Chapter 9 - Dawn Over Aethelgard
The sun rose over Aethelgard like a slow, deliberate brushstroke of gold and rose across an undisturbed horizon.
There were no alarms ringing. No frantic crowds gathering in the Grand Plaza to mourn a lost child. Instead, the streets of the capital were quiet, filled only with the early morning bakers lighting their ovens and merchants unrolling their canvas awnings. They looked up at Mount Vaelen, half-expecting to see the usual plume of ritual smoke rising from the peak.
Instead, the mountain stood tall and clear against the morning light, its jagged silhouette quiet and majestic, no longer hiding a terrifying secret behind a shroud of clouds.
At the outer gates of the city, the guards on duty rubbed their eyes in disbelief as a lone figure emerged from the winding path of the lower slopes.
It was a boy. He wore a torn, ash-stained linen tunic, and his bare feet were caked in mountain dust. But as he walked past the stone gateposts, the morning light seemed to catch on his skin, flashing with a brief, warm trace of amber beneath his collar.
"Halt! Who goes there?" the captain of the guard called out, instinctively reaching for his sword hilt before freezing. He recognized the face. Every man, woman, and child in Aethelgard had seen that face projected on the banners in the Grand Plaza three weeks ago.
"The offering..." a younger guard whispered, dropping his spear in sheer shock. "He... he returned from the temple."
The citizens working near the gate stopped in their tracks. Whispers rippled through the cobblestone square like wildfire. People stepped back, their faces a mix of superstitious terror and profound confusion. For ten centuries, no one had ever come back from the Temple of the Gods.
Kellan didn't stop. He walked steadily past the gaping guards, his head held high, his eyes clear and steady. The heavy burden of a thousand years had passed through him, leaving him bruised, but unbroken.
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"Open the gates," Kellan said simply, his voice carrying a quiet, unmistakable authority that made even the seasoned captain step aside without a word.
The heavy iron gates of Aethelgard creaked open, welcoming the morning sun and a brand-new world.
