Echoes of the Lost Elf-Chapter 25 - 24 : The lost elf

.......

Aldren's heart stopped.

The training grounds around him blurred into irrelevance. The conversations, the sparring, the clashing of blades—all of it faded beneath the weight of those words.

"...Are you certain?"

"I can feel it," Historias murmured. "Something happened to the core. Someone broke the seal."

Aldren didn't need to ask how he knew. If Historias Everglen said he could feel it, then it was the undeniable truth.

The Void Monarch's Core—the very essence of the eldritch ruler they had sealed away a thousand years ago.

Aldren's grip on the crystal tightened. His mind raced through possibilities, but he already knew there was only one course of action.

"Then we need to inform them," Historias said, voice low. "The others."

Aldren closed his eyes. He had known this day might come. They all had. But it didn't make it any easier.

"...Are you sure?" he asked quietly. "Them?"

A pause. Then, in a voice laced with certainty, Historias replied.

"Yes. It's time."

Seraphine Ashford – The Spirit Mage

In the heart of the Ashford Cathedral, where ancient spirits murmured in hushed tones, Seraphine Ashford sat beneath a stained-glass window, her fingertips grazing the pages of an old tome.

Then, she felt it. A shift. A pull. The spirits around her suddenly stilled.

Her head snapped up, golden eyes narrowing as she reached for the silver pendant hanging from her neck. The faint blue glow of her communication crystal pulsed against her skin.

She pressed a hand against it and answered. "Aldren?"

"...Its the seal."

The book slipped from her fingers, forgotten. A deep, cold dread settled in her chest. Her connection with the spirit world trembled.

"...How?" she breathed, already standing.

"We don't know yet," Aldren admitted. "But we're gathering. You know where to go."

Seraphine closed her eyes for a brief moment. The spirits whispered warnings in her ears, their voices frantic, fearful. The world was shifting once more.

"...Understood."

She reached for her staff, eyes glinting with steeled resolve.

Baldric Ironveil – The Arcane Guardian

Deep in the molten forges of Ironveil, where the heat of the earth pulsed like a beating heart, a dwarf grumbled as he wiped soot from his brow.

Baldric Ironveil had long since left the battlefield, choosing instead to fortify the world from within. He built walls, barriers, constructs—anything to keep the next calamity at bay.

And yet, despite all his preparations, the moment his rune-engraved crystal lit up, he knew. He had failed.

With a heavy sigh, he grabbed the crystal, his rough voice cutting through the connection. "Tell me you're callin' just to say hello."

Aldren didn't even hesitate. "The seal is broken."

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Baldric closed his eyes, exhaling a slow, weary breath. "...Damn it."

He turned, casting a glance at the half-finished construct beside him—a massive, rune-bound guardian that was supposed to ensure peace.

"Guess it's time to pick up the hammer again."

Regis Vald – The Healer of Shadows

In the depths of a forgotten temple, where moonlight barely kissed the marble floors, Regis Vald stood before a row of injured mortals, his hands glowing with soft healing magic.

Then, suddenly, his magic flickered.

His crimson eyes narrowed. It was subtle—an almost imperceptible disturbance. But he felt it.

And then his crystal glowed.

"...So. The past finally comes knocking," Regis mused as he answered.

"The seal," Aldren's voice came through, grim. "It's breaking."

Regis smiled wryly. "I suppose that means you need my help."

Aldren's silence was telling.

Regis chuckled, rolling his sleeves back. "Very well. Try not to get yourself killed before I arrive."

Valak Allgera – The Demon of Light

Atop a floating monastery, where the sun bathed the sky in gold, a lone figure knelt in meditation.

A demon, marked by his kind's cursed heritage, yet wrapped in the warmth of holy power.

Valak Allgera felt the disturbance before the crystal even activated.

"...So it begins again."

When he accepted the call, he needed no explanation.

"I'll be there."

.......

Aldren set the crystal down, exhaling. One by one, the heroes of the Great Void War had answered.

They were scattered across Eldara, having built their own lives in the centuries that followed.

But now, the past was calling them back.

And this time, there would be no retreat.

......

The wind howled through the towering trees of Sylvaris as five figures stood in a clearing, their faces grim and their eyes sharp with unspoken understanding. The moon cast long shadows, illuminating the ancient stones beneath their feet. Each of them had arrived as soon as they could, sensing the urgency in Aldren's summons.

Seraphine Ashford, the spirit mage, was the first to break the silence. Her gaze settled on Aldren, piercing and unwavering. "How did you know?" she asked, her voice edged with suspicion. "You're not a mage. You didn't place the seal. You couldn't have known unless—"

Aldren lifted a hand, cutting her off before she could finish the thought. His expression was unreadable, his stance rigid. "Now is not the time for this," he stated firmly. "We'll talk later."

Silence settled over the group, but the weight of her unfinished words lingered. They all knew the answer. There was only one person who could have told Aldren about the seal breaking. The same person they had not seen in a thousand years.

Before any of them could press further, Aldren cleared his throat. "Historias will not be able to show up."

That caused a reaction. Regis Vald, the vampire healer, narrowed his crimson eyes. "Not be able to? Or not willing to?" His voice was smooth but laced with quiet frustration.

Baldric Ironveil folded his arms, his gruff voice carrying over the group. "Damn elf disappears for a millennium and now he can't be bothered to show up when the Void Monarch's core is in danger?"

Valak Allgera remained silent, watching Aldren carefully. The demon, wielder of holy power, had always been observant, and he sensed that Aldren wasn't revealing everything.

Aldren sighed. "We'll talk about that later." His tone left no room for argument. "For now, we move."

He activated the portal, and in an instant, they stepped through, arriving in a darkened chamber that reeked of corruption.

Before them, pulsating with a faint, eerie glow, was the Void Monarch's Core. Its twisted, obsidian form pulsed like a beating heart, dark tendrils of energy writhing in the air. Yet something was off.

"There's no one here," Seraphine murmured, her hands tightening around her staff.

Regis walked forward, his sharp gaze analyzing the core. "Someone attempted to break the seal," he confirmed. "But they only managed to weaken it."

That was when they saw it—a small but undeniable gap in the core. A part of it was missing.

"Albeit a mere fraction, it is still missing," Baldric muttered, his voice grim. "I can sense multiple presences were here recently. They fled the moment they sensed us."

"That means they knew who we were," Valak added, his brows furrowing. "And they weren't ready for a fight."

Seraphine exhaled sharply. "Then we can assume they'll be back when they are."

Baldric stepped closer, his hands moving through the air as he traced invisible lines of magic. "We need to move the core. It's too exposed here."

Regis nodded. "Agreed. But where?"

Aldren remained silent for a moment before he finally spoke. "Not here," he said. "I might know a place."

The others turned to him, questioning glances exchanged, but Aldren's mind was elsewhere. He exhaled through his nose, knowing full well what this meant.

Historias was not going to like this.

.......

As soon as Aldren gave the coordinates, Baldric raised his hands, his aura flaring as ancient runes glowed beneath his feet. The space around them warped, folding in on itself, and in the blink of an eye, they vanished from the ruined chamber that housed the Void Monarch's Core.

When they reappeared, the first thing they noticed was the overwhelming stillness of their surroundings. The air was thick with mana, almost suffocating in its density, yet it carried an inexplicable tranquility. Towering trees, ancient and colossal, stretched toward the heavens, their silver leaves shimmering under the pale light that filtered through the thick canopy. Ethereal wisps of light danced through the air, illuminating a narrow path leading toward something hidden in the depths of the forest.

And then, they saw it.

A palace unlike any they had ever laid eyes upon.

The Everglen Palace stood in solemn majesty, an ivory-white citadel carved from stone that seemed untouched by time. Its walls were entwined with luminescent vines, their soft glow casting an otherworldly radiance upon the structure. Towering spires reached skyward, adorned with intricate elven carvings that told stories of ages long past. A grand bridge stretched over a crystalline lake, its waters so clear they reflected the night sky like a mirror. Statues of forgotten warriors lined the entrance, their solemn gazes watching over the land as eternal sentinels.

The sheer presence of the place was enough to leave even the most seasoned warriors in awe.

"Everglen..." Seraphine murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "We're in the middle of the Everglen Forest."

Regis exhaled sharply. "You brought us here, Aldren?"

"This place is beyond sacred," Valak muttered, his golden eyes narrowing. "How do you even know about it?"

Aldren didn't respond immediately, "You forget that I'm an elf Valak, and don't forget who it belonged to.". He turned toward the grand doors of the palace, placing a hand on the ancient wood. With a faint shimmer, the doors creaked open as if recognizing his presence. A pulse of magic rippled through the air, and the group exchanged glances before stepping inside.

The interior was just as breathtaking. The halls stretched endlessly, bathed in a soft silver glow emanating from floating crystals embedded in the ceiling. Intricate patterns of runes decorated the walls, shifting ever so slightly as if alive. A faint, almost imperceptible hum resonated throughout the palace, the kind only those attuned to magic could hear.

They descended deeper into the palace, moving through corridors that had long been untouched by time. With each step, the weight of history pressed down upon them, as if they were walking through the remnants of a forgotten era.

At last, they reached the bottommost chamber.

A grand, circular room, its walls lined with spell formations so ancient that even Baldric hesitated to step forward. At the center lay an altar, carved from obsidian and inlaid with veins of glowing silver. The air was thick with latent magic, and even the Core itself seemed to tremble in its presence.

"This will do," Aldren stated firmly.