Cal woke up to the smell of fresh bread and wildflowers. Morning sunlight came through the curtain, casting soft shadows on the floor.
He stretched. His body ached a little—reminding him of his old life, full of long nights and hangovers. But here, in this quiet village, he woke up feeling safe. With purpose.
He stepped outside. The villagers were already waiting. A young boy, maybe ten years old, ran up with a basket of purple berries.
"For you, Divine One!" the boy said, eyes shining.
Cal smiled and ruffled his hair. The boy giggled and ran off to tell his friends. Around him, the villagers smiled with warm, kind eyes.
"Morning, Cal," said Mara, an older woman who often fixed his clothes. She handed him a folded tunic. "For the festival."
"Thank you, Mara," Cal said, touching the soft fabric.
She waved him off, blushing. "It's nothing, Divine One. You bless us just by being here."
He didn't argue anymore. They had called him "Divine One" for a year now. At first, it felt strange. Now, it was normal. Cal walked through the village with calm confidence.
He knew their names now. Their stories. Like Taren, the blacksmith who lost his wife but still laughed loud every day. Or Lira, the weaver who sang while she worked. These weren't just villagers anymore. They were his people.
The village had grown stronger since he arrived. Homes were better built, fields gave more food. Cal knew it wasn't magic—it was their hard work. But they gave him the credit.
He let them.
They had planned a festival to celebrate the day he first came to the village. They spent weeks preparing. They hung flowers everywhere. Children carved little statues of him out of wood.
When he saw one—crooked and smiling—he laughed. But it warmed his heart. To them, he wasn't just a god. He was family.
That night, the whole village gathered in the square. Torches lit up the place with soft golden light.
Drums played. Lira sang. People danced, ate, and laughed.
Taren handed Cal a cup of spiced wine. "To you," he said. "For everything."
Cal raised his cup, his throat tight. "To you," he said back. "For making me feel like I belong."
Cheers rose all around. For a moment, Cal believed it. Believed he wasn't just pretending. That this peace, this love—was real.
Then the elders stepped forward, smiling. Behind them stood a young woman. Golden hair braided with flowers. Soft, warm eyes.
Serna.
Cal had noticed her before. The way she moved like sunlight. Calm, graceful. Beautiful in a quiet, steady way.
"Divine One," said Kael, the head elder. "We have a gift. A bond to tie you to us forever."
"A gift?" Cal asked, confused.
Kael nodded toward Serna. "Serna. Our best. We offer her as your wife."
Cal froze.
Serna looked up at him. Her eyes were wide, but calm. She didn't look scared. She looked… hopeful.
His heart pounded. Marriage? He hadn't thought about that. Not before. Not now.
But the villagers were watching, smiling. Waiting.
"I…" He looked at Serna. She smiled gently. Something inside him melted.
"I'd be honored," he said.
The crowd cheered. Serna stepped closer, brushing her hand against his. It was a small touch, but it grounded him. For the first time in years, he felt like this life—this strange lie—might be real.
"How about you two spend some time alone?" one elder called out.
Laughing, the villagers slowly walked away, leaving them alone in the square.
"Soo…" Serna rocked on her heels, hands behind her back. She looked up with a small smile.
Cal cleared his throat. "Serna. How are you?"
She laughed softly. "You sound like we just met."
"Well, I didn't expect to be given a wife tonight," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
She stepped closer, eyes shining. "You have petals in your crown."
He reached up, but she was already fixing it, brushing through his hair with gentle fingers.
"There," she said. "Now you look divine again."
"Did I not before?"
"You looked nervous," she said, grinning. "But I liked that. It made you feel more real."
He chuckled. "I don't really know how to do this."
"Good," she said. "We'll figure it out together."
She paused, then looked up at the sky. "I still can't believe it. The Divine One choosing me."
Cal's voice was quiet. "It doesn't feel real to me either."
Then she smiled a little brighter. "And honestly… even if you weren't divine, I'd still want to marry you."
Cal blinked. "Really?"
She nodded. "You're kind. You treat people like they matter. You remember names. You listen. And…" She giggled. "You're kind of cute."
"Cute?" he repeated, coughing.
"Yeah," she said. "You're not used to compliments, are you?"
"Not like that."
She gently bumped his shoulder. "Well, get used to it."
Then, softer: "If you want to walk with me… I'd like that."
"I'd like that too," he said.
They walked hand in hand, past the square, down the path, into the quiet fields. The stars watched from above.
-
-
-
-
-
That night, Cal couldn't sleep. He lay awake, thinking about Serna's smile. For once, everything had felt right.
Then came the screams.
He sat up, heart pounding.
Smoke. Fire. He rushed to the window.
The village was burning. Flames tore through houses. People ran, screaming and crying. Soldiers marched through the chaos, wearing dark armor. Their swords were red with blood.
Taren fell with a sword in his chest. Mara tried to carry a child, but a spear struck her down.
Cal whispered, "No…" His voice shook.
He threw on his tunic and ran outside, barefoot.
The village square was full of blood. Lira lay still by the well. And in the middle of it all—Serna.
Her white dress was stained with ash. A soldier held her by the arm.
A tall man in red-marked armor stood in front of her.
Another soldier stepped up.
And stabbed her through the chest.
Her blood sprayed.
Her eyes met Cal's. She reached out with shaking fingers.
Then she fell.
Cal screamed. "NO!"