Chapter Thirty-Three:

"The Weight of Expectation"

The night in Oakspire pulsed with the remnants of celebration, laughter still echoing through the towering trees, traces of magic weaving through the branches. But for Emily, it was a night of uneasy contemplation, a moment of solitude weighed down by expectation and uncertainty.

She stood on the balcony of her lavish suite, a structure so grand it rivaled any luxury she had ever imagined. The elegance of elven craftsmanship was evident in every detail.

Intricate carvings of golden ivy adorned the archways, and beneath her bare feet, polished stone radiated with the warmth of an enchantment.

The city stretched beyond, its towering trees supporting grand structures, woven bridges glowing faintly in the night, their bioluminescent veins pulsating with life.

She ran a hand through her newly red cascading hair, feeling the unfamiliar weight of it as it spilled over her shoulders. Her fingers brushed the delicate points of her elongated ears, new, strange, yet already a part of her.

The cool air of the night whispered against the fabric of her gown, a garment of elven make, conservative yet undeniably regal.

The last remnants of the sky’s grand display shimmered above, bursts of colored lights scattering between the branches. She couldn’t see the moons, their light swallowed by the dense canopy, but the glow of magic painted the heavens in its own brilliance.

And then, the finale took shape.

Two figures, sculpted in brilliant light.

One, a swordsman draped in a long coat, a blade strapped across his back.

The other, an Elven Archer, poised yet reaching. Across a vast distance, they stretched toward each other, fingertips nearly touching, before the images exploded in a cascade of fire and brilliance, the grand finale of the celebration at it's peak.

Emily exhaled, a knot tightening in her stomach.

They must be mistaken.

The people of Oakspire, they thought she was meant for this. That she and Rendall would lead Players and Eldorians alike, against The Dark One, the force that had haunted the Realm for centuries.

A war that had been fought and lost over and over again.

And now, they believed she was the answer.

Her father. Where was he in all of this? Did he even make it into the game? The question gnawed at her, lingering since the moment she realized what The Dive truly was. A whole universe filled with digital sentient life in desperate need of help, and yet not a single trace of him. No sign, no whisper of his presence, as if he wasn't a part of this world at all.

She pressed her palms against the balcony railing. The warm light of Oakspire’s streets glowed beneath her, laughter and distant music rising through the branches. A world teetering on the edge of war, yet still clinging to celebration.

Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Why are you doing this?”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Silence.

Emily swallowed. “You expect me to lead these people? To fight for a world I don’t even understand?”

Nothing.

A chill ran down her spine. Gameweaver was silent. She had always been there, whispering, taunting, playing with their fates like an amused deity.

But not now.

Now, there was only the rustling of leaves, the distant revelry, and the weight of expectation pressing against her.

And then.

A knock at the door.

Emily straightened, tension gripping her chest. The celebration had ended. And now, something, or someone, had come for her.

Emily hesitated only for a moment before stepping forward and opening the door.

There stood Rendall. No sword, but the long coat remained, draped over his shoulders like a second skin. He leaned against the frame, his usual easy confidence still present, though there was something softer in his expression now.

“Couldn't sleep with all that celebrating going on,” he said casually.

Emily studied him, still guarded, still unsure. She had been marked as something more than she ever wanted to be, and now here he was, the supposed other half of that legend. Was this the man she was meant to reach for? To lead beside? Was she meant to... love him?

She pushed the thought away. Too much. Too soon. Instead, she offered the only honest reply she could. “I know the feeling.”

Rendall smirked, glancing past her toward the open balcony. “Not every day you find yourself in a magical tree city. Care to look around?”

Emily exhaled slowly, the weight of the night still pressing on her, but something in her knew she couldn’t just stay locked away.

“Yeah,” she said, the word reluctant but real. “Alright.”

With a small nod, Rendall stepped aside, waiting for her to join him.

The city was quieter now, the celebration winding down. What remained were dimly lit lanterns, scattered conversations in hushed tones, and the warm glow of enchantments embedded in the great woven bridges above.

Emily walked beside Rendall through Oakspire’s winding streets, her gaze drifting toward the towering Grand Oak, its massive trunk seeming to stretch endlessly into the sky.

“Hard to believe this was what was waiting for us inside The Dive, huh?” Rendall said, hands tucked into the pockets of his long coat.

Emily exhaled, still absorbing it all. “Yeah, it is.”

A part of her still couldn’t believe this was real. That she looked like this now, that her name was whispered among strangers who expected her to be something great.

Something legendary.

Rendall gave her a sideways glance. “What do you think of it all?”

She hesitated. “It’s… overwhelming.”

He hummed, nodding. “To say the least.”

Emily studied him for a moment. "You scared?”

A wry smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “More than you know.”

They passed beneath an archway formed by intertwining branches, their bark smooth and timeworn. Wisteria flowers cascaded down in violet drapes, their delicate petals stirring in the soft night breeze.

The city’s beauty was undeniable, but it felt distant, like she was moving through a dream someone else had built for her.

Rendall seemed to read her thoughts. “I grew up in London,” he said suddenly. “Not exactly a magical wonderland, but a place with its own kind of chaos.”

Emily glanced at him, curiosity slipping past her reservations. “London?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Overpopulation was a nightmare there. Endless crowds, noise, people you don’t look in the eye. You learn how to keep moving, how to take care of yourself. And sometimes… how to take care of others, too.” His voice was even, matter-of-fact. “You see a lot of people who can’t fight for themselves. I tried to help where I could.”

Emily was quiet for a moment. The way he spoke, the way he carried himself, it was hard not to believe him. He sounded like someone who had fought, who had survived, who had seen too much but still tried to do the right thing.

She hesitated, then spoke before she could talk herself out of it. “And now you’re here. Supposedly destined to lead a war against something none of us even understand.”

Rendall let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah. Hell of a mindfuck, isn’t it?”

That made her smile despite herself. “That’s one way to put it.”

They stopped at the edge of a raised terrace, overlooking the city below. The last remnants of the magical display still glowed in the air, sparks of light slowly fading into the night.

The weight of what they had learned today pressed against her, the prophecy, the war, the expectations of a world that wasn’t even supposed to be real.

And yet, here she was, feeling more alive than she ever had before.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Emily admitted quietly. “They think I’m someone I’m not.”

Rendall didn’t respond right away. When he did, his voice was softer. “You don’t have to be who they expect you to be.”

She turned to him. “Then who do I be?”

His gaze held hers, steady. “Yourself.”

For the first time that night, something in her chest loosened, just a little.