He didn't speak. He didn't kneel. He didn't save them the way they wanted.
When the gods fell, Vidar walked away. No crown, no prophecy, no last stand-just silence and the blood of myth behind him. But the world won't let go of what he left behind. In whispers, in lies, in stories rewritten to fit what hurts less, his name survives.
Now, Vidar is done running. Through shattered villages, broken altars, and the cults built in his shadow, he faces what silence becomes when others shape it. Not peace. Not truth. Control.
This is not a tale of vengeance.
This is the story of what comes after.
Of a man who refused to be a god-and what it cost the world to finally hear him.
His name was Vidar. He stayed.