Thousands of people gathered for the Descent, bringing their children for the one day that mattered more than any other in Eryndor.
It was the day a dead god would arrive.
Yet no one mourned.
There were no tears, no silence, no grief. Instead, the air carried excitement, pride, and a quiet tension that pressed against the skin, because this was not a funeral but a celebration, a ritual repeated every year for longer than anyone could remember.
At the center stood the stage, vast and elevated, guarded by figures in golden robes. Each robe bore the insignia of the gods, a dying star caught in the moment of collapse. They stood unmoving, almost lifeless, as though they were not protecting the ritual but were part of it.
Beyond them, the crowd stretched endlessly.
Families wore deep blue robes marked with the same insignia, their children standing beside them with expressions that tried and failed to hide what they felt. Some were excited, some nervous, and some stood caught between both, their futures only moments away from being decided.
"Our son will receive the Domain of Light."
"No, look at him carefully, it will be Blood. Strong, direct."
"He might even receive something higher."
The voices overlapped, filled with belief, expectation, and ambition disguised as certainty.
I stood among them, watching it all unfold.
Like every year, I was only a spectator. I wasn't old enough, not yet chosen, just another face in the crowd waiting for a future that hadn't arrived.
Beside me, the movement of the crowd shifted slightly as someone passed by.
I didn't need to look to know who it was.
Venuza.
Tall, broad, and irritatingly confident, even for someone about to face the Descent. His grey hair caught the light as he walked, and for a moment he looked as though he already belonged on that stage, as if the outcome had already been decided in his favor.
He slowed just enough to glance at me, a smirk forming like it had been waiting for the moment.
"What's wrong, little guy?" he said casually. "Don't worry. I'll be back with Iron Will."
I let out a quiet laugh.
"You deserve Forgotten Names, Venuza."
He didn't react.
Not even slightly. He just kept walking, as if my words had never reached him.
That was how he had always been. Focused only on what mattered to him, everything else fading into nothing.
I watched him disappear into the crowd and shook my head.
It still didn't make sense how someone could change so much in a single year. Fifteen didn't seem like much, but on him it felt like a completely different world.
The sky did not break all at once.
A low thunder rolled across Eryndor, deep enough to be felt before it was heard, followed by winds that cut through the crowd and carried with them a strange, restless energy, as if the world itself was preparing for what was about to descend.
Something fell from above.
No one could see it clearly.
It burned with a blinding golden light, so intense that even those wearing protective lenses turned away, shielding their eyes. It was not just brightness. There was weight in it, presence, something that made looking at it feel wrong.
The clouds roared without pause as the rain began.
At first it came unevenly, scattered drops that struck the ground and vanished, but within seconds it grew heavy and relentless, soaking robes, turning dust into mud, and filling the air with the scent of wet earth.
No one moved.
No one complained.
They cheered.
The sound rose from the crowd in waves, filled with excitement, reverence, and something deeper that bordered on devotion, because this was the moment they had all been waiting for.
Through the storm and light, the body reached the stage.
As it did, the brilliance faded.
The form vanished from sight, sealed within a massive container placed at the center of the platform. It was covered in gold and embedded with diamonds, not as decoration, but as containment, as though what lay inside needed to be restrained as much as it needed to be honored.
The guards stepped forward in unison.
One of them stood above the rest, wearing the same golden robes but marked by a crown-like crest that signified his authority. When he spoke, his voice carried effortlessly through the storm.
"All children from the region of Tazkia, assemble on the mark."
There was no hesitation.
Families stepped back while the chosen children moved forward, their blue robes darkened by rain, their expressions shifting as they crossed the line between waiting and becoming. They formed a perfect circle around the platform, exactly as they had been taught.
For a brief moment, everything stilled.
Then the container responded.
A low hum spread through the air as faint light pulsed beneath its surface. The golden glow had dimmed, but something within it remained active, alive in a way that did not feel natural.
Liquid began to seep from its edges.
At first it looked like water, clear and thin as it dripped downward, but the moment it touched the ground it changed, thickening as it mixed with the mud, forming a shallow, reflective pool around the children's feet.
No one stepped away.
They had been taught not to.
"Place your hands on the vessel," the guard commanded. "And receive your Domain."
One by one, the children stepped forward.
They pulled back their sleeves, ignoring the rain and the strange liquid beneath them, and placed their hands against the surface of the container before closing their eyes.
Silence followed.
Even the crowd held its breath, watching, waiting.
The storm continued above, but down below everything narrowed into that single moment.
Seconds passed.
Then something shifted.
The crowned guard raised his hand, his voice steady as he delivered the result.
"The region of Tazkia… has received the Domain of Incompetence."
I laughed when I heard it, the reaction slipping out before I could stop it.
Venuza was standing among them, and after all his confidence, after the way he carried himself as if the result was already decided, this was what he received.
The Domain of Incompetence.
It wasn't the worst, not like Forgotten Names, but it was close enough to shatter expectations. I could almost see his expression, the brief moment where certainty would crack before he forced it back into place.
For a second, I thought he might turn and look at me.
But no one laughed.
The silence that followed was heavier than anything before it. Parents who had been smiling just moments ago now stood still, their pride fading into something they tried not to show. Disappointment settled quietly among them, unspoken but undeniable.
No one questioned it.
Because Domains did not make mistakes.
That belief stood unchallenged.
Another thunder rolled across the sky, breaking the moment as the ritual continued. The clouds split once more, and a second body began its descent, just as brilliant and overwhelming as the first.
At the same time, the previous vessel was moved aside and set aflame.
The fire burned unnaturally clean, consuming everything without smoke or resistance until nothing remained. It was not destruction. It was erasure, as if that god had never existed at all.
I watched without speaking.
Around me, the ritual continued as it always did. Five regions stood beneath the fractured sky, each waiting for their turn, each tied to a different part of Eryndor.
Tazkia had received theirs.
Next would be Forulo, then Jusain, then Hukuzania.
And finally… Veguila.
My region.
Every year, five bodies descended. Every year, five regions received their Domains. The order never changed, and no one questioned why.
People said Domains were not random.
They believed they reflected who you were, your actions, your nature, and the person you were meant to become. It was something I had heard since childhood, repeated often enough to feel like truth.
I had believed it too.
Maybe I still did.
But belief did nothing to ease the thought that had begun to settle in my mind.
Next year, I would not be standing here watching.
Next year, I would step forward.
And for the first time, as I looked at the stage and the burning remains of a god, a quiet realization formed that I could not ignore.
I wasn't ready for what awaited me.