Shadows Over Arcadia Chapter 28: 28. The War of The False Gods

Read chapter 28 of Shadows Over Arcadia by Zacheas on NovelPedia.

28. The War of The False Gods 509 years ago, within the Dragon’s Cradle. I am Willow of the Fae. Though I have wandered Gaia for 4,587 years, I remain but a child when measured against the ancient gods who have persisted through countless cycles of this world's rebirth. https://shadowsoverarcadia.com/api/storage/objects/uploads/e36e5201-b5f5-4e9c-bdf0-03b5ea1f4af9 When gods wage war, it is mortals who die. The gods themselves cannot be killed, but the fragile creatures who worship them can be crushed, their kingdoms consumed by fire and the land beneath their feet torn asunder in the petty quarrels of immortals. Such was the war between Celestia, the Goddess of Creation, and Voltheron, the Dragon God of Wisdom and Knowledge. I had a front-row seat to Celestia’s devout followers as they embarked on their holy crusade, invading the Dragon’s Cradle from the Kingdom of Aurethiel. It was a glorious slaughter. Humans, elves, and dwarven zealots surged forth, clashing in brutal combat with dragons, kobolds, and the humans loyal to the Dragon God. For me, the battlefield was a feast of life-force to be reaped after many years of famine. The age before this war was one of progress, an era when magic flourished among the enlightened races. Mortal lives stretched longer, their miracles reshaping the world, their knowledge solving problems without the need for divine or fae intervention. Voltheron, the great hoarder and dispenser of arcane wisdom, had guided them to prosperity. Under his influence, they became so self-sufficient that beings like myself, the fae, found it increasingly difficult to tempt desperate or foolish mortals into making bargains. I had been starving for years. That is why I was overjoyed when Celestia declared war on Voltheron. Ever the opportunist, I waited for the armies to clash. When the slaughter began, I drifted unseen through the carnage, searching for my chance, seeking those who lingered on the brink of death, their final breaths spent in desperate pleas for release. There is no easier contract for a fae to fulfill than granting peace to a dying soul. Every fae knows war is good for business. Suffering and despair create desperate souls eager to trade their last breaths for relief. And so, as the battle raged, I feasted. Thousands of mortals, clinging to life by a thread, begged for an end to their agony. I granted their wishes and, for the first time in years, I fed well. Power surged through me once more. Now, the battle is over, but my hunger remains. I sit atop a mound of corpses, indifferent to who they were in life. Their empty shells hold no value to me. My attention is fixed instead on the colossal dragon—100 meters long and 70 meters tall—lying quietly amidst the battlefield’s devastation. He is Voltheron, the Dragon God, once thought to be the most ancient and wise among the gods. He is magnificent to behold. His flawless scales shimmer like molten gold beneath the crimson twilight, easily twice the size of the largest dragon lying dead around him. He rests stoically, forelegs gracefully crossed, eyes lifted toward the blood-red sky painted by the dying sun. If the loss of his kin and loyal followers weighs heavily upon him, it is impossible to discern it beneath his calm and regal composure. I wait here patiently beside him, just outside the reach of his dangerous divine aura. The Dragon God’s presence is so oppressive that it dispels illusions and enchantments. His words carry enough power to crush the bodies and minds of lesser creatures should he will it. All I need to do now is wait. The vast battlefield stretches endlessly, filled only with death and silence. There are no living souls left for me to prey upon—only him, the greatest prize imaginable. The desperate wish of a god. If by some slim chance he is brought low enough to request a deal, I could claim enough of his divine essence to ascend to godhood myself. The odds are remote, but the possibility alone makes the gamble irresistible.