The promises king

The stillness lingered as both figures stared at each other. Malenia had that unusual smile on her face while Martin was simply confused.

The world they were in was like a dream, the endless still ocean along with two throne placed on flat ocean.

Martin sat upright, breathing uncontrollably while holding his neck trying to process everything that occurred.

His chest rose with steady rhythm. His violet eyes glowed faintly in the moonlight, until he realized his vision was sharpened, his teath become slightly sharpened and even his nails.

Confusion furrowed his brow as he stared out at the infinite black water.

He was alive—but not himself.

Across from him, seated upon a mirrored chair sculpted from white moonstone, the woman watched with grace beyond mortal understanding.

Malenia.

The Maiden Goddess of Moon and Water.

She rose without sound, the hem of her gown skimming the water as she walked forward. Each step rippled outward like the, "You feel better," she said, her voice was smooth and sweet, "I'm afraid that your little companion form was needed to improve your body."

Martin blinked confusingly as he clawed dig into the throne, "Who are you talking about?"

Malenia extended a hand. "Do not fear, my Confidant. When I repairing your form, I noticed a corpse on your lap. That belonged to a wolf." she mentioned, "So I decided to alter your genetic so to posses some of the wolf capabilities."

Martin looked down at his hands, hardened his hand muscle which extended his claw, "Why...who are you? Why am I—" Then he remembered his father's blade slashing his throat.

"I was supposed to be dead...where am I?" he asked finally, "Am I dead?"

"You were, but I simply brought you back." Malenia replied gently. "I wasn't going to let my Confidant die so early. Especially since he posses an ancient soul."

Martin's gaze narrowed. "Ancient soul?"

She flicked her hand, a sphere of water form projecting countless images, "Long before your people built their kingdoms… long before the war between nations and empires began… this world was watched by the ten maiden of creation. But Father told us that we must leave the mortal plane and let the children of the ancient govern the world in our place."

The projection turned to an image of ten different types of throne, her eyes locking onto his, "And you, Martin Page… was born with the soul of the ancient. Like my other nine sisters, my duty is guided the ancient souls to their destiny. Not just you but the other nine ancient."

Martin trembled by what he heard, "By the Gods, not only am in the presence of one, but I was chosen by them. Why? Why me?"

The water projection broke down, "No one understands our fathers reasoning," Malenia said softly, "but we must understand that there is a reason for their decision."

She got up from her throne and stepped closer, "You chose to protect. You chose to carry your mother's memory. You faced beasts, storms, men—and even your own blood."

Her fingers brushed his cheek again, cold but gentle.

"And that… is why he now choose you."

Martin lowered his eyes. "My father… he said something. That he was trying to stop the war. That I had done my part. What does that mean?"

Malenia's smile faded.

"Theodore Page walks the edge of madness and purpose," she said. "He seeks to end the war by bending the world's fate to his will. But he serves another power now—one born of ruin and decay."

Martin looked up. "Then he's… not himself?"

"No," she said. "He is both himself and something more. A vessel to a demon."

She paused.

"And one day, you must stand against him."

Martin stiffened. "I'm not ready."

"You are not meant to be," Malenia replied. "You were meant to die."

She held out her hand once more, and light gathered in her palm—forming a silver pendant shaped like a crescent moon.

"But now… you are something more. My Confidant. The one who will carry my voice into the waking world. My sword. My shield. My whisper in the dark."

She placed the pendant against his chest. It dissolved into light, sinking into his skin.

Martin gasped.

Memories not his own rushed through his mind—visions of ancient cities drowned beneath tidal waves, of moonlit temples, of silver thrones in halls of crystal. Of a promise made long ago beneath a sky without stars.

Then, silence.

Malenia knelt before him, regal and radiant.

"Martin Page of Ycracuse," she said. "Do you accept the mantle of Confidant? Do you vow to carry my will? To protect what remains? To end the war by any means?"

Martin looked into her eyes—violet, like his.

"I… I accept."

Malenia closed her eyes, and smiled, "Then rise, my Confidant," she whispered. "For the world now waits for your return. If you need my guidance, seek me in your dreams."

The ocean trembled.

Light enveloped the throne.

And Martin was gone.