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Chapter 81 - Chapter Seventy Three: The Passing of Selindra

Chapter Seventy Three: The Passing of Selindra

The storm of mana still lingered in the air, trembling faintly in the branches and curling across the stones like smoke, when Selindra staggered.

The elder elf's staff clattered against the rock, her thin body folding in on itself. Lyria and Druaka rushed forward, but Kael was already moving, shadows pulling him to her side. He caught her just before she fell fully to the ground, her breath shallow, her ancient skin drained of all remaining color.

"Selindra!" Kael's voice cracked, rough with the rawness of his ritual wounds.

Her eyes—clouded with age but still glimmering with elven silver—fixed on him. A faint smile touched her lips. "No… do not weep, dragon's son. My work… is finished."

He shook his head, clutching her frail hand. "No, you can't—after all this, after what you gave me, you can't leave me now. Please."

Her fingers, cold and bony, curled weakly against his. "Kael… your mother… she was my dearest friend. She feared nothing—except leaving you alone. But I see her fire in you. And more. She would be proud. So proud."

Tears stung his eyes as her voice faltered, her chest rising and falling shallowly. "Selindra…"

She smiled one last time, faint and warm. "Walk your path. Chaos or flame… it matters not. Only that you walk it… as her son."

Her hand went limp. Her body sagged against his arm, the last breath leaving her lips like a sigh carried on winter air.

Silence hung heavy. Even the forest seemed to bow in mourning.

Kael pressed his forehead to hers, eyes squeezed shut. "Thank you… Selindra."

They buried her the next day beneath the roots of a great oak, as was the custom of her people. The hollow in the trunk was carved with elven runes that glowed faintly, promising her spirit would be carried into the great flow of mana. Kael himself lowered her body into the earth, shadows gentle as hands of silk, and spoke the last rites she had taught him in hushed words during their journey.

Lyria and Druaka stood close by, silent but solemn. The wind whispered through the branches like a song.

When the earth was closed and the final rune lit, Kael rose slowly, the grief in his chest tempered by something steadier: resolve.

By the time they returned to the Hollow, word of their return spread like fire. The council gathered quickly, tension etched in every face as Kael stepped into the great hall. He told them everything. The ritual. Selindra's passing. The truth of his bloodline.

And the power.

He stood before them, his shadows coiling unnaturally, his fire sparking and warping as though eager to shift into something new.

"I don't… fully understand it yet," Kael admitted, his voice low, heavy. "But I know what I can do. This power—it bends to will. I can shape creatures from the raw stuff of chaos itself. Beasts of smoke and bone, bound to my command. I can craft spells—spells that have never existed—fusing fire, shadow, and chaos into something else entirely."

His hand lifted, and the air warped above his palm. A tiny shape flickered into existence—a serpent made of shifting light and dark, its body unraveling and reforming endlessly. It hissed once, then dissolved into sparks.

The council members stared, some in awe, others in open fear.

Kael's tone hardened, a weight behind each word. "I can create… or destroy. I can build wonders, or summon ruin. I can tear apart the very laws of magic. That's what chaos is—potential. Endless, terrible potential."

Fenrik's voice cut through the silence, low and wary. "And can you control it?"

Kael hesitated. His shadows twisted tighter around him before he forced them still. "I don't know. Not yet."

The hall fell into hushed murmurs. Some looked ready to speak against him, others too frightened to try.

Kael raised a hand, silencing them. His voice carried the weight of his oath. "But I swear this—chaos will not consume me. I will master it. For this Hollow. For our people. For the future we're building. I'll wield it not as a tyrant, but as a shield. A weapon only if forced."

The words hung in the air, heavy, dangerous, and undeniable.

That night, when the council dispersed and the Hollow grew quiet, Kael stood on the wall again, overlooking the forest. The stars stretched endless above, cold and sharp. His hand flexed at his side, shadows flickering with strange new sparks of color—flashes of crimson, white, and even gold.

Lyria joined him first, then Druaka, both silent at his side. He didn't need to look at them to feel their presence.

"I don't know what I've become," Kael murmured. "But I know one thing—this power will change everything. For better… or worse."

Neither woman spoke. Instead, they each placed a hand on his arm, grounding him, as the wind carried away the last lingering echo of Selindra's words.

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