The crowd had scattered.
Soldiers backed away.
Even Mathen, face pale with awe and terror, could only stare from afar.
Gavurn took a single step back, clutching his bleeding shoulder, eyes fixed on the widening rift.
Then—
The skies broke.
All across Donesria, the heavens convulsed.
Clouds coiled like dragons, warping into spirals of violet and silver. The calm sky fractured into a swirling vortex of cosmic fury. Lightning—not white, but purple—ripped across the firmament in jagged rivers of celestial light.
BOOM.
Thunder followed—not a roll, not a clap, but the steady pounding of war drums.
Deep. Primordial.
It rattled windows, toppled stones, and drove men to their knees.
No rain fell.
Only stardust.
Tiny glowing flakes drifted from above—burning faintly, vanishing before they touched the ground.
And from the breach in reality, something watched.
The rift could expand no further—too narrow, too fragile to bear the full weight of what lingered beyond. But through it, part of a face emerged.
A single eye. Half a brow. The curve of a cheek.
Even that was enough to shake the heavens.
His skin was not flesh, but a tapestry of stars in motion—galaxies spiraling slowly across his visage, constellations shifting like thoughts behind an eternal gaze. His eye glowed violet, vast and unblinking, carrying the weight of ages. His hair, barely visible through the veil of torn space, shimmered like a living nebula—flowing smoke and starlight entwined.
He did not speak.
He only watched.
And still, the world bent to his presence.
The wind screamed.
The thunder cracked like prophecy.
Even unseen, even unrevealed, the being's gaze pierced Yilheim.
Something ancient had taken interest.
Something divine... and patient.
---
In Zitry, Ziraiah looked skyward, wide-eyed.
She whispered, "What the hell...?"
Eryndor stood from his chair, a book slipping from his hand. He walked to the window and stared, transfixed.
Across Donesria, everything paused.
Farmers. Merchants. Nobles. Children.
They all looked up.
---
In another dimension—
The shadowed figure watching through Valerius's eyes dropped his spectral popcorn.
"What the…" he muttered.
He toppled over his chair, scrambling upright.
He stared at the rift now visible through Valerius's vision.
"Who is that?"
---
Valerius sat on the ground, bloodied, breathless.
He looked up, eyes wide with awe and confusion.
Then the being spoke.
"I couldn't, the last time…"
His voice echoed in strange harmony, layered and resonant, like a chorus speaking as one.
"But this… this I had to see for myself."
Valerius blinked, stunned. He tried to speak, but his mouth felt frozen.
The being tilted his head ever so slightly.
"Do you not understand me? I believe I am speaking your language."
Valerius's heart thudded.
Synelee?.
He's speaking Synelee?…
The ancient tongue of a long-lost race.
The being's visible eye watched him with interest.
"Your kind vanished long ago. Extinct. And yet… here you are."
He paused. "How old are you?"
Valerius, trembling, whispered, "F-Fifteen."
A beat of silence.
"Fifteen…? Then you were born only fifteen years ago."
He stroked his chin, the stars along his face shifting like mirrored constellations.
"That is... simply not possible."
He looked off, murmuring to himself, "This is truly odd."
A voice cut through the moment.
"WHO ARE YOU?!" Gavurn shouted, sword raised.
The eye turned. The cosmos shimmered.
"I'M SPEAKING."
Gavurn vanished.
No warning. No strike.
Just light.
Gone.
Valerius gasped.
The man he had fought with all his might—erased in a breath.
Then, again, the eye turned back to him.
"Listen carefully," the being said. "You must learn of who you are. What you are. And your history. Learn to use your new found ability. Master it. Gain the approval all the spirits. This... is the assignment I leave with you."
He began to recede into the stars behind the veil.
"Once you've done that... I will return. But let me warn you. If you die without accomplishing my assignment... your soul will not know piece"
He paused.
A single glimmer in the dark became a grin.
"As a parting gift," he said softly, "I will eliminate your enemies."
And then—
Mathen.
Aerion.
Every Grekon soldier. Every noble. Every torturer and guard.
Gone. Vanished to dust.
No flame. No blood. No scream.
Just—
Stardust, drifting on air.
The light of the rift faded.
The eye closed.
And the breach in space sealed behind him.
---
In the Temporal Plane…
The card that bore the name Solomon began to fade.
Its golden glow dulled.
And then—
black.
It turned over, its surface once again dark and unreadable, as though it had never awakened.
Valerius floated alone in the darkness.
Until—
A voice chirped behind him. "Hi."
Valerius flinched and spun around.
There, squatting beside him like a curious child meeting a new friend, was… a spirit.
The being grinned wide, his voice fast and bright like bells tumbling downhill.
"Wow, you must be really confused, huh? Don't worry, I'm here now! We're gonna be pals."
He beamed, teeth glowing faintly. His body was made of shimmering gold, semi-transparent like a ghost bathed in sunlight. Golden irises shimmered within white corneas. His face was distinct—youthful, full of life. Two eyes, two arms, one nose, a proper mop of short golden hair, and a grin too big for someone from a different plane of existence.
He looked about Valerius's age—if Valerius were fourteen feet tall.
The spirit tapped Valerius gently on the forehead.
"Come on, up you go!"
Valerius staggered, holding his bleeding chest, his breath ragged.
The spirit stood to his full, towering height and looked around as if sightseeing for the first time."Hmmm, the mortal plane is so... different."
Then he noticed Gavurn's sword lying nearby.
"Ooooh," he said, picking it up and spinning it effortlessly. "Nice sword. Definitely not standard issue."
Valerius narrowed his eyes, still catching his breath.
"Who… are you?"
The spirit's grin returned instantly.
"Did you already forget what happened to the last guy who asked that?"
He made a dramatic cutting gesture across his neck and tried (and failed) not to laugh. "Too soon?"
Valerius didn't answer.
The spirit scratched the back of his head. "Anyway… we go by a lot of names, honestly. But most people around here just call us Spirits. Simple, right?"
Valerius squinted. "What do you want with me?"
The spirit cocked his head and grinned. "You assimilated the Kingdom Seed, didn't you?"
Valerius stiffened.
The spirit flopped to the ground and spun Gavurn's sword on the tip of one finger, casually.
"See, that seed? It's like a front-door key to our world. Open that lock, and—boom—we see you. Not all of us, though. I mean, I wouldn't normally get off my butt to help some random mortal kid, but…"
He pointed skyward. "The top-top guys? They noticed you. They're all about earning respect and honour all sorts of useless shit. But me, I don't really care about all that."
He stood up suddenly and gave Valerius a pat on the shoulder.
"So! I'm your... starter spirit. Welcome to your cosmic tutorial."
He offered the sword hilt-first to Valerius, holding it by the gleaming edge with two fingers.
"Think of me as your... slightly sarcastic spirit sponsor."
Valerius stared, lips parted, not even sure if he was awake.
The spirit's eyes wandered to the gaping wound across Valerius's chest.
He winced comically.
"Yeeeesh. That's gonna leave a mark. You really oughta have that treated."
Then he paused. "Oh wait, your people heal fast."
Valerius frowned. "You know my people?"
The spirit brightened instantly.
"Of course! You're Elvhein! Not the knockoff kind, either—purebloods. You're basically legends."
He waved a hand dismissively. "Not like those modern half-chopped hybrids wandering around. Contaminated. Impure. Elvhein-ish." He made a face like he'd smelled spoiled milk.
Valerius suddenly gasped. "Grace!"
He turned and bolted from the spirit's side.
The spirit blinked. "Wait—where're you going?!"
Valerius didn't answer. He vanished into the distance, running with a limp, desperate.
The spirit sighed, watching him go.
He muttered to himself. "I could be home right now, eating cloudberries and playing spectral racing games, but noooooo. Go help the fresh-blooded Elvhein boy, they said. It'll be a great learning experience."
He took a long, slow breath… and smiled.
"Oh well."
He zipped after Valerius in a streak of gold.
"Name's Lorde, by the way!" he called out mid-flight. "Don't forget it! I'm your best friend now!"
---
Valerius landed beside Grace and her mother, his boots crunching against broken stone. The air was tense—silent, save for the whispers of a terrified crowd.
Panic rippled through the square.
"The guards… they just vanished—"
"Where did they go?"
"Did you see that light? What was that thing?"
Civilians stumbled over debris, shielding children, clutching loved ones.
Valerius ignored the chaos. He turned to Grace, kneeling slightly.
"Are you okay?" he asked, voice low but urgent.
Grace nodded, still wide-eyed. "I'm fine…"
He turned to Anna, breathing heavier now. "What about you?"
"I'm… I'm fine," she managed.
Valerius exhaled, a quiet relief. "Thank God."
Then—
BOOM.
A blast of force hit the ground beside them. A crater of dust, and standing tall within it—Lorde.
The golden spirit, radiant and towering at fourteen feet, stood with a grin on his face and his hands on his hips like he'd just stuck a superhero landing.
Grace and Anna screamed and stumbled back, shielding each other as they stared up at the glowing being.
Lorde blinked, then raised both hands in mock surrender.
"Re-laaax," he said with a sheepish smile. "I'm not gonna hurt you. Honest."
He turned his head to Valerius, hand still raised. "So, uh, who are they Valerius?"
Valerius narrowed his eyes. "How do you know my name?"
Lorde grinned even wider. "Everyone knows your name, man."
He straightened his back and mimicked Valerius's voice mockingly:
> "You haven't earned the right to know."
Then laughed to himself. "That was so cool. You said that to the Vanery, dude. You stood up to him. No one does that."
Valerius's brow furrowed. A flicker of memory returned.
That vast hall.
The glowing floor beneath his feet. The pillars of light. The eyes of thousands of spirits watching in silence.
The music—drums, trumpets, a hymn without words.
And high above them all, a veiled figure seated in light, still and waiting.
They had gathered for him.
And he still didn't know why.
He stared at Lorde. He's one of them…
Lorde caught the look and shrugged casually.
"Hey, look—we're not your enemies. If we were, well… you'd be a puff of glitter floating in the air like the rest of those guys."
Valerius said nothing.
In his mind, Yelleen's voice whispered sharply.
"That's a spirit. And an intelligent one at that. Valerius, be careful. Spirits are powerful creatures—not the whispery little ones that enchant forests. The intelligent ones… they're dangerous. Only high-level summoners can bind one. And even that's rare. For one to willingly appear?"
She paused.
"The last one, the being that cut through space… The world itself reacted to him. He wasn't just a spirit—he was something more. If this one's connected, tread carefully."
Valerius stood, holding his bleeding chest. Grace looked up at him in concern.
"Your chest—it's still bleeding."
"I'll heal," he said quickly. "Let's get out of here."
He motioned for them to follow. Grace and Anna hesitated, glancing nervously back at Lorde.
The spirit smiled and trailed after them.
Valerius turned slightly. "Why are you following us?"
Lorde shrugged with a grin, spinning Gavurn's sword idly in one hand.
"I told you. You and I? We're gonna be pals from now on."
Grace whispered to Valerius, "What is that thing?"
He answered without looking back. "A spirit."
She frowned. "Why is it following us?"
Valerius replied simply, "I don't know."
---
Valerius stopped in his tracks. His gaze lowered.
"Grace…" he said quietly. "I'm sorry. About your father. About everything I put you through."
Grace turned to him, eyes soft with sorrow. "It's not your fault, Lerius."
Valerius's voice trembled. "It is. If it weren't for me, your village would still stand. Your father would still be alive."
He lowered his head and began to bow.
Then—
WHAM.
A golden fist struck him square in the side, and Valerius shot through the air like a missile, crashing into a stall piled high with fruit and grain. He tumbled to the ground, buried under apples and broken crates.
Grace and Anna gasped.
Lorde landed beside the wreckage, dusting off his knuckles. "Oh relax," he said casually. "He's fine. Just stopped him from doing something unforgivably stupid."
Valerius lay flat on his back in a heap of crushed bread and cabbages, eyes wide with shock.
Lorde leaned over him, upside-down, grinning. "We. Do. Not. Bow. To others. Ever. Especially not to ask forgiveness for surviving. You almost threw your life away."
Grace and Anna rushed over. Grace knelt beside him. "Are you okay?"
Valerius sat up slowly, rubbing his ribs. "I'm… fine."
Anna crouched beside him and embraced him. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, his head barely reaching her hip.
"Don't blame yourself, Lerius," she whispered. "You risked your life to save us. We're alive because of you. For that, we'll be forever grateful."
He closed his eyes.
And for a moment, that was enough.
They walked on together, the three of them—wounded, weary, but alive.
And behind them, Lorde followed, whistling.
---
The days that followed the fall of Weston's capital were a blur of smoke, fear, and uncertainty. With the royal family dead and the nobility erased, the city teetered on the edge of collapse. Looters crept through broken halls. Soldiers threw down their weapons and vanished into the countryside. Families gathered what little they had and fled.
Valerius, Grace, and Anna found temporary shelter in the remains of an old chapel—its stained glass cracked, but still catching the light.
Word soon spread: the outer villages had begun organising wagons to retrieve survivors and return home. A village neighbouring Kintol, like many places, had sent men and carts to retrieve Kintol's captured residents.
On the morning of the third day, a group from Nazol, Kintol's neighbouring village arrived. There were only five of them—farmers and villagers, armed with spears and tired determination. One of them was the cousin of Anna. When he saw Grace and Anna alive, he wept.
"We thought… we thought all of you were gone," he said.
Anna touched his arm. "Thanks to Valerius… we're not."
He nodded toward a cart half-filled with food and blankets. "We're heading back. It'll take several days on foot, but we'll move quick. You can come with us."
Grace looked to Valerius, uncertain.
---
That evening, they stood together at the edge of the ruined square. The sun was rising behind them, golden light spreading across the rubble like a soft benediction.
The wagon creaked behind them, ready.
Grace turned to Valerius. "You're… coming with us, right?"
Valerius said nothing at first.
He looked beyond the crumbling towers. Beyond the broken walls. Toward the distant hills where the road vanished.
Then he spoke.
"I can't."
Grace's voice trembled. "Why?"
He met her gaze. "I have to find my family. And there's something else… something happening to me. I have to understand what it means."
Grace stepped forward. "You're leaving us?"
"I have to," he said. "There are too many questions. Too many things I don't understand. The spirits… the kingdom seed… who I am. I need answers."
Anna placed a hand on his shoulder. "We understand, Lerius. Truly. But you don't have to walk alone."
Right on cue, Lorde strolled in from the side, munching on a stolen fruit.
"He's not," Lorde said. "He's got me."
Valerius sighed. "Not helping."
Grace folded her arms. "You're really going with him?"
Lorde grinned. "Someone's gotta keep him from getting himself killed. Or bowing again."
He flicked Valerius's head.
Grace giggled through her tears. "How long have you two known each other?"
Valerius shrugged. "We just met."
Anna extended her arms, and they all drew close—Grace, Valerius, and Anna—into a quiet, lingering embrace. For a moment, the ruins, the pain, the weight of the past all faded in the stillness of that shared warmth.
Anna's voice was tender. "We'll miss you, Lerius."
Valerius held the moment for a beat longer, then gently stepped back. His eyes lingered on Grace, then shifted to Anna.
"Take care of your mother," he said softly. "Stay safe."
He turned, but then paused—half-smiling, a flicker of light in his eyes.
"And if you ever look up… and see a sky filled with stars moving in strange ways—"
He glanced back over his shoulder.
"—that's probably me."
grace smiled."Stop joking around."
Anna embraced him again, warm and full of gratitude. "Thank you, Lerius. You are a blessing to us."
Grace tried to hold back tears. "Promise you'll come back?"
Valerius nodded. "I will. When I know who I am."
Lorde raised a finger. "And hopefully by then, he'll be a real man."
Valerius turned. The wind caught the edge of his coat.
"Time to go."
He didn't wave.
But he didn't need to.
He walked forward—toward the unknown.
---
To Be Continued...