The legend of the child sent by God

In the bustling city of Erisia, the day had begun like any other. The streets were alive with the hum of market vendors, children laughing in the squares, and the distant clatter of horses' hooves. Yet, something had changed—something unseen but felt by all. It began as a quiet murmur, spreading from one person to another, until it became a full-blown panic.

The Tower of Light stood in the heart of the city, its shimmering spire reaching high into the heavens. But on this particular day, something had happened that no one could ignore. A brilliant light erupted from the tower, flooding the sky with a radiance so pure and blinding it seemed to halt time itself. It stretched across the land, visible for miles, and in an instant, the legend that had long been whispered in secret circles resurfaced.

"The one sent by God..." the elders muttered, eyes wide in fear. "It is the sign. The one who will bring the end."

It was the story told in hushed tones, a tale of a child born to change the world—either to save it or to destroy it. No one knew which. The light of the Tower was the first sign. The second would be the coming of a great disaster, an event so catastrophic that it would leave the land in ruin.

Those who had witnessed the light were filled with dread, unsure whether the promise of salvation or the threat of destruction was the truth. But the fear was palpable. People huddled in their homes, whispering about the light, as if speaking too loudly might summon the disaster faster.

Word spread quickly, and soon, every corner of Erisia and its neighboring cities echoed with the same tale: The one sent by God was here, and disaster was coming. The church, its sanctuaries brimming with anxious worshipers, had already dispatched its priests to scour the cities, searching for any sign of the child. They spoke of prophecies, of ancient scrolls that warned of the one who would come to either heal or destroy. It was a race against time—find him before the disaster began, or risk losing everything.

In the royal palace, King Alaric of Erisia sat in the dimly lit war room, his brow furrowed as he listened to the reports from his generals and advisers. The light from the Tower had reached even the most distant corners of the kingdom, and rumors had already begun to reach his ears—rumors of strange phenomena, mysterious happenings, and whispers of the one sent by God.

The king leaned forward, his hands clasped in front of him. His voice was steady, though it carried the weight of a kingdom's fear.

"We cannot sit idly by as the land trembles with fear," he declared, his tone resolute. "We will not be caught unprepared. Begin raising soldiers, magicians, and scholars. We must be ready for what is to come."

He turned to his military commander, a seasoned warrior named General Kael, who had seen his fair share of battles.

"General, gather every able-bodied man and woman in Erisia. Train them for war. Prepare them for what is coming."

Kael nodded, his face grim. He knew well what was at stake. "As you command, Your Majesty. But I fear we may not be ready in time."

The king's expression hardened. "Then we must be ready sooner. The disaster will not wait for us to catch up."

Turning to the royal magister, a wise and ancient sorceress named Lady Isolde, the king continued, "Lady Isolde, I need you to assemble the kingdom's most powerful magicians. If this is truly the sign of the end, we will need every ounce of magic we can muster."

The old woman's face was as unyielding as stone, though her eyes held a flicker of worry. "We are already gathering the most skilled mages from across the kingdom. But there is little we know about this disaster, Your Majesty. The prophecies are vague. They speak of a tower's light and the one sent by God, but no one can agree on whether this child is a savior or a harbinger of doom."

The king's gaze hardened as he stared out of the window at the distant, glowing Tower. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, the weight of his crown heavy on his mind.

"We will find him before the church does," King Alaric muttered under his breath. "And we will ensure that when the time comes, we are the ones who stand ready. The fate of the kingdom cannot fall to uncertainty."

Outside the palace, the city had descended into a state of unease. The streets were filled with the sounds of hurried footsteps and hushed conversations. People locked their doors and pulled their children close. The air was thick with tension, and the once-bustling market square now seemed eerily silent.

A group of travelers passed through the city gates, their faces drawn and weary. They had seen the light of the Tower from the hills, and now they sought shelter in Erisia, hoping to escape whatever disaster was foretold. Among them was an old woman, her back hunched with age, yet her eyes were sharp and unyielding.

"They will come," she whispered to her companions. "The church will search for him, and the kingdom will fight. But it will be the people who will decide the fate of the one sent by God."

She glanced up at the Tower, the light still burning bright against the backdrop of the setting sun. Her gaze narrowed, and she muttered a prayer under her breath. It was a prayer for hope, but also a prayer for the one who would carry the weight of the world.

In the days that followed, the people of Erisia waited, watching as their king's army prepared for war, as magicians gathered in secret chambers to study ancient tomes, and as the church expanded its reach across the land. The Tower of Light still blazed, its glow now a constant reminder of the prophecy, and the dread that had taken root in every heart.

But somewhere, beyond the city walls, the one sent by God remained hidden, unaware of the storm gathering on the horizon.

And so, the countdown began.

The disaster would come soon.

And no one was ready.