Page 32 of Rise of the Gods: Vardor’s Destiny (Time for Monsters)

T he moment I stepped into the King's Chamber , something inside me stirred. A hum just beneath my skin, an old whisper threaded through my blood like a memory I had forgotten how to recall. My pulse quickened, and the sensation of being watched set the edges of my senses on fire.

"This was not built for men," I muttered, my voice barely more than a breath.

Roweena turned toward me, frowning. "What do you mean?"

I stepped closer to the stone sarcophagus, running a hand along its rough edges. "These walls should be covered in inscriptions, offerings, and tributes to the dead. Every other tomb in this land—every monument to a king—was made to honor their passage into the afterlife. Isn't that what you told me?" I gestured to the stark, unmarked walls around us. "But there's nothing here. No writing. No gods. Just stone and silence."

She shivered beside me. "Then what was it built for?"

Before I could answer, the air shifted. It was subtle at first, just a change in the weight of the chamber, the faint hint of a breeze that shouldn't be there. And then—a shadow moved where no shadow should be. I turned sharply, my hand instinctively reached for a blade that was no longer at my hip.

A man stood in the entrance to the chamber, half-lit by the torches lining the walls. He was tall and broad-shouldered.

A ghost.

My breath left me in a slow, measured exhale. No. Not a ghost. Something worse. "Asharat," I murmured.

Roweena tensed beside me. "Who is he?"

I couldn't answer. I could only stare. Because Asharat should have been dead. Ten thousand years gone, buried with the rest of the past. But there he was, solid, breathing, and unchanged. The way he looked at me made me think he had been waiting all this time.

"Asharat," I said again, louder this time.

A slow smile curled over his lips. "It took you long enough."

The sound of his voice sent something sharp through my chest—memory, recognition, disbelief. The last time I saw him, we stood on the edge of war. Vaelora's war. He had been my right hand, my brother in arms, my second in command, my best friend. And then, I had been put to sleep.

He should be dead, like the rest of them.

But he wasn't. I could only think of one reason he was still alive: Vaelora.

I took a slow step forward, watching him through narrowed eyes. "You should be dust and bone by now."

Asharat chuckled. "So should you. But our goddess is not so merciful, is she?"

Something cold crawled down my spine. I glanced at Roweena, but she was already looking at him with sharp curiosity, her fingers twitching as if memorizing everything about him.

Asharat's dark gaze flicked to her, then back to me. "She told me you would return. That I would know you when I saw you." His eyes trailed over me. "You look the same."

I clenched my jaw. "So do you."

"You mean I should have aged?" He laughed, stepping further into the chamber. "Vaelora made sure I wouldn't. She needed me awake while you were sleeping."

The weight of his words pressed against my ribs. "Why?"

His expression darkened, and his lips pressed together before he answered. "Because she is the goddess of balance and vengeance. Because she wanted to punish me as much as you."

Guilt rushed through me, guilt for what I had asked of him to do. The death sentence I had put on him with my request. A request he had accepted without hesitation.

"She had a plan, Vardor. A long one. She was never going to wait for fate to move things into place. She did it herself," Asharat continued.

Roweena stepped closer, her voice quiet but steady. "What plan?"

Asharat looked at her as if he already knew exactly who she was.

"To be reborn as mortal," he said simply. "To set the pieces in motion. And to bring you back here, to this place, so you could finish what she started."

Roweena's breath caught, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. She was Vaelora, even if she didn't feel like her. But this was bigger than even she had imagined. And somehow, I already knew there was more.

I turned back to Asharat. "The pyramids," I said. "If they were not meant for men, then what are they?"

A slow smile curved his lips. "A beacon."

His words woke dread inside me.

"A beacon for what?" Roweena asked cautiously.

Asharat's gaze focused fully on her. "For you," he said. "For you to find your way back here."

"What did she do to you?" I asked him.

"Vaelora had no intention of losing both of us. You, she sealed away. Me? She gave eternity."

A smile tugged at the corners of my lips. That sounded like my vengeful goddess. She left me in darkness. But Asharat? He had remained awake for ten thousand years. I probably should have felt anger. But all I felt was the weight of something inevitable coming for us.

"You've been waiting here all this time?"

Asharat nodded. "Since she left to be reborn. She tasked me with waiting for you. To bring you back to her."

I frowned. "Back to her?"

Asharat's smirk widened, but there was something unreadable in his expression. "You still don't understand what this place is, do you?"

I glanced at the empty stone sarcophagus and the unmarked walls and took in the chamber's eerie silence. "This isn't a tomb."

"No," he agreed. "It never was."

Roweena looked between us, unease emanating from her entire being. "Then what is this?"

Asharat stepped forward, his boots echoing in the stillness, and placed a hand against the farthest wall. For a breath, nothing happened. But then we heard a resonant click as the stone groaned and dust drifted from the edges as an unseen mechanism locked into place. Right before our eyes, an entire section of the wall shifted, revealing darkness on the other side. A hidden passage.

Roweena let out a slow breath, and her pulse thrummed so loudly I could hear it.

Asharat turned back to me, his expression dark with knowing. "This is what she left behind," he said. "What she built beneath the sands. And now, it's time for you to see it."

The air grew heavy with expectation, and the weight of Vaelora's will pressed down on me. The hidden door yawned open, revealing darkness beyond the threshold. Roweena hesitated for the briefest moment before stepping forward. I followed. Asharat led the way, his steps steady, as if he had walked this path a thousand times before.

The passage was narrow, its smooth walls lined with torch sconces, though none were lit. The only light came from thin, glowing lines carved into the stone, pulsing faintly—not from fire, not from the sun, but from something deeper, something older.

The floor underneath our feet was slanted, leading us down. With every step, the air grew warmer and thicker with moisture, something I hadn't expected. I should have been able to hear the heartbeat of the desert above us, the weight of the sand pressing down—but there was only silence.

And then, as we stepped through the last passage, the corridor opened up into something vast. Roweena sucked in a sharp breath, and I froze right at her side.

Before us stretched an impossible city, hidden beneath the earth, teeming with light, movement, and life.

The space was colossal, a vast cavern that should not exist, held up by massive stone pillars carved with symbols from Vaelora's and my time. The walls stretched so high that they disappeared into shadows. Angled shafts pierced the ceiling, allowing light to filter down in beams that illuminated sections of the underground world like divine torches.

And the people. Hundreds—thousands—moving through the streets, tending to crops that should not grow here, drawing water from an underground river that wound through the city like a serpent. The structures were smooth, carved from pale limestone, marked with glyphs of worship.

Roweena stepped forward in awe, "This... this isn't possible."

She was right. This shouldn't be possible. But this was Vaelora's true city, the one she had hidden away beneath the sands.

Asharat strode ahead confidently; the people noticed his presence immediately and bowed. Then their eyes shifted—to me. And they dropped to their knees. My pulse thundered in my ears. They had not forgotten me. They were worshipping me.

Roweena let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. "I—Vardor, they know who you are."

I swallowed hard because my throat was suddenly dry. Vaelora. She had done this. She had kept my memory alive. Kept me alive. "They've been waiting."

She turned to me, eyes wide with understanding. "They've never been to the surface, have they?"

Asharat shook his head. "No. They are the last of her chosen. The people she saved, the ones who swore to remain until she returned. They have lived here for thousands of years."

Roweena looked back at the people kneeling before us. "Then they're waiting for me, too."

I studied the crowd, noting the way some murmured prayers, while others simply stared, eyes full of silent hope. Waiting for Vaelora to return to them. Waiting for me to lead them.