing her. "I don't need to manipulate him, Aes Sedai. He will come to his own understanding, in time. But until then, I will simply watch."

Eryndor's thoughts were a whirlwind. A god. That was what Azhrael was suggesting. The more he listened, the more he could feel the weight of those words settling on him. There was truth in them, an undeniable truth. The power inside him was vast, and perhaps... limitless. But was it meant to be used for creation? Or destruction?

"I don't know what I am," Eryndor said again, his voice quieter now. "But I will not be anyone's tool."

Azhrael smiled faintly, a look of admiration on his face. "You're beginning to understand, I see. But remember, Eryndor... you cannot escape what you are. It is in your very being, in your blood. No matter how far you run, your destiny is intertwined with the fate of this world."

With a final cryptic look, Azhrael turned, his form melting into the shadows, disappearing as if he had never been there.

Moraine sheathed her sword, her eyes lingering on the spot where the figure had stood. "What just happened?" she whispered, her tone filled with a mixture of awe and fear.

"I don't know," Eryndor said, his gaze still fixed on the darkness. "But I'm afraid we haven't seen the last of him. Whatever game he's playing, it's far from over."

And as the night deepened around them, Eryndor felt the pull once more—the feeling that something ancient, something powerful, was awakening. And it was all connected to him.