Page 3 of Rise of the Gods: Vardor’s Destiny (Time for Monsters)

L ong before the sands took over what is now called Egypt, long before the Egyptians settled around the Nile, the land had been a paradise on Earth, filled with palm trees, green grass, fertile soil, and a thriving population. Ruled and governed by the ancient gods, three brothers, Maezharr, Xyphor and Draeven. Nobody knew where they came from or who they were; they had simply always been.

They ruled the lands for tens of thousands of years in peace and harmony. Villages grew into towns, and towns grew into thriving cities. The citizens build palaces and temples in the honor of the gods.

But like all beings—even divine ones—corruption festered where power went unchecked. At first, it was subtle, creeping in like a shadow stretching at dusk. The brothers, once revered as wise and just, began to see themselves as something more—not just gods, but kings of kings, rulers above all. Their pride swelled, and their desires sharpened into something insatiable.

Worship was no longer enough.

Their temples became fortresses of excess, filled with golden thrones, towering statues in their own likeness, and halls lined with the spoils of mortal labor. What had once been a divine bond between god and worshipper turned into something darker—a kingdom where the gods took and mortals gave until there was nothing left.

Their greed knew no limits.

The need for gems, gold, and offerings grew with every harvest, their appetites as endless as the heavens themselves. They surrounded themselves with chosen ones, mortals plucked from their lives and adorned in silks, living in luxury within the gilded prisons of palaces and temples.

Taxes rose, year after year, until the hands that once offered prayers in devotion now trembled with exhaustion. No matter how bountiful the crops, no matter how overflowing the storehouses, the people were left to starve at the feet of their gods.

And the gods did not see.

Or perhaps, they simply did not care.

Because what is a god without devotion? And what is devotion, if not absolute sacrifice?

Soon only the rich and the poor were left—nothing in between. Feast or famine was all we knew.

During these hard times, the influence of the gods' sister grew—an almost forgotten afterthought—Vaelora the goddess of Balance, the First Flame, Mother of Stars and the Unyielding Light, returned from the void where lost gods fade. She rose like a Phoenix from the ashes, even more beautiful than she had ever been. Her powers grew, commensurate with the number of people adoring her. The ones who worshipped her were the lost ones, the poor and starving.

She tried to reason with her brothers, tried to reclaim the balance that had once ruled the lands. But her brothers didn't listen. They resented her for her growing powers, for that meant theirs were diminishing. Gods only have the powers mortals give them.

So Vaelora came to me. She sought the greatest warrior that had ever been and ever would be. Oh, what a glorious day that had been. I had just returned from a successful campaign in Khesara. My army was camped outside the great capital of Orasis, Nemet-Xy, getting ready for the ceremonies the following day. Men were washing and scrubbing themselves of war, readying their armor until it would gleam under the sun. Nemet-Xy sent concubines to entertain the victorious army. The mood was light and on its way to a full, boisterous feast.

Nemet-Xy's grand priests sent more soldiers to watch the many prisoners we held, giving my men a chance to fully let loose and enjoy the fruits of our victory.

I left the camp with all its noise and smells behind. High Priest Raahet had invited me to his palace to ready myself for the glorious triumphal procession tomorrow, but I declined, like I declined all honors the high citizens of Orasis sought to bestow on me. I refused the palace they offered me, but I took the land, slaves, and house to give my mother and sisters a place to stay in comfort. Anything else, I rejected. I made no friends with the high citizens of Orasis. Neither their priests, nor their king and nobles. They regarded me with suspicion and only tolerated me because of my successes and because the army was loyal to me. They feared me for the same reasons.

My mother had warned me, but I had laughed at her. Nobody would dare assassinate me, for the wrath of my soldiers would be upon them without mercy. Everyone knew it.

Refusing any honors was the reason for my soldiers' unwavering loyalty. Riding into battle beside them—no different from the lowest among them— earned me their respect. I slept in the dirt, bled and sweated through every campaign, and fought at their side without exception. Always the first to rise and the last to rest, I led not from a throne, but from the front lines.

Any other time, I would have been right with them. Sharing the fire, the concubines and slaves. But not that night. An inner restlessness grabbed me just as I was about to sit down with Tavrek, my second in command, best friend, and brother in arms.

"That one," Tavrek pointed toward a blonde woman carrying a bladder of wine that seemed much too heavy for her.

I patted Tavrek's shoulder, "You enjoy her sweet juices, brother. I will join you later."

And with that, I left the raucous camp behind. I walked away from the fires, loud voices, and laughter until I reached the bottom of Mount Zayenna. The sky above was a sea of endless darkness, except for the moon, which hung at its center, a lone beacon casting its silver glow. Around it, a faint halo of light softened the void, but beyond that, the night remained an impenetrable black, untouched by its radiance. Trillions of stars shimmered in the distance, scattered like forgotten embers. No doubt, the priests could have traced their constellations with certainty, naming each one as they had for centuries. But I was no scholar—just a man beneath the vast unknown. I knew the name only of the star Vaelora, the one whose light guided me through the lands. She shone brightly, just like her name promised: The Unyielding Light .

Whatever power had dragged me here was beyond my understanding, but I didn't waste time questioning it. Faith was for weaker men. I had seen too much death, too much senseless slaughter, to believe in gods or fate. Yet, there she was—a vision both haunting and divine, the last thing I ever expected to witness. She stepped from the heart of the mountain, as if the earth itself had birthed her from its depths, sculpted her in secret, waiting for this moment. Moonlight kissed her skin, shadows clung to her like whispers, and for the first time in my life, I questioned whether gods truly walked among us. Me.

"Vaelora."

Though I had never laid eyes on her before, I knew exactly who she was. The knowledge was instinctive, ancient, woven into my very soul. Rising to my feet, I drew my sword, regretting that I hadn't taken the time to polish it. Dull or not, it was all I had to offer. I crossed it over my chest in deference before falling to one knee, head bowed. No mortal should dare to gaze upon such beauty.

And yet, I did.

Long, alabaster legs stepped into my line of vision, and despite the weight of reverence pressing down on me, I could not look away.

A gauzy dress fluttered around her legs from a slight breeze, making her skin appear even paler than it already was. Her feet were bare, her toenails colored in blood red. Small, golden chains decorated her ankles, making a slight tinkling sound with every step she took toward me.

Against my better judgment, my eyes rose up her long legs—well-formed and muscled in the right places. My neck burned when the dark triangle of hair covering her sex came into view. The gauzy dress she wore didn't do anything to hide her body and her nakedness.

Well-rounded hips, swaying sultrily with every move forward, followed by a tiny waist. So small, I was sure I could encircle it with my large hands. A diamond sparkled inside her belly button, and a gold chain was draped around her waist. My throat turned dry, even dryer than it had been after not having water for two days during our campaign.

Her breasts came into view, and my traitorous cock twitched, hardening at the sight. They sat high and proud. Dark nipples stood in the center, erect and hard. My throat worked as I dry swallowed. My fingers itched to cup her breasts, to suck on her nipples, but guilt flamed my gut. How could I desire a goddess? She wasn't meant to be touched by mortal men. By men like me.

Fragile collarbones and shoulders tapered into a long, elegant neck adorned with a wide, circular gold chain embossed with dark rubies.

A stubborn set chin moved forward with the same determination I sensed in every step she took. Full lips promised a pleasure beyond this world.

Her fine, straight nose was nothing like mine, which had been broken several times. The bluest eyes that would have brought a sapphire to shame took me in with haughty curiosity. Thick, black hair cascaded down her back in soft waves all the way to her waist. She was the most stunning, beautiful creature I had ever laid eyes on.

Had she not been a goddess, I would have ripped the ridiculous gauzy material off her, spread her legs, and plunged into her sex like a man possessed. I would have made her mine in every wicked way I could think of, and I wouldn't have rested for days. I would have made her mine until the end of time.

Not once in my life had I ever considered taking a wife. But with her? Just the thought of watching that beautiful flat belly of hers grow with my child bathed me in sweat and longing. I wanted her like I had never wanted anything or anybody in my life.

A small smile curved her lips up, as if she could read my thoughts. When she was so close that her sex was right in my line of sight, she paused. "Vardor? High Warlord of Orasis?"

Her melodious voice soothed me. "The one, my lady, at your service." I craned my neck to look up at her.

Her eyes were deep pools of the bluest blue as they regarded me. "You are said to be the bravest warrior who ever set foot on Orasis. They say your enemies shake in their shoes at the mere mention of your name?"

"That is said to be true," I acknowledged, adding, "My lady."

"You know who I am?"

"You are the goddess Vaelora," I stated, "and I am your humble servant."

Her smile intensified, a haughty eyebrow arched gracefully, "Something tells me you are anything but humble, Vardor."

The way she said my name made me crave her crying it out in the throes of pleasure while I thrust into her. I despised myself for my dirty thoughts of this divine goddess in front of me, but I couldn't help it. My cock ached in my leather pants to be sheathed in her hot sex.

"I'm sorry, my lady..." The words slipped from my lips, hollow and inadequate. What could I possibly say to a goddess? To a being who could unmake me with a glance?

I was a warlord, the mightiest of them all. Cities burned at my command; armies trembled beneath my banner. My name alone struck fear into the hearts of men, and yet in her presence, I was nothing but a fool—stripped of power, stripped of words.

A conqueror, brought to his knees.

A man who had commanded thousands now as tongue-tied and desperate as a youth about to taste his first forbidden pleasure.

"You don't ever have to be sorry," she purred and lowered herself to her haunches until she had to look up at me. There was something so wrong with this picture, so arousing, my balls contracted.

She licked her lips, making them glisten in the moonlight, raising my desire for her to unprecedented levels. It took all my willpower not to move, not to tackle her, not to claim those incredible lips of hers.

She tilted her head, "You want me."

"I..." my voice was nothing but a rasping breath.

"Tell me, mighty warrior," her slender arm moved up and forward, bracelets jingled like her anklets at her movement. She moved straight for my cock, languidly stroking its outline through my breeches. "Is your sword as hard and ready as this?" Her other hand indicated my bronze sword, still crossed over my chest.

"My lady?" Ah fuck. Had she been anyone else. Anyone besides a goddess, she would have found herself on her back with her legs spread wide underneath me. But she was a goddess, and I didn't dare move.

"What would you do to me, if I weren't a goddess?" she asked in a sultry voice, as precum leaked from my cock and sweat dribbled in droplets down my back.

A warlord had no use for the honeyed deceit of palace tongues. I wasn't ashamed of it, never had been. But for her, I wished I could offer words as smooth as flowing water, something worthy of a goddess.

It didn't matter. Words were not what she wanted.

Surprise may have stolen my breath for a moment, but I was not a man easily shaken. I knew when a woman desired me. And as impossible as it seemed, Vaelora—divine, untouchable Vaelora—wanted me.

And I was brazen enough to take what was offered.

I tossed my sword aside, gripped the fine material of her dress, and ripped it wide open in the center.

"I would kiss those lips of yours," I told her while pulling her into my arms, "I would knead those breasts of yours and suck your nipples until you plead for mercy. Then I would dive between your legs and taste your sweet ambrosia until you quivered underneath me, begging me to take you. Only then would I fuck you until you cried my name in never before known bliss."

She shuddered against my chest, her arms crossed behind my neck. "You sound very convinced you can do all this."

"Try me," I dared.

"Well warrior, take me, and we will see." She pulled my earlobe between her lips. Teeth nipped at it, making me groan. "Or maybe, we will just shorten this," she pushed against me until I sat on my haunches, then straddled me. Her hands moved from my neck to my pants, undoing the fastenings and pulling out the leather cord. The moment her hands encircled my cock, I knew I was lost. From then on until eternity, I was hers.

She sat down on my cock and sheathed it all the way into her perfect, warm, wet pussy. I grabbed her by her hips just like I had imagined earlier and raised and lowered her up and down my shaft, relishing in her warmth. Her body shuddered under my hands, her head fell back, and her back arched. I leaned forward and grabbed one of her nipples with my lips, sucking it into my mouth. Her mewls of pleasure drove me near the brink of insanity. My balls felt like they were on fire, constricting with the need to push my seed into her.

It took all my control to restrain myself from coming. Years of battle experience, mind over matter, won out. I jerked up and down in sync with my hands moving her. Her form began to glow like the moon. A golden light spilled over her, encompassing me. It felt like hundreds of thousands of needles pricking me all over my skin, but the pain was worth the bliss of driving into her pussy.

I thought she was giving me the greatest gift a goddess could bestow on a mortal man, right until she cried my name in her throes of passion.

"Vardor!"

Vardor...

Her voice ripped me from my dreams. My favorite. The beginning of us.

You need to be ready.

It was hard to tell if I was awake or asleep. Darkness surrounded me, but that's when I realized I could open my eyes.

What did you do to me ?

My mind cried, because my lips wouldn't comply.

Your just punishment for betraying me. Now be ready .

I should have been mad. Furious even. On some level, I was aware that she had made me sleep for thousands of years, but how could I be mad at my goddess? The one who had given me such pleasure, power, and so much more?

Vaelora wasn't a goddess of kindness or mercy. She was a goddess of balance, of what must be. She couldn't afford emotions. Which was why I had always known that her wrath would be boundless for what I had to do. But I didn't regret it. Never.

This time, though, when she woke me, it was different, and I hoped it meant she had finally forgiven me. Had I been able to, a smile would have tugged at the corners of my mouth. I loved her more than life itself. She was my core, the beat of my heart when it had still pounded inside my chest. Now there was nothing, a stillness that should have frightened me but didn't because I felt her with me.

"Who were you?"

This time her voice didn't just sound in my head, I could feel her presence. The sound of her voice was lighter than I remembered, with an accent I couldn't quite place, but it was her . There was no mistaking it.

I picked up a small sound, something I wouldn't have ever heard before, but it was there. The faint ping of a drop hitting the linen my body was wrapped in. The small drop saturated the material, and my dried-out skin underneath breathed the liquid in like life. Another drop. Elation rushed through me as I felt her presence flooding me.

The whisp of a hand brushed over me like a sigh. This time, I would not fail. I would prove to Vaelora that I was worthy of her love. Whatever she needed me to do, I was ready. As soon as my body was mine again, I would do her bidding, unquestioning, like I had always done.

My mind drifted back in time as I surrendered myself to memories of her. Memories that had sustained me for ten thousand years. Every day, every hour, every second of our time together was ingrained in my memory as I replayed them over and over.