CHAPTER 16 : DREAM

In the heart of a grand and majestic hall, bathed in the soft glow of flickering torches and illuminated by the shimmering light of stained glass windows, a figure appeared. Clad in armor of the deepest black, its surface marred by the scars of countless battles, the imposing presence commanded attention and reverence from all who beheld it.

As the figure strode purposefully into the hall, the air seemed to hum with anticipation, the echoes of its footsteps reverberating against the vaulted ceilings in a symphony of power and authority. The intricately carved pillars that lined the chamber seemed to bow in deference to the figure's presence, their ornate designs casting intricate patterns of shadow and light upon the polished marble floor.

With each step, the figure exuded an aura of regal majesty, its bearing proud and dignified despite the wounds that marred its once-immaculate armor. Though the weight of its burdens seemed heavy upon its shoulders, there was an undeniable strength in its stance, a resilience born of trials endured and battles won.

As the figure reached the center of the hall, it paused, casting a commanding gaze across the assembled throng. In that moment, all fell silent, their eyes fixed upon the figure with a mixture of awe and reverence, as if beholding a being of myth and legend come to life before them.

And then, with a voice that resonated with authority and power, the figure spoke, its words echoing throughout the hall like a clarion call to arms. In that moment, all knew that they stood in the presence of a true leader, a beacon of hope in a world shrouded in darkness, and they pledged their loyalty and allegiance without hesitation.

In the grand hall, three figures sit: the esteemed high priest, the holy King of the Kingdom, and the saintess, her aura unique and radiant. Each holds their own presence, a testament to their roles in the realm's hierarchy.

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The high priest's voice breaks the silence, addressing the figure clad in battle-worn armor. "So, you lost the war , ark," he states solemnly, his gaze unwavering.

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Ark nods, his voice resonating with a hint of resignation. "Yes," he admits, "everything was proceeding according to plan until an unknown interloper intervened. I was forced to employ the teleportation artifact to escape the chaos of battle."

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High priest asked " so how strong was that person"

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The figure pauses, contemplating the strength of their adversaries.

"The 6-star swordmaster posed a formidable challenge," Ark concedes, "but there was another whose presence I sensed from afar, a power surpassing even that of the knight I faced."

King asked with commanding voice " so you are saying kingdom of verdia have a person who is stronger than 6 star swordmaster,

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Ark replied , "yes your majesty"

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The highest saintess's words hung in the air, her voice carrying a sense of solemn resolve as she addressed the council. "For now, we will watch and wait," she declared, her gaze steady and unwavering. "We cannot afford to act rashly in the wake of our recent setbacks. We must bide our time, observe the unfolding events, and strike when the moment is right."

Around the table, the council members nodded in agreement, their expressions reflecting a mixture of determination and caution. Though the urge to retaliate burned fiercely within them, they understood the wisdom of the highest saintess's words. In the face of their recent defeats, patience and vigilance were their greatest allies.

As the council concluded their deliberations, they departed the chamber with a renewed sense of purpose. Though the road ahead would be fraught with uncertainty, they remained steadfast in their commitment to their cause. And as they prepared to face the challenges that lay ahead, they knew that their faith would guide them through the darkness, illuminating the path to victory.

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In Ava's room, the tranquility of the night was disrupted by the onset of a nightmare. As she slept, her mind became ensnared in a web of unsettling visions, each more chilling than the last. The room, once a sanctuary of rest, now echoed with the echoes of her distress as the nightmare unfolded in the darkness of the night.

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In her dream, Ava found herself transported back to a moment from her childhood. At the tender age of five, she pleaded with her mother, tears streaming down her face, begging her to stop. "Please, Mom, stop! Please don't hurt Tom," she cried out desperately. Tom was the name of a cat whom she had been secretly feeding, her only solace in a tumultuous household.

Her mother's gaze was cold and unyielding as she looked upon Ava. "You will take this as a lesson," her mother declared sternly, the words echoing in Ava's ears. The room, shrouded in darkness within the confines of her dream, bore witness to the turmoil of her subconscious as she grappled with the weight of childhood memories and maternal expectations.

Ava jolted awake, her heart racing, her voice trembling as she repeated, "Please, stop, Mom." Slowly, the remnants of the nightmare began to dissipate, replaced by the gentle warmth of sunlight filtering into her room. With each passing moment, the reality of the dream became apparent, and Ava's breathing steadied as she realized she had been caught in the grips of her own subconscious. The room, bathed in sunlight, offered a comforting contrast to the darkness of her dreams, providing solace in the wake of the unsettling experience.

As the sunlight illuminated her room, a maid's gentle knock disrupted the tranquility. "Lady Ava," the maid's voice called from beyond the door, "there is some important news related to the war. The Prime Minister has requested your presence." The weight of the message hung in the air, signaling the resumption of Ava's duties and the gravity of the kingdom's affairs amidst the turmoil of war.

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To be continued