It was deep and feminine, but it held a chorus within it—a voice of many waters, as if an entire sea had been given speech. Each word echoed through the air like ancient hymns carved into stone.
"I am Kronen," she said, a sound deep and feminine, but it held a chorus within it—a voice of many waters, as if an entire sea had been given speech. Each word echoed through the air like ancient hymns carved into stone. "Goddess of War and Blood. First of the Immortals. The Progenitor of your people, the Velarians."
'What the heck did she just say?'
Lucian blinked, stunned by the sheer absurdity of what he had just heard. A goddess? His ancestor? He scoffed, to question. Everyone that gains a drop of power seems to think that they should be reviered and worshiprd. But the raw truth in her voice clawed at something in his blood—like a buried instinct awakened from a long slumber.
Kronen uncrossed her legs and stood from the throne with elegant finality. Her armor clinked softly, and the golden-red skirt fluttered around her as if caught in a phantom breeze.
She stepped off the throne and hovered gently above the water, her feet not touching the surface but suspended just inches above. With each step, the very air beneath her feet shattered like glass—crystalline bursts that dissipated into glowing mist as quickly as they formed.
Lucian watched, unblinking, as she approached. Up close, her presence was even more imposing. She stood taller than him, maybe six-foot-five-ish, her burning brass skin aglow with divine vitality..
"Do you know why I brought you here?"
Her voice was gentle this time, almost curious
Lucian shrugged his shoulders at the ridiculous question.
"You tell me. I was a bit busy getting my ribs shattered and all."
Kronen's expression didn't change. Not angered. Not amused. Simply… observing.
She turned without a word and walked past him, her steps continuing to shatter the air beneath her feet, until she reached the pillar—the one that had burned his hand with its judgmental carvings.
Lucian followed, more cautious now.
When she stopped, the pillar's carvings shimmered, then moved. The images within became alive—a living mural telling an ancient tale.
She reached out and touched the pillar.
"Thousands of years ago," she began, "when the world was still young and gods were whispers in the wind, I was no more than flesh. But I was no ordinary woman."
The carvings showed a younger version of Kronen—face painted with war-ink, blades in both hands, standing at the head of a vast army of armored warriors. They marched behind her like shadows of doom.
"I was a warlord. A conqueror. A general who commanded nations. Men and beasts alike fell before me. Cities turned to ash. The cries of my enemies were music to my ears."
The scene shifted to Kronen atop a mountain of corpses, a single banner raised behind her bearing the serpent crest that now adorned her armor.
"I became unstoppable. And eventually… even death feared me."
Lucian narrowed his eyes. Immortal? Was such a thing even possible?
"For centuries, I reigned. Mortal still—but unaging. I drank from the chalice of time and found it tasteless." Her voice grew more distant, melancholic.
The image changed again. A mysterious figure clad in light approached the warlord Kronen with a scroll.
"Then… a messenger arrived. A divine herald. He bore a decree from the gods themselves."
Lucian leaned in, watching the carvings unfold like a divine theatre.
"I was to ascend. To Annwn—the realm beyond realms, the sanctuary of gods. My feats had caught their eye. I, the blood-soaked mortal queen, was chosen to join them."
The carving showed the sky ripping open—an enormous fiery rift appeared, from which emerged a chariot of flame, drawn by two majestic steeds ablaze.
"I accepted without hesitation. After all… I had grown bored of this world and now desired greater conquests, celestial wars, divine wonders."
Lucian watched as the young Kronen climbed aboard the chariot, her hair swept by holy winds. The carving ended with her vanishing into the rift.
Kronen turned toward Lucian now, and for the first time… there was a flicker of something behind her golden gaze.
Regret.
"But I was a fool."
She stepped away from the pillar. The air around her shimmered with rising heat.
"What awaited me on the other side was not godhood... but a cage."
Lucian frowned. "A cage?"
"Annwn was only a paradise for those who submitted their free will to it. For me it is a prison. I was not welcomed—I was bound. For a mere human my power was too great. My hunger too wild, how dare i have dreams and ambitions. They feared what I might become… So they trapped me in the utter most void of this realm ."
Lucian's eyes widened.
"Then… if you are trapped like you say you are, how am i here?"
Kronen smiled—but there was no joy in it.
"Because you called me. Not with words… but with action. With defiance. You broke fate not once, but twice. You stared into the maw of death and spat in its eye. That strength—the will—that belongs to me. That is the fire of the Velarian bloodline. My blood."
Lucian gave her an appalling stare. The thought of his resistance and will all being because of her didnt sit well with him.
Yet so much made sense now—his endurance, his instincts, the way he could fight even when logic said he should fall and the curses that defied nature itself. All the pieces of the puzzle semed to be coming together yet he felt that something was missing or that she withheld a few important details.
Kronen's voice softened.
"You are no mere mortal, Lucian. You are my kin. Made to suffer by the hands of those who rule over this world and yours.
She approached once more, kneeling slightly to meet his eyes.
Yet this time lucian didnt react.
So I ask you, not as a goddess, but as your ancestor… will you take the mantle? Will you fight not just to survive—but to free me from this prison and so that we can exact our revenge on those that made us suffer.
Lucian met her gaze, his expression now calm and cold. His body still battered.
"Are all goddesses full of shit or are you just the exception?"
Kronen's grin widened at Lucian's cutting words. Golden flames dancing on the water reflected in her eyes like stars set ablaze. For a moment, she looked truly divine—regal, powerful… and entirely unrepentant.
"My, my… when did you figure me out?" she purred, her voice shifting into something laced with amusement and cruelty.
Lucian rolled his eyes, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and disdain.
"I had my suspicions from the moment you started with your bullshit story. But the moment you lowered yourself to meet my eyes?" He gave a dry, bitter chuckle. "That was the giveaway. You were playing nice… too nice. Someone like you—someone forged in conquest and pride—doesn't kneel. Not unless you want something. That's when I knew. You weren't here for me. You were here for you."
Kronen rose slowly, her golden armor glinting like the scales of a serpent basking in sunlight. Her grin shifted—no longer proud, but darkly delighted.
"So sharp. I wonder… was it the blood I passed down, or did the world make you this bitter?"
Lucian didn't answer. He didn't need to.
"You weren't lying, though," he continued, voice low but steady. "That story you told—it rang too true to be fiction. But the part where you claimed the gods cursed my people?" He tilted his head, eyes narrowed. "That was a lie, wasn't it?"
Kronen's expression didn't falter. Instead, she laughed softly, as though Lucian had finally recited the punchline to a joke she'd been waiting centuries to hear.
"You're right."
The pillar behind her shimmered again, revealing a new carving—one long hidden beneath the surface. It showed a man, cloaked in shadow, kneeling before Kronen. His features were obscured, but the resemblance to Lucian ancestors was undeniable. A pact was struck—bound by blood.
"The Velarian curse of madness and suffering was not a divine punishment handed down by the pantheon. It was mine. A punishment… for betrayal."
Lucian stepped closer to the image, his eyes scanning every detail. A single question clawed at his mind:
What would a being a powerful as kronen want from mortal men?
Then like a candle flaring in the dark, the answer struck him.
'Freedom.'