The gravel crunched under my boot.
The stones were still wet from the morning rain and had a darker tint than they should've. Almost like the whole place was still bleeding from long ago.
I didn't stop to look over my shoulder. If it had caught up to me, I wouldn't have made it this far.
As I climbed the broken steps, I ran one hand across the wall out of habit. Nothing holy left in the stone anymore—just rot and dust and bad memory.
At the top, I found the statue again. Or what was left of it. The head had rolled off sometime in the last century. It sat on its side, half-buried in mud. Moss had started to take one eye, like even the earth was trying to forget who it used to be.
I twisted my head to match the angle. Looked at it like I was trying to see something straight.
"Hmm."
I let the breath out slow. "I was so damn sure back then."
I continued to stare for a moment, lost in memory, before I pulled myself together. I began to walk around the fallen statue, then stepped over a broken slab. The old walkway was caved in where the roof had collapsed, sunlight cutting jagged streaks across the floor. There were bones in the cracks. Some human, some not. Hard to tell anymore after all this time.
Once, my people came here by the hundreds. Singing and laughing. Offering gold, prayers, and whatever else they thought would please me. I still remember the hymns echoing off the walls. I remember how it felt to be the center of everything.
They used to call me the Avenger. A calamity. A god.
Now I can't even picture their faces.
I turned the corner, dust swirling low to the floor, and my foot hit something hard causing a loud clanging sound.
I felt my shoulders tense up and I quickly scanned my environment. After a few minutes of intensity I took a deep breath and let my muscles relax. I looked down irritably to investigate what I had kicked.
Armor. What was left of it, anyway.
The chestplate was crushed inward like someone had driven a mountain into it. The edges were jagged, bent, blackened at the seams. Some charred flesh even remained that had fused with the metal in places.
I recognized the etchings immediately. It was my symbol, a flaming heart grabbed firm in a clenched fist, carved by their own hand.
There were signs of restraint—spikes driven through the forearm plates, burn marks around the collar.
They hadn't just killed them. They had wanted it to hurt.
I stood there for a while. Just... looking at it. I couldn't remember the name. But somehow I remembered the way they used to kneel. The way they sang when they thought I was listening. The sounds of when they thought I wasn't.
I wasn't there when they needed me.
And now this is all that's left.
Now look at me.
I kicked a half-rotted offering bowl aside in apathy and kept moving.
Back then—when this world was new, when we were all still pretending this was some kind of holy mission—I stood at the center. I had more believers than the other gods combined. My name carried weight. My power cracked the sky, carved rivers where there were none, brought the dead screaming back into the light.
And I loved it. Every second of it. Oh, how I had relished in the trappings of absolute authority.
I didn't listen when the others threatened me. In fact, I laughed in their faces. Thought they were jealous.
They were. But they weren't wrong either.
Arrogance... yeah. That's the killer. Not swords, war, nor disease. No, for us, the chief among them is Pride.
Just thinking you're untouchable long enough to stop looking over your shoulder.
Soon I was shown my own hubris. The others burned my temples and crushed my people. Turned my name into a literal curse and my works into rubble. The belief that fed me—gone, like a snuffed flame.
Us gods weren't allowed to interfere with each other inside the white room, but outside that? The gloves came off. I was ambushed in one of my own temples and had nearly prevailed—right before one of my own betrayed me.
A holy relic I had bestowed on that very individual soon pierced my back.
I wiped them from existence. Soul and all.
But that moment had cost me everything.
Now?
Now I walk from ruin to ruin. Dig through the bones of what I used to be. Hoping maybe... maybe there's still a piece of me left somewhere. A reason to keep going.
After a few centuries? I just feel… exhausted. I feel like giving up. And yet, day after day, my feet keep moving. I keep searching for that one thing. But every few decades, I stop. I look at the sky. I lie down in the grass, close my eyes, and wonder if this is the time I finally let go.
If I wanted to die, all I'd have to do is stay still. Let it catch me.
But I don't.
I get up. I keep walking.
And each time I get close to giving up, I get a little nudge.
"OHHhhhh...eaaase...." someone or something whispered.
That feeling again. A faint cold thread tugging at my ribs. Someone had spoken my name. A curse. Not shouted. Not prayed.
Just whispered it quietly under their breath.
I felt the smallest spark of divinity flicker inside me. Not enough to heal. Just enough to hurt. Just enough to keep me breathing.
To keep me here.
I used to be able to return to the White Room. At least there, we couldn't touch each other.No ambushes. No betrayal. Just silence and judgment.
But that door closed a long time ago. I don't have the power anymore.
Now? There's nowhere left to hide.
I stopped at the edge of the broken altar and stared at the dust swirling through the air.
"Who are you?" I asked the silence.