Chapter Fifty:

“The Call to Destiny”

The grand hall of Oakspire, once a place of wisdom and deliberation, now roared with chaos. What had once been a place for the gathering of scholars and leaders, now echoed the panic of a Realm on the brink.

The tiered stands, built in sweeping arcs of carved stone and woven vine, held Eldorians of every race, their voices rising in furious debate.

Near the upper stands, a three-tailed Kitsune male jabbed a clawed finger toward a Dwarven woman in an elegant cloak.

"Everything was fine until the Players arrived!" he snarled, tails lashing behind him.

The Dwarf spat onto the stone floor. "I thought they were here to save us, not damn us!"

From the lower levels, the Players pushed back, their voices clashing against the Eldorians’ anger.

"We didn’t ask for this!" one shouted.

"We’re only trying to help, to earn our place here!" another called, frustration sharp in their voice.

"It wasn’t them," a firm Eldorian voice cut through. "Didn’t you hear about the mask?"

Silence swept the hall, voices dropping into an uneasy quiet.

“The Dark One.”

The words moved through the air like a curse.

"Could it really have been him?" someone whispered.

Emily sat in the same seat she had occupied last time in this hall, except now, she sat alone.

Before, he had been beside her.

The weight of that realization crushed her. How had she let him fool her? The arrogance, the way he spoke, the way he looked at everything and everyone like he was already ten steps ahead of them. It had been there all along. She had just refused to see it.

Then, it struck her.

Goddess.

Her stomach churned. She remembered it so clearly now, after his outburst, after his fake breakdown, he had said it.

“Goddess.”

No one had caught it. No one had questioned it.

He had been toying with them the entire time.

A fresh wave of fury burned through her veins. How could she have even considered...

No. She wouldn’t even let the thought finish.

Loving him?

The very idea made her feel physically ill.

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A voice cut through the tension, pulling her back.

"Please, everyone, calm down! All is not yet lost!" Arch Scholar Elarion stood, his voice carrying across the hall.

The shouting softened, and then, slowly, silence.

Arch Scholar Elarion’s voice carried across the hall, steady but grim. "The Guardians have not been killed. When threatened, they take on a new form—gemstones, infused with their essence. They have simply... retreated."

Relief stirred among the gathered Eldorians, but it was short-lived.

"However," Elarion continued, his expression tightening, "The Dark One now possesses them, and their absence will be felt across all of Eldoria. Not immediately. Not catastrophically... at least not yet. But make no mistake, the Realm will feel their loss."

Whispers turned into uneasy silence as his words settled over them.

"The seasons will shift unnaturally. Some lands may find their skies windless, stagnant, while others will be battered by storms that never cease. Nature itself will begin to wilt." He let the weight of it linger. "If The Dark One is not stopped before he reaches the remaining two Guardians, Fire and Ice, then we may not have a Realm left to save."

A voice from above called down. "The Dark One has tormented Eldoria for centuries! What makes you think he can be stopped now? It seems like he’s doing better than ever!"

Emily rose to her feet before she even realized what she was doing.

"We know where he’ll be," she said, her voice cutting through the unrest. "If he’s going after the other two Guardians, then we start there. We know his next move."

Silence settled in the hall for a long breath before someone above scoffed. "And you expect us to just tell you where they are? After what just happened?"

Another voice followed. "She must be dreaming!"

Elarion lifted a hand, and the hall quieted once more. "We must put faith in our prophecies," he said. "We may not yet know who the swordsman of legend is meant to be, but I can sense destiny in the young archer who stands before me."

Emily met his gaze, resisting the urge to look away.

Elarion’s expression turned grave. "Unfortunately, the location of the Guardian of Ice is known by only one being. And that knowledge is... complicated." He did not elaborate, and no one dared press him for it. Instead, he turned back to her. "The Guardian of Fire, however, I do know of. But he lies beyond our reach, across the Celestial Sea, in Aetheria."

Tension gripped the gathered Eldorians, uncertainty hanging in the air.

Elarion continued, "No vessel has successfully crossed the Celestial Sea since The Dark One began his assault on the Realm. Every ship that tried was swallowed by the horrors that lurk beneath its surface. Eventually, the sea was abandoned. No one sails it now."

Emily drew a slow breath, frustration mounting. Perfect. Now what was she supposed to do?

The stir within the Grand Hall faded as a new sound took its place, a low, groaning creak that sent an uneasy shudder through the gathered Eldorians and Players alike.

It was distant at first, a mere trace in the air, but it grew steadily, a grinding wail that spoke of strain and decay.

Emily rose to her feet, heart pounding. The sound, it felt eerily familiar, though she couldn't place why. A resonance of something vast and impending.

Confusion and dread began seeping in as the noise deepened into a chorus of groaning wood, snapping vines, and the heavy rustle of leaves falling before their time.

The crowd surged toward the massive doors of the Grand Hall, spilling into the towering city of Oakspire. Eldorians gasped, Players cursed under their breath.

The very essence of the city had begun to wither. The lush green canopies that had once stretched endlessly above were thinning, their leaves turning brittle and dry.

The massive tree-trunk homes, once pulsing with life and magic, creaked under unseen pressure. Bridges that had always felt sturdy underfoot now swayed, their roots pulling back, retreating from the structures they once held so securely.

Emily stared, a heavy stillness settling inside her. Oakspire was slowly changing.

No, not changing, dying.

Slowly.

“This isn’t right,” someone protested.

A thick vine that had once adorned a high balcony of the Grand Hall sagged, its vibrant green dulled to a sickly yellow. It snapped under its own weight, crashing onto the walkway below, sending a group of Eldorians stumbling backward. More structures groaned, their foundations shifting, the very trees that held them aloft growing weary of their burden.

“The Guardians...” Emily exhaled, gripping the railing of the wooden pathway beneath her. “This is what happens without them?”

Elarion stepped forward, his gaze heavy with understanding. “And this is only the beginning.”

The assembled crowd stood frozen, their faces filled with something deeper than fear, hopelessness.

Oakspire, the eternal sanctuary of nature’s balance, was unraveling before their very eyes.

And she had no idea how to stop it