A Visit to the N'karas

The air hung heavy with tension as the trio, accompanied by their celestial guides, ventured deeper into the heart of Lucius's past. The ethereal landscape unfolded before them, revealing the hidden layers of the N'karas tribe—a place Lucius once called home.

Lucius walked through the shadowed corridors of memory, his steps weighed down by the burden of banishment. The tribe, unaware of his lineage, met him with wary glances. His eyes, aflame with the memories of injustice, scanned the faces of those who once were his kin.

The elders, their wrinkled faces etched with ancient wisdom, eyed Lucius with a mix of caution and trepidation. Scarta, the oldest and most revered among them, sensed the tumultuous storm brewing within Lucius and tightened his grip on the ceremonial staff.

As the trio and their celestial guides observed the unfolding drama, Lucius learned of the tragic fate that had befallen his family. His eyes, once filled with anger, now mirrored the flames that consumed him from within. His kin, the very tribe that had cast him out, had become unwitting perpetrators of his family's demise.

With a roar that echoed through the spectral landscape, Lucius summoned the inferno within him, flames licking at his limbs. The elders, unaccustomed to such displays of power, stumbled backward, fear etched on their faces.

But before the fiery wrath could rain down upon the elders, Moses, with a solemn presence, stepped forward. A vision of the parting sea played out before Lucius, a reminder of his strength and the path that lay beyond vengeance. The flames flickered and waned, held in check by the guiding hand of destiny.

Yet, the impending clash was forestalled not only by Moses but also by the intercession of Archangel Michael, his wings unfurled in a gesture that demanded order. "Enough," he declared, his voice resounding with divine authority, as he stood between Lucius and the elders.

James, blind to the unfolding spectacle, felt the tumultuous emotions that surged through the air. His desire for justice, for retribution on behalf of his friend, was palpable. Unseen by him, Scarta, the eldest and strongest elder, advanced with a stealthy grace, striking James with a precision that belied his age.

The world plunged into darkness for James, his sight stolen by the very elder he sought to challenge. The pain was physical, but the anguish cut deeper, a wound that festered in the void of sight.

In a twist of fate, Michael, unsheathing his holy blade, unleashed a single, sweeping arc that cleaved through the heart of the tribe. Scarta, resilient and defiant, survived the divine onslaught, a lone figure amidst the ruins of his once-proud people.

And as the celestial entourage and the trio departed from the shattered remnants of Lucius's past, the distant laughter of the Seven Princes echoed in the ethereal winds—a portent of challenges yet to come.