The ethereal winds howled, echoing a spectral lament, as Everess stood poised atop what seemed to be a celestial canvas—an illusionary reflection of the sky itself. Beneath her, the ground stretched endlessly, mirroring the heavens above in a captivating dance of ethereal symmetry.
This was the Mirror Realm. The atmosphere, however, diverged starkly from the calm she once knew. Clouds, darker and more abundant, wove intricate patterns across the sky, their formations unpredictable, stirring an unsettling aura. Restless winds, like unseen phantoms, whispered untold secrets through the air, and the sun, out of its usual celestial order, hinted at a disconcerting twilight.
“It is not as bright as I remember this place to be, Lyo,” she mused, her gaze sweeping over the surreal panorama. At her side, Lyo materialized, a divine messenger of the Gods and Animos.
“This realm,” Lyo elucidated, her voice transcending the physical and resonating with ethereal enchantment, “is but a reflection of the world’s tapestry. Changes there reverberate through this delicate in-between.” Her words, riding the howling winds, etched themselves not only upon the air but also within the recesses of her mind. The winds, carrying whispers from distant oceans, enveloped her, prompting a deep inhalation as she sought to absorb the secrets woven within.
“Do you harbor doubt in me, Lyo?” she questioned, her voice a soft counterpoint to the relentless winds.
“Doubt has never lingered within me,” Lyo replied, gracefully moving along the reflective surface as if drawn towards an enigmatic destination. “I merely convey what I observed.”
Her eyes twitched, their focus trailing Lyo’s ephemeral path. “My plan unfolds as intended. If I can just maintain this momentum that I’ve gained this recent years, we may sever this problem at its roots,” she declared, determination echoing in her words as they mingled with the symphony of the winds, weaving a narrative of purpose within the celestial tapestry of the Mirror Realm.
“Weeds, no matter how diligently you unearth their roots, possess an uncanny resilience,” Lyo remarked.
“This particular weed revealed itself; I’ve sensed it gnawing at the edges for years. I’m closing in—I can feel it,” she asserted with unwavering confidence, though her face betrayed a subtle conflict.
Lyo shifted her gaze deliberately toward her. “Hasn’t the suffering you’ve endured for five years proven not enough?” The messenger’s eyeless gaze bore into her soul. “Your people were destined for greatness, yet your ancestors veered onto a different path,” Lyo continued, distancing herself.
Caught off guard by what she just said, she furrowed her brow, lines etching themselves across her forehead as she grappled with the weight of Lyo’s words.
Ancestors chose a different path? The phrase reverberated in her mind. “What do you mean?” she inquired, hastening to follow Lyo’s retreating form.
“There are truths you are not yet prepared to confront, Grand Sage. Understand this: in time, you will confront them all,” Lyo spoke enigmatically, leaving her to grapple with the echoes of uncertainty that lingered in the air.
“I’ve been doing your bidding for the past five years. I would like to know exactly what is going on and what the plan exactly is,” she exclaimed as her heart raced. Frustration clearly was welling up.
“All you need to know is that you are the linchpin in all of this. The key,” Lyo declared.
But she refused to accept the vague proclamation. She felt as though she had been toiling in the dark for five long years, receiving scant answers or clarity regarding the grand design. Since her arrival, she had been consistently told the same cryptic answer—that she was the orchestrator, the Key, tasked with ensuring the manifestation of the Gods and Animos’ intricate, yet vague plan.
“I have told you time and time again: I will not be your key if you persist in withholding the details of what it entails!” she vehemently shouted. Abruptly, the mirror realm seemed to be forcibly yanked from her surroundings.
In a blink of an eye, a shroud of darkness enveloped everything, stretching as far as the eye could perceive. She looked around to see if there were any signs of light, or something, or even someone, but the darkness remained impenetrable.
Then, faintly, she heard the echoes of screams and the crackling of fire. Moments later, a familiar sound reached her ears—the distinct whistling and screams of magic orbs, the most basic spell in their arsenal.
How dare you defy father’s dying wish!
The words, though faint, struck her with clarity. Turning towards the source, she discerned a figure standing amidst the inky blackness, encircled by a luminous white aura.
The figure turned slightly towards her, revealing skin as pristine as porcelain and locks of hair that shimmered like the purest silver. It was unmistakably a man. Floating towards him, she closed the distance until he stood directly in front of her.
“It is nice to finally meet you,” the man spoke, his words echoing in the vast darkness surrounding them.
An icy embrace enveloped her suddenly, visible in the fog that formed with each breath. Stammering, she managed to ask a question, “Who are you?” as the cold tightened its grip.
The man averted his gaze, facing the abyss beyond. “I wish our meeting could have happened under better circumstances,” his voice resonated. “However, I must insist now, as we have no time.”
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Her heart tightened as if clenched by an unseen force, making each breath a struggle. “What are you—” she began, grappling with the overwhelming sensations.
“We have crossed a threshold,” the man declared, turning back to her. In response, she dropped to her knees, hand clutching her chest. “You need to act.”
Abruptly, she found herself back in the mirror realm. The tight, cold grip on her heart disappeared as quickly as it had descended. Catching her breath, she gazed ahead and saw Lyo in her ethereal glory.
“Grand Sage?” Lyo called out. “Are you alright?”
She stared at Lyo, a mix of confusion and awe etched across her face. This visionary experience was unprecedented in her five years — and it even happened within the Mirror Realm. The perplexity of its occurrence, especially in this ethereal space, left her questioning the nature of the unfolding events.
“Did you meet him?” Lyo’s voice sliced through the stillness like an abrupt gust of wind, compelling her attention towards the ethereal being. The eyeless gaze that met hers carried a profound knowing, sending a shiver down her spine.
Struggling against the persistent fatigue clinging to her limbs, she summoned the strength to push herself upright. “Do you know who that person is?” she inquired, her eyes searching Lyo’s expression for any glimpse of the unfolding revelation.
Lyo’s featureless face remained stoic, and a sigh escaped her lips, as if weighed down by a profound secret. “Yes,” she conceded, her solemn admission casting a chilling pall over the room. “It is regrettable that you had to.”
A torrent of questions flooded her mind, a mix of curiosity and apprehension. “What does it mean? What does it signify that we crossed a threshold?” Her voice carried an urgency, a desperate plea for answers, but Lyo’s silence persisted, an impenetrable barrier withholding the sought-after revelations.
The unspoken knowledge hung heavily between them, and a profound quiet settled over the room. The air itself seemed to hold its breath, anticipating some revelation to fracture the mounting tension.
Taking a hesitant step closer to Lyo, her eyes implored the ethereal being to share the guarded secrets. “Lyo, please,” she urged, her voice a whisper laden with unspoken fears.
Lyo, however, remained resolute, her gaze unwavering as she turned away. The wind gusted once more across the plain of reflections, and she stood at its center, yearning for a guiding light. As she waited for Lyo to unravel the enigma enveloping them, shadows lengthened, casting a veiled obscurity over the elusive truth that lingered just beyond reach.
“There are matters that I am not at liberty to say, Grand Sage,” Lyo stated, then gracefully moved forward.
“What is happening?! Who is that person?” she shouted in frustration, but her pleas fell on deaf ears as Lyo continued her advance.
“Grand Sage, you must bear in mind that these machinations—these plans—are not of my devising. They stem from the Gods and the Animos—your deities. Whether you accept it or not, their will shall always prevail,” Lyo emphasized, blatantly ignoring her inquiries.
“I refuse to succumb to this kind of pressure, especially when the lives of thousands, even millions, hang in the balance. Let it be known that you — they — have designated me as the guardian responsible for the stability and peace of their world. It is a burden I willingly carry. Yet, the Gods and Animos’ plan is evidently absurd and undermines the very responsibility they’ve bestowed upon me. I possess the capacity to discern and decide for myself, and I choose not to blindly follow that path,” she asserted, momentarily silencing Lyo. “There must be another way,”
Lyo remained silent, a shadow of concern crossing her features. In all honesty, she had already encountered formidable obstacles in her pursuit of a better solution.
“You no longer have a choice. The Gods and the Animos no longer have a choice. This is the only way left, Grand Sage.”
“I will find a way. And if I don’t, then I will ensure the realization of the Gods and Animos’ plans,” she declared, her voice resonating with a blend of determination and a subtle tremor. The weight of her words lingered in the air, met only by Lyo’s unwavering, eyeless gaze.
With an unwavering determination burning in her eyes, she drew in a deep breath, as though absorbing the essence of the challenges that loomed ahead. Closing her eyes briefly, she immersed herself in a moment of introspection, grappling with the monumental task before her. In that fleeting darkness, she connected with an inner strength—a force that fueled her steadfast commitment to a purpose greater than herself.
Upon reopening her eyes, the breathtaking panorama of Sanctum unfolded beneath her. It stood as a testament to the city’s grandeur and the weighty responsibility entwined with its leadership. The central citadel, akin to a sentinel at the heart of the metropolis, stood tall, symbolizing power and authority.
The wind caressed her hair, carrying with it the whispers of the far east. Below her, the bustling life of Sanctum wove a vibrant tapestry, with diverse souls navigating their destinies within the protective walls of the city.
Descending gracefully to the platform atop the citadel tower, she strolled toward the edge; the sky painted with the hues of dusk as night gradually overtook the horizon. Shades of orange and pink receded behind her, casting a warm glow over the sprawling landscape. In that moment, the weight of her daunting task pressed down on her shoulders, though she resolutely refused to acknowledge its magnitude.
Her gaze shifted as she sensed an anomaly from the north. Focusing in that direction, an unsettling feeling permeated her senses. In the southern reaches of Katricod, within the Agun’der Mountains, an undisclosed tomb lay hidden, its name faded by the passage of time.
Within the tomb’s cold confines, Imperial soldiers lay lifeless on the stone floor—once formidable, now reduced to remnants of a failed defense. Amidst the scattered bodies, a mysterious figure cloaked in a hood moved with an eerie, deliberate grace. Shadows danced on the walls as the enigmatic figure silently glided past the fallen, leaving in its wake a haunting trail of death and desolation.
The sole surviving guard, his armor marred by both his own blood and that of fallen comrades, summoned the last dregs of his strength to crawl toward the exit. Each agonizing movement reverberated with the desperation fueling his survival instinct. The tantalizing taste of freedom seemed almost within reach, just beyond the tomb’s threshold.
However, as he approached the perceived sanctuary, the hooded figure materialized before him—a foreboding silhouette against the dimly lit passage. Panic and dread etched across the soldier’s face as he implored for mercy. “Please, have mercy! I beg you!” he stammered, his voice choked with fear and desperation.
Remaining indifferent, the hooded figure, an enigma shrouded in darkness, extended a hand. The tomb itself recoiled with a sharp, bone-chilling screech, and a red light enveloped the space, casting an eerie glow that foreshadowed impending doom.
In an instant, the soldier’s pleas were silenced, his existence snuffed out by a force beyond comprehension. The air hung heavy with the aftermath of an otherworldly display of power, and the tomb echoed with the haunting quiet of death.
Unfazed by the carnage left in his wake, the hooded figure pressed on with relentless determination. Gliding past the lifeless bodies, he moved purposefully toward the far end of the tomb. There, he halted before a massive stone door adorned with the imposing insignia of the Trodonar Empire. Ominous energy crackled in the air as the figure surveyed the engraved emblem, hinting at a deeper, more sinister purpose concealed behind the sealed entrance.
End of Chapter III