Echoes of the Lost Elf-Chapter 26 - 25 : The ones who lurks in the Shadows

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.

They wasted no time. Each of them stepped forward, summoning the full extent of their power. Runes flared to life, layers upon layers of magical inscriptions weaving together to form an impenetrable seal. Spirit sigils, arcane barriers, divine bindings—all cast in unison, forming a lattice of protection that shimmered like a celestial constellation.

Baldric's golem magic infused the foundation, strengthening the very ground beneath the Core. Seraphine called upon her spirits, their ethereal forms merging with the seal, weaving an additional layer of divine protection. Regis chanted an incantation in the ancient vampire tongue, his magic lacing the air with a crimson hue, reinforcing the defensive spells. Valak, wielding his holy energy, engraved radiant inscriptions that burned with celestial fire, ensuring that even the Void's corruption would not seep through.

Aldren stepped forward last, placing his hand upon the Core's resting place. Though he lacked magic, his aura surged, melding with the others' efforts, reinforcing the seal with raw, unwavering will.

As the final layer of the spell was set, the room pulsed with an immense force before falling silent.

It was done.

The Void Monarch's Core was sealed.

The group took a step back, their breaths heavy, sweat lining their brows from the sheer magnitude of magic they had just expended. For a long moment, no one spoke, only staring at the now-imprisoned Core.

Aldren exhaled, running a hand through his hair.

"It'll be safe here."

The others didn't question him. Not yet.

Then Valak spoke up, "Alright, spill it, and don't leave a single detail behind."

Historias' POV

Night had fallen over Aedis, casting long shadows through the quiet corridors of the academy. Despite the stillness, Historias found himself unable to sleep. The events of the day—the broken seal, the missing fragment of the Void Monarch's Core—rested heavily on his mind. It had been centuries since he last felt such unease, and no matter how much he willed himself to ignore it, the sensation refused to fade.

With a quiet sigh, he rose from his bed, slipping into a loose training robe before making his way to the academy's training grounds. It had been a long time since he last swung his sword in solitude—perhaps this would clear his mind.

The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and fresh grass. As he stepped onto the empty training grounds, he unsheathed his blade, letting the cool metal glint under the moonlight. Taking a steady breath, he moved.

His form was precise, each stroke flowing seamlessly into the next. A blade dance, refined by millennia of mastery. The rhythmic sound of his blade slicing through the air filled the training grounds as he fell into a trance-like state, each movement executed with effortless grace.

He lost track of time.

So immersed was he in his practice that he failed to notice another presence nearby—until a voice called out.

"Historias?"

Adriana's POV

Adriana was returning from the library, her arms wrapped around a thick tome as she walked through the moonlit academy grounds. She had stayed later than usual, unable to sleep, the weight of recent events keeping her mind restless. As she passed by the training grounds, she heard it—the distinct, rhythmic sound of a blade cutting through the air.

Curious, she stopped at the entrance and peered inside.

There, bathed in silver moonlight, was Historias. His movements were fluid, and precise—each strike imbued with an elegance that only came from centuries of practice. There was a quiet intensity to his expression, something distant and unreadable in his gaze.

She had seen him wield magic before, but this was different. This was not the work of a scholar or an aristocrat—this was the discipline of a warrior who had stood on countless battlefields.

For a moment, she hesitated, unwilling to interrupt. But then, driven by something she couldn't quite name, she called out.

"Historias?"

.......

The moment the voice called his name, his body reacted before his mind could catch up. His fingers instinctively released the hilt, and in a blur of motion, his sword cut through the air like a silver streak.

A sharp thunk echoed through the training ground as the blade embedded itself into the pillar just behind the figure.

A beat of silence followed.

Then, his eyes registered the person standing before him—Adriana.

Her striking blue eyes were wide, her body frozen in place. Strands of her deep blue hair fluttered slightly from the force of the wind the blade had created as it passed by.

Historias exhaled slowly, his sharp gaze softening as he lowered his stance.

"...You shouldn't sneak up on people like that," he said, his voice as calm as if he hadn't just nearly impaled her.

Adriana blinked, inhaled deeply, and finally let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Then, her stunned expression twisted into a glare.

"I called your name," she shot back. "It's not my fault you reacted like a cornered beast."

Historias tilted his head slightly, considering her words. Then, with an amused chuckle, he walked over to retrieve his sword.

As he grasped the hilt, he glanced at her over his shoulder. "A cornered beast? You wound me, Princess."

Adriana crossed her arms, still visibly annoyed. "You almost wounded me."

"If I intended to harm you, Adriana, you would not be standing there to scold me."

His words were spoken so casually, so matter-of-factly, that she had no immediate retort. Instead, she just narrowed her eyes at him.

Historias pulled the sword free from the pillar with a smooth motion, inspecting the edge before sheathing it at his waist.

He turned to face her fully, the moonlight casting sharp shadows across his refined features. "What are you doing here this late?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

Historias merely raised a brow, waiting.

Adriana sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I was coming back from the library. I couldn't sleep."

Historias hummed in understanding. "And so you wandered into the training ground."

"I heard someone here," she corrected. "And, well, I got curious." Her gaze flickered to the worn ground beneath them, marked with countless precise strikes from his sword. "I didn't expect to see you here, though. You never train with a blade in class."

Historias glanced down at his own handiwork, then back at her, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. "Some habits are difficult to break."

Adriana's irritation slowly faded as she studied him more closely. His usual composed demeanor was still there, but now that she was paying attention, there was something else—something heavier.

She hesitated, then asked, "You couldn't sleep either?"

A pause.

Then, with the faintest of smiles, Historias responded, "Something like that."

For a moment, the silence between them was almost comfortable.

Then Adriana huffed. "Next time, try not to throw a sword at me."

Historias chuckled, turning toward the sky. "No promises."

......

Deep Within the Shadows

The candlelight flickered, barely holding against the oppressive darkness that clung to the chamber like a living presence. The air was heavy, thick with the scent of burning wax, damp stone, and something far fouler—the lingering trace of void corruption.

A long, worn wooden table stood at the center of the room, covered with maps, bloodstained notes, and a rough sketch of Nazara Forest. Black veins pulsed faintly along the edges of the parchment, an eerie sign of the void magic imbued within it. At its head, a cloaked figure extended a clawed finger, tracing a line across the map before stopping at a marked location deep within the forest.

"This will be the perfect place to strike," the figure murmured, their voice carrying an unnatural resonance, as if something else spoke with them. "The examinees will be scattered, and their instructors will be bound by their rules not to interfere unless the situation becomes dire."

To their right, a man clad in shadowed armor scoffed, his fingers tightening around the hilt of a jagged, void-imbued blade. "And what of their talents? Some of them will be formidable. The princess—Adriana von Atheria—is trained in both magic and swordplay."

"She is a mere child," the cloaked figure replied dismissively. "Her royal blood means nothing in the face of the void's embrace. She is our priority target—killing her will shatter the Atherious Empire's stability, forcing them into political disarray."

Another figure, seated in the far corner, spoke with a voice that slithered like a whisper through the room. "And what of the boy... Historias Vaelcrest?"

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The first figure hesitated for only a fraction of a second before replying. "He is an anomaly." Their voice lowered. "Aldren's involvement alone makes him dangerous. If he is related to the legendary hero... he must not leave the forest alive."

A woman with piercing crimson eyes, void energy curling around her fingertips, smirked, lazily spinning a dagger between her fingers. "So we kill them both and make it look like an accident?"

"No." The leader's voice was absolute. "We make an example of them."

A silence thick with malice settled over the room before the leader continued.

"The beasts within Nazara Forest are dangerous enough on their own, but with a little... persuasion, we can corrupt them further. When the moment is right, we strike amidst the chaos. We will cut off their escape routes. Overwhelm them."

A wicked grin spread across the armored man's face. "And when their broken bodies are found, the academy will be forced to take responsibility."

The leader's fingers curled over the parchment, the black veins on the map pulsating like a heartbeat. "Make the preparations. When the exam begins... we will turn the forest into their graveyard."

The candle flickered once more—then, as if consumed by the very darkness around them, it was snuffed out.