Stolen From the Sacrificial Pyre
By @john1208
I woke up in the pouring rain at a lavish funeral, holding the chained collar of the man I was supposed to execute. Vachir was the Zulmari beast-general - feared, brutally enslaved, and doomed to die as a cannon-fodder grave offering for the arrogant 'Chosen Ones'. Not on my watch. I dragged my former battlefield rival away from the capital and hid him in the remote, snowy Whispering Crags. My plan? Heal his shattered body, dodge the furious protagonists, and turn him into the unstoppable god he was meant to be. It isn't easy. I have a fiery temper, and he has a mountain of prickly, hostile pride. But as the quiet days pass, accompanied only by my bizarre six-legged moth-ferret, Pebbi, Vachir's bitter glares soften into a fierce, suffocating devotion. We are finally happy. But there is a cruel twist the transmigration system never mentioned: the creeping black frost on my wrist. My soul is dying, and my time across these worlds is almost up. When the man who finally learned to love me realizes my clock is ticking, will his newfound godhood be enough to rewrite my fate?
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