The gods had used us.
We were there to fulfill their prophecy, yes. To carry on our shoulders the tale they had carved into the heavens. But they had never promised us comfort. Never tenderness. Never protection.
They saw in us neither heroes, nor children, nor even beings.
Just tools.
Fragments of power, temporarily useful.
We were not the jewels of a world seeking renewal. We were pieces. Moveable. Sacrificable. Breakable.
And once worn out, once cracked by battle, by choices, by pain... we would be replaced. Thrown off the board.
That was what we were, in the eyes of the great.
Pawns on a vast chessboard, where every move is decided by hands that do not bleed.
And yet...
In this colossal pit, in this arena devoured by noise, magic, and fervor, my eyes finally found what had always guided them.
Their faces.
My former companions.
