2025-01-18 21:32:55
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Aldric’s Memory
Calen and Carmen stood frozen—suspended in light, but no longer weightless. The silver tendrils from the pendant retreated, dissolving into the void, replaced by a quiet hum that pulsed like a heartbeat. The cosmic darkness around them shifted, folded inward, and then—A scene unfolded before their eyes.Not a vision.Not a dream.A memory.But not theirs.They stood unseen, like phantoms, watching as a storm-torn battlefield emerged beneath a blood-red sky. Thunder rolled across blackened clouds, and the wind howled with unnatural fury. Enormous shadows filled the horizon—dragons—their wings blotting out the light, twisting through smoke and ash. Below them, armies clashed, magic clashing against steel, light against darkness. Screams echoed in the wind.In the heart of the chaos stood a man wreathed in roaring winds—his silver armor cracked but still gleaming, his eyes burning like molten mercury. A storm circled him, a tempest of fury that lashed out at the twisted horrors summoned
The Pendant and The Union
As the final echo of fleeing hooves faded into the mist, silence returned like a heavy shroud, pressing down on the clearing with suffocating stillness. The air, moments ago thick with violence and shouts, now felt eerie—hushed, reverent, as though the forest itself held its breath.Calen lowered his sword slowly. The steel gleamed faintly, catching threads of gray dawn, its edge still wet with blood that dripped onto the mossy ground in slow, deliberate drops. He scanned the clearing, his sharp gaze flicking between the two women—but it lingered longer on Carmen. Just a moment longer. A flicker of something unreadable passed across his storm-gray eyes.He stepped forward—measured, deliberate, as though approaching a wounded animal. The hem of his cloak brushed leaves and broken twigs, disturbed only by his presence. Morning mist swirled around his boots, reluctant to part for him.“Are you all right?” Calen’s voice was low, quiet—edged not with fear, but with a calm concern that almo
The Ambush
The pale light of dawn had not yet kissed the treetops when Carmen and Liora rode in silence across the mist-choked lowlands. The world around them was painted in shades of silver and slate, the air damp and heavy with dew. Their cloaks clung to their bodies, drawn tight against the biting chill that had not yet yielded to the sun. Even the horses' breaths steamed visibly in the air, soft puffs of white that vanished almost as quickly as they came.Nestled deep inside Carmen’s inner coat pocket, the pendant throbbed gently—cold against her skin, its pulse alien and dissonant, as if it beat to the rhythm of something ancient and watching. It felt neither alive nor dead, but aware—a silent passenger, ever-present and impossibly still.Their horses moved swiftly but cautiously, hooves softened by the damp loam of the forest trail. Each clop against the earth echoed a little too loud in the silence. Ahead of them, the outline of the Forbidden Forest grew ever larger, a jagged line of shad
It Make Sense
The silence that followed was not empty—it was heavy, like the aftermath of thunder on a battlefield, thick with the weight of things unsaid and truths too long buried. The runes beneath their feet pulsed faintly with a fading rhythm, as if the stone itself was trying to remember.Then Aelion spoke, his voice cutting through the stillness like a blade through silk. Low. Measured. Grim.“There’s more you must understand, Calen. Much more than what you’ve been told.”Calen turned to face him, the shadows playing across his features. His jaw was tight, eyes storm-dark, but attentive.Aelion took a slow step toward the edge of the rune circle. The ethereal blue glow danced along the hem of his silver cloak, throwing ghostly reflections against the obsidian walls.“Aerondale…” he began, his voice nearly a whisper, “nearly destroyed us. Not with numbers. Not even with strength. But with knowledge.”He glanced at Calen, his gaze sharpened like steel drawn under fire.“They used what they had
How He Died?
Calen’s voice broke through the silence again—quieter than before, but heavy, as if each word had to push through a lifetime of unanswered questions.“Then… how did my father die, exactly?”The question echoed faintly within the ancient chamber, swallowed slowly by the glowing runes that pulsed beneath their feet like the heartbeat of something sleeping—something dangerous.Serenya turned to him, her expression softening. There was something in her eyes—grief, yes, but also reverence. Respect. Even guilt. She drew in a breath, then let it out in a slow, pained exhale.“He used everything he had,” she said. Her voice was quiet, but unwavering. “His strength, his sword, his life… all of it. He gave everything to seal this place. To lock Tharstan away before his wrath could burn the world to ash.”She stepped forward, her boots making no sound against the smooth stone, and approached the edge of the platform. There, the vast ring of runes shimmered in a spectral glow, pulsing gently bene
History of The Past
Serenya and Aelion exchanged a glance—heavy with memory, grief, and something more elusive.“It began,” Serenya said slowly, “with your father.”Calen’s brows knit. “What?”Aelion stepped forward. “Your father… was among the first envoys sent from Aerondale. His mission was simple, or so it seemed: to serve as a diplomatic gesture. To live among us. To learn our ways. But more specifically… to train the daughter of King Tharstan in the art of combat.”Calen’s breath caught. “The daughter of the king…?”Serenya gave a faint, sad smile. “Her name was Elira. Princess Elira Tharstanis. The fairest soul in all of Drakhtarion. Her beauty was known across the realms—silver hair like moonlight, eyes as deep and endless as the ocean. But it wasn’t just her beauty that captured hearts… it was her strength. Her wisdom. Her kindness.”Aelion nodded solemnly. “And your father fell in love with her. Against all odds, against all the rules.”Calen stepped back, stunned. “Are you saying…?”“Yes,” Ser
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