Prologue
Standing atop a cliff, overlooking the endless sea, stood Kaelith, the Eternal Sovereign.
As a four-dimensional being, his perception of the universe differed vastly from that of mortals.
To him, the waves below, the shifting sky, and even the land itself were nothing but a frozen painting—stretched across time and space, seen all at once.
Even the little boy sprinting toward him, arms flailing with excitement, was but a flicker in the river of eternity—a brief attachment that was here for a moment, but could easily be gone the next.
"Grandpa! Grandpa!" the child called, his laughter bright, unburdened.
Kaelith turned, his golden eyes softening.
"Look! I made a drawing today—of us, in a garden!"
The boy's excitement was boundless. But in his rush, he tripped.
His small frame hit the stone path, and a sharp yelp escaped his lips as his knee scraped against the ground.
Kaelith chuckled.
With a flick of his hand, the winds lifted both the boy and his drawing into his arms. Another gesture, and the wound on the boy's knee vanished—erased as if it had never existed.
The boy giggled, clutching onto Kaelith's neck, but then, curiosity flickered in his eyes.
"Grandpa, do you never get hurt?"
Kaelith smiled faintly.
"No, little one. I exist outside of time. Even if I were ever injured, I would simply correct it."
The boy blinked in confusion. "Correct it?"
Kaelith's golden gaze drifted toward the horizon. He took a moment before explaining, choosing his words carefully so the young child could follow.
"Imagine time not as something you move through, but as something that already exists—every moment, every second, all at once. A mortal lives in a single instant, bound by it. But a being like me?"
He lifted his hand, fingers curling slightly.
"If I were to be cut in this moment, I would simply step into another moment. One where I was untouched. To you, it would look like healing, like immortality. But to me... it is simply a small correction."
The boy's brows furrowed in thought, his young mind trying to grasp something far beyond human understanding.
After a moment, he looked up again, his voice quieter this time.
"Not even by a mighty sword?"
Kaelith let out a low chuckle. Instead of answering immediately, he pointed at the drawing still clutched in the boy's hands.
"Look at your drawing. If you gave yourself, here in the picture, a mighty sword... Do you think that the little you, in this drawing, could cut the real you?"
The boy hesitated, glancing down at the crude, childish sketch.
A stick figure of himself stood beside an exaggerated version of Kaelith, flowers and trees drawn haphazardly around them.
His small fingers traced the figure of his drawn self, imagining a sword in its hands.
Then he giggled, shaking his head. "No, of course not. It's just a drawing."
Kaelith's smile returned, ever so slightly.
"Exactly. Just as a two-dimensional drawing cannot harm you, a three-dimensional being. A three-dimensional weapon cannot harm me, no matter how well built, for, the blade of a sword is as meaningless to me as ink on paper."
The boy's eyes widened in fascination. "Then... gods really can't be killed? Not ever?"
Kaelith hesitated.
For a moment, the wind stilled.
The waves below, once rhythmic and soothing, seemed to slow.
The boy had asked an innocent question, but its weight was anything but.
After a long pause, Kaelith finally exhaled, his voice dropping lower.
"Oh, no... plenty have died."
Kaelith's golden gaze darkened, his thoughts drifting somewhere far beyond the present.
"There was a time when even gods feared death."
The wind picked up, the once-calm waves below thrashing violently against the cliffs.
"When the Timeless Assassin walked between the moments, even gods trembled in their beds at night."
"He hunted us like prey, with a blade that could sever eternity itself..... and even the strongest among us fell before him."
The boy's heart pounded in his chest. He had never heard his grandfather speak like this before.
"But... but he's gone now, right? Such an evil man, he must have perished right?" He asked, as Kaelith let out a deep sigh.
"Killed during the Great Betrayal, two thousand years ago.... And no God has died since–"
The boy clutched the drawing tighter, but his young mind struggled to grasp the enormity of what he was hearing.
The Timeless Assassin.
The Great Betrayal.
For him, it was nothing more than a fantasy story. But to Kaelith, it was a scar—one etched into the fabric of reality itself.
For a while, Kaelith brooded in silence, but soon he turned back to the boy, his expression unreadable.
"But eternity is long, little one. And history has a way of repeating itself."
"Let's pray that the past stays buried, because if it rises again... even gods will tremble."