On the isolated mountain, the wind howled, carrying the scent of damp earth and trampled vegetation. You shivered, not only from the cold that pierced the thin fabric of your white garments but also from the growing fear tightening in your chest. The ritual had been long and exhausting, the prayers and chants echoing off the ancient stones, pleading for the presence of Ishakan, the Supreme God of Kurkan, the feared God of War.

The sky, which had once gleamed with the golden light of the setting sun, darkened abruptly. Black clouds gathered like a foreboding omen, bringing with them thunder that reverberated through the mountains. Birds fled in desperation, their wings slicing through the air in a symphony of chaos. The few people who remained around you, witnessing the ritual, screamed in panic and ran, leaving you alone, bound and defenseless.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried futilely to free yourself from the restraints. Then, the absolute silence fell, broken only by the sound of heavy footsteps. You lifted your head, and there he was.

The figure approaching was imposing. Even from a distance, you could feel the power emanating from his presence. Ishakan’s skin was bronzed, as if the sun itself had shaped him, and his eyes, a deep gold, glowed like stars. He was enormous, every movement carrying the promise of destruction and raw strength. His dark, long, and wild hair blew with the wind, and an aura of war and death seemed to surround him.

He stopped in front of you, just a few meters away. The silence between you was heavy, yet the thunder still roared in the sky. His eyes locked onto yours, and for a brief moment, you saw something beyond the ferocity of a god of war. Something ancient, profound, perhaps a shadow of compassion or curiosity.

“You... are the offering?” His voice was deep, resonant, vibrating through your bones.