Torn walked along the road merrily, longsword hanging from his belt and shield slung over his back. Aside from his clothes, and the spear which doubled as a walking stick, it was all he was carrying. He hadn't been on the road for more than a few days, and his spirits were soaring. That dream is a prophecy. I know it. I just know it. For a full week, he'd been having the same dream every night, as vivid and vibrant as spring. The first night, he thought it was just a result of boredom. Life in a village was dull. Endless harvests, plantings, freezing in a cottage for want of proper walls, the herding of cattle, the scooping of their muck, the plucking of weeds, all to eat dull slop and get a night's rest on straw laid across planks. That's no life.

The dream never changed in the slightest. He'd stand in a darkened corridor of crude stone, with nothing but his own bright blonde hair to illuminate it. Before him would be scores of terrible things, things which would have scared him to tears a mere week ago. Now, the thought filled him with a vicious hunger. It was as if fear had become foreign. Boredom had become lethal. Obscurity a curse. Thinking back on his dream, where he stood tall with blade in hand as angels and demons both sang praise to his legacy, his heart soared. He never imagined feeling such passion. He hadn't been passionate about anything since childhood, the first year after he was washed ashore after an accident at sea. His memories had all fled him that day. And it used to haunt him. Now, compared to what Torn was certain was the call of destiny itself, even that seemed like nothing.

Suddenly, Torn heard song. To his left, where he could swear there was naught but solid mountainside before, there was now an opening into a cavern. Torn felt his head spin from the sound. All memory of where - and when - he was fled him. Torn simply stood and looked at the entrance, thuroughly enthralled, before his mind snapped back into focus. It's the song of my dreams. He quickly drew his spear and shield, and grinned. What used to be terror, but now was pure exhilaration, brought his heart to pounding. There was nary a moment of hesitation. He stepped in, not bothering with a light.

Torn couldn't begin to tell how long it took before the song faded. Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Had days gone by? He couldn't tell, and he couldn't care. He could see. The pitch blackness from before gave way to lights, and Torn got a strange sensation that he was treading on holy ground. It didn't unnerve him. In his heart, he knew he was destined for greatness, and whichever god held residence here, he was invited. Was it a challenge? In the tales, there were usually trials. Torn pressed on, ignoring the paths on the sides of the cavern. The allure of wealth and love and beauty that they eminated held no sway over him, for to stand and bask in the light of divinity was the only glory he deemed worthy. Then he arrived. The fork in the road.

Torn looked to his left, and saw a chest. It was open, and empty. An empty chest in a temple? Sounds more promising than a full one. He walked over to it and read the inscription. So this path requires me to strip down, and enter as I was made. Torn looked to the other path, and read the inscription on its archway. An easy choice. I was made a lowly farmer, but I aspire to greatness. The noise coming from that tunnel was indistinct, like a distant whisper. Torn steeled himself, and advanced.

At first, there was nothing standing in his way. The whipser, indistinct, didn't grow louder, as he had expected. In a heartbeat, it vanished entirely. Hm. Guess the magic of this cave couldn't show me my fears, as I have none. Torn kept advancing, losing track of time again. Then, suddenly, he saw. Walking in the opposite direction was a veritable sea of people. They were all scruffy, hunched, and pathetic, their faces blank, gaunt, and altogether forgettable. They didn't make a sound. The silence was absolute. Noone looked at him. Several walked right into him, and failed to notice him even then. You bastards, I'm right here! Let me pass! Torn tried to scream it, but the cave had stifled him completely. He couldn't make a sound. He clanged his spear to his shield, but the silence was still absolute. Even his own heartbeat was muted entirely, leaving Torn to tumble into madness as the complete silence of his existence threatened to swallow him. Torn pressed on, gritting his teeth in defiance. Nothing, NOTHING shall keep me from my destiny! The crowd marching past him grew thicker. Forcing his way through became difficult. He fought, and fought, pushing past one before being pushed back by another, drowning in a sea of the average and the forgettable. What will you do, force your way through? They're too many. Hold your ground and wait for them to pass? A man cannot wait for his destiny, he must claim it. Turn back, give up? Out of the question. Kill them? No, they're innocent. Innocent. They're just there, and cannot help you. There, in your way. They're in your way. In your way. You cannot kill them, you'll become a demon. Something stirred in Torn's stomach. What of it? The dream had angels and devols both singing praise. They're in your way, and so they are your enemies. Enemies are not dictated by hostility, they're dictated by the times, and by your circumstances. If you're not willing to fight your enemies, your destiny will elude you forever. Torn gritted his teeth. He braced his spear. And he charged. All who stood before him fell, their cries muffled by the insignifigance of their existence. And just like that, Torn was through. The crowd vanished.

Before him, Torn saw another chest. It seemed similar to the one in the fork in the road, albeit the rules this time seemed different. Only weapons and armour need be left behind. Torn looked at the chest, perking an eyebrow. The challenge from before had already become a distant memory. Torn put his weapons and shield in the chest, before thinking back on the fork in the road. To hell with it, might as well do both challenges! Torn then proceeded to strip down entirely, leaving all his posessions in the chest and advancing further wearing only his own dashing looks. Torn, in his glee and childish giddiness, completely overlooked the robe which was offered him on a peg further down the road.

Torn stepped into a large cavern with a mirror lake in the middle. Torn walked towards it curiously, squatting by the water and looking into it. His reflection stared back at him, clear as day. Torn was blessed with three things: Athletic physique, a handsome face, and luck. Torn admired his own reflection for a few minutes, even going so far as posing for an imaginary audience, before walking toward the main chamber, across a bridge spanning the lake. The soft brush of air against his naked body was soothing, and the temple itself held beauty of many kinds. Torn allowed himself to absorb it. To tell tales of one's advenrtures is glorious, too. I must remember this place. He had a huge smile on his face, as he stepped through the archway leading to the temple's main sanctum.

The sensation hit her like fingers softly sliding down her back but she did not move. More likely, she did not care. There was another guest in her temple but she was going to continue to walk through the city. There were so many people yelling out in the bazar trying to bring people to their stalls that she could barely hear herself think. The Goddess spent little time in her temple. She would return there often but it was mostly only to sleep. She loved being in the mortal world. She wanted to be able to watch the citizens. Most never even noticed she was there unless she brought interest to herself. She was no different than anyone else if someone were to look at her.
 
Her soft pink dress danced in the breeze around her as she made her way towards a quiet corner. There was the smile kind smile on her lips that almost always rested there but her eyes watched everyone curiously. She did not buy anything nor did she have any want for anything that the bazaar had to offer. She had almost everything that she could want in her life. Living a life as a deity was not as thrilling as people thought it was.
 
The shiver coursed her spine again causing her to release a sigh. A few heads turned to look at her but they all turned back to what they were doing as she continued her walk. She made her way towards a darker corner of the city and ran her fingers through her loose, chocolate curls. It appeared she did not have much time left. Her eyes began to glow a bright green as she vanished from the area. No one even noticed her disappear. A city bustle could hide almost anything happening.
 
”And I was having so much fun.” Her soft voice muttered out musically but there was no deny the small whine to the words. Every time she tried to do something fun someone just had to come and ruin it. She wondered what this person wanted that entered her temple. It was a strange which caused many whispers from the clergy that remained in the temple. Perching on her throne, she sat sideways with her legs handing over the other arm. She was always bad at using the throne the correct way. It just was not fun.
 

” Come in, come in.” Rhea called out with her hazel eyes watching the opening to the throne room. She knew that he was almost to her and she could not help but feel the excitement hit as she watched curiously.  She had paid a little attention to what he had been doing in her temple before this point, but she was far more curious to know he came to her.

Torn stepped into the temples throne room, ignoring the clergy milling around. They were not why he was here. He scanned the room, seeing many beautiful things - architecture, tapetsries showing scenes of bloody battle and intense love - a moasic floor with a myriad of pictures and designed, flawlessly melded together into a single stunning piece of art. But Torn's gaze quickly fell towards the back of the throne room, whereupon rested a single beautiful woman. As Torn's gaze drank in the visage, he felt a pull in his gut. She is power and beauty, she is perfection. Torn felt a twist in his heart, and his passions were awoken in full.

He approached, his naked form tensing with anticipation. His heart beat like a thundering war drum, his gaze burned with unbridled desire, his smile a promise of things to come both to himself and all who witnessed him. But his passion, his desire, had nothing to do with the beauty of the woman before him, but rather what that beauty meant. I am approaching a god. All at once, his dreams of fame and glory came alive around him. Torn could see the great deeds he would do, he could hear the shrieks of dying monsters and the cheers of the masses praising his actions, and he could feel the pain of every wound he would suffer - and overcome. The excitement of combat, the feel of a lover's flesh touching his, the rush of the chase, the pride of the trophies he would collect, he could feel it all. And even so, he remained undistracted. All his focus, all his intention, was given in full to the exquisite woman lying across her throne, awaiting Torn's approach.

And just like that, Torn stood before the goddess, his gaze locked onto hers, determined to know what she would see in him. But Torn was not blind to the rest of her. He took a breath, and smiled cheekily. "I present myself to you, who can only be a goddess, for your consideration."