Chapter 70: The Veil Shatters

Third Person's POV

Selene shut the ancient tome, her fingers lingering on its worn cover. The weight of history pressed heavily upon her chest.

Each ruler's fate had been steeped in sacrifice, and now, she was left to wonder—was her destiny already written, just like theirs?

She exhaled slowly, glancing at the dimly flickering candles. Time had slipped away while she pored over the records.

Axel and the others were likely wondering where she had gone. With a quiet resolve, she tucked the tome under her arm, deciding to take it with her.

There was still more to uncover, but for now, she needed to return.

As she turned to leave, a faint shimmer caught her eye. A grand mural, half-hidden by the towering bookshelves, stretched across the far wall. It was old—older than the library itself.

The edges were cracked with age, yet the painted figures remained vivid, untouched by time.

Drawn by an inexplicable force, Selene stepped closer. Her breath caught in her throat.

The mural depicted a battlefield beneath a fractured sky, where stars bled silver light onto a drowning world.

Towering waves swallowed half-sunken cities, and jagged shadows clawed at the heavens, as if the very fabric of reality had begun to unravel.

At the center of the chaos stood a lone figure.

A woman, dressed in flowing white and gold, her posture regal yet burdened.

Long, midnight-black hair cascaded down her back in soft waves, swaying as if caught in an unseen wind. Her face, however, remained obscured by a sheer veil, thin as mist, hiding her features from view.

In her right hand, she held the Heart of Eldoria, but its glow was fading—its once-brilliant radiance flickering like a dying ember.

In her left, she gripped a sword wreathed in ethereal fire, its light casting shadows that danced across the mural like restless spirits.

And at her feet lay two fallen figures.

One cloaked in shimmering light. The other swallowed by darkness.

The artist had painted them with deliberate vagueness—their forms detailed, yet their faces hidden in shadow. It was impossible to tell who they were, impossible to tell whether they had been slain or simply lost to fate's cruel design.

But one thing was clear.

She had been forced to choose.

Selene's breath hitched as a whisper echoed through her mind, soft as a sigh yet heavy with meaning.

"One must fall… for the world to rise."

Her fingers trembled as they hovered just above the painting's surface, the air tingling with a strange warmth. For a fleeting moment, the world around her seemed to flicker—as if reality itself had wavered beneath an unseen force.

Then it was gone.

Selene took a step back, her heart pounding. The library remained silent, undisturbed, yet the weight of the vision pressed against her like unseen chains.

She turned toward the tall windows, gazing out at the city below. In the very heart of the kingdom, where the ancient sanctum stood, the Heart of Eldoria pulsed faintly—unseen to most, yet its presence called to her.

An impossible choice awaited her.

Selene turned away from the mural, her thoughts tangled in the weight of what she had seen.

The library felt colder now, its silence heavier. As she stepped toward the exit, a sudden shift in the air made her pause. It was faint—an almost imperceptible ripple, as if something ancient had stirred from slumber.

A gust of wind rushed through the chamber, snuffing out the flickering candlelight. The darkness closed in for a breathless moment before a dim glow ignited at the far end of the room. Selene's pulse quickened as she turned toward it.

From the shadows, a figure emerged.

It was tall, draped in the remnants of ancient armor. Silver and blue once gleamed from the pauldrons, but time had worn them down to dull steel.

A tattered cloak trailed behind, its edges frayed and whispering against the stone floor. Though its face remained obscured beneath a deep hood, its eyes—piercing and luminescent—locked onto Selene with a force that rooted her in place.

"Who dares disturb these halls?" The voice was deep, resonant, carrying the weight of centuries. It was not a question. It was a demand.

Selene swallowed, standing her ground. "I seek the truth."

The guardian tilted its head slightly, as if measuring her worth in that single instant. The air around them thickened with unseen energy, pressing against her skin like the weight of an unseen force.

"Truth." The word was spoken as if it were a fragile thing.

"Truth is a blade with two edges. One will cut away your ignorance. The other will carve into you a price you may not be willing to pay."

Selene's hands curled into fists. "I don't care about the price."

A silence stretched between them before the guardian took a slow step forward.

"Then tell me," it murmured, voice softer now but no less heavy, "what will you surrender to uphold your destiny?"

She hesitated. The whisper from the mural still echoed in her mind One must fall… for the world to rise.

"I don't know yet," she admitted, her voice quieter now, yet firm.

The guardian remained motionless, but something in its posture shifted—approval, or perhaps sorrow. "Then your trial has only begun."

A gust of unseen wind swept through the chamber. The guardian turned, its cloak billowing as it gestured toward a forgotten alcove, hidden behind towering shelves.

The dust lay thick there, undisturbed by time, yet the air around it pulsed with something unseen.

On one of the worn shelves, a single book shimmered faintly beneath the dust.

"Take it," the guardian commanded. "Within these pages lies the testament of one who bore the burden before you. She, too, once carried the Heart."

Selene hesitated before stepping forward, her breath shallow. The book, bound in deep crimson leather, seemed to hum beneath her fingers.

The moment she touched it, a jolt of warmth surged through her veins, a heartbeat that did not belong to her echoing through her skin.

The pages of the ancient book felt worn beneath Selene's fingertips, the scent of aged parchment rising as she turned the first delicate sheet.

The ink, though faded, remained legible, carrying with it a history long buried in the depths of Eldoria's past.

To the one who follows…

The words pulled at something deep within her. A whisper of memory, a call from across time. She took a steadying breath and continued reading.

The Lightbearer

There was once a queen whose light shone so brightly that even the stars seemed to bow in reverence.

She was Lysara the Radiant, the Lightbearer of Eldoria, the queen who brought an age of peace and prosperity never seen before nor since.

They called her the Voice of the Heavens, the one whose very presence dispelled the shadows.

But as all light casts a shadow, so too did her reign bear the weight of darkness.

Born into a world fractured by war, Lysara had been the unexpected beacon that mended a kingdom on the verge of ruin.

Her rule began not with conquest but with wisdom. She was not a warrior queen, nor did she wield her power with steel and blood.

Instead, she governed with understanding, seeking balance where others sought dominance. It was said that her words alone could turn the tides of war, that her gaze could calm the wrath of the heavens.

But it was her magic that set her apart. Unlike the rulers before her, who wielded fire, earth, or storms, Lysara carried the gift of pure light. It flowed through her veins, untouched by mortal corruption.

The old texts speak of celestial beings who blessed her as a child, whispering their power into her soul.

Her presence alone could heal the wounded, and with a mere touch, she could purge sickness from the land. Under her rule, Eldoria flourished.

Yet for all the light she bore, Lysara was not spared from the cruel hand of fate.

There is an old legend, one spoken in hushed voices by those who still remember the truth.

They say that those chosen by the heavens are never meant to live long in the mortal world.

That their brilliance burns too brightly, and in the end, the fire always consumes them.

Lysara knew this. She had seen the visions in the sacred waters of the Heart of Eldoria. She had foreseen the shadow that would one day fall upon her.

But she never turned away. She embraced her fate, knowing that the burden of a ruler was to stand firm, even when the heavens themselves called her home.

The last days of her reign remain shrouded in mystery. The records tell of a growing darkness, a force unseen that slithered beneath the surface of her kingdom.

There were whispers of something unnatural lurking in the temple of the Heart, a presence even Lysara could not dispel.

The priests spoke of omens—blackened stars, weeping statues, the cold breath of something ancient stirring in the wind.

Then, one fateful night, Queen Lysara entered the temple alone.

It was a night unlike any other. The sky, once adorned with the soft glow of celestial light, darkened as an unnatural silence fell over Eldoria.

The people of the city sensed it, an unease settling over them like a heavy shroud.

In the depths of the temple, where the Heart of Eldoria pulsed with an eternal glow, Lysara stood before its sacred altar.

It was there that she was found the next morning—lifeless, her body untouched by any wound, yet absent of breath. The glow of the Heart had dimmed for the first time in recorded history.

There were no signs of struggle, no indication of violence, and yet something about the scene unsettled those who discovered her.

The priests who first laid eyes upon her claimed that she bore an expression not of fear, but of understanding. As if she had met her fate willingly.

The council sought explanations, but none could be found. The scholars scoured the temple, searching for hidden truths, but the answers eluded them.

Some claimed she had been taken by the very celestial beings who once blessed her, while others whispered of a deeper secret, one that she alone had carried to her grave.

A single account remains—one buried beneath centuries of erased history.

A record written by a nameless scribe, hidden in the margins of an ancient scroll.

"She did not die. Not truly. The Heart did not claim her, nor did the heavens. She gave herself to something far older, far greater. The price of light is not death, but eternal sacrifice. And so she remains, unseen, unheard, bound to the very heart of Eldoria itself."

The words chilled Selene to her core. She read them again, her mind racing. If the account was true, then Queen Lysara was not simply lost to time—she was still here, a presence interwoven with the very land she once ruled.

And if that was true, then the truth behind her death had never been an end at all.

But she was not the only one whose fate had been swallowed by time.

Selene's breath was unsteady as she traced her fingers along the ancient text, the ink faded yet still holding its haunting truth.

Queen Lysara had not perished in the way history had claimed—her essence was bound to Eldoria itself, lingering beyond death. But if this truth had been buried for centuries, then what else had been concealed?

She turned the page, her heart pounding, and another name surfaced from the forgotten margins of history.

The Seer Of The Forgotten Oracle

A ruler whose legacy had been marked by prophecy and madness. Her name was whispered in old texts, her fate sealed in blood within the halls of Eldoria's grand library.

Yet, what had truly driven her to such an end? And why did her story emerge in the wake of Lysara's?

Selene leaned in closer as more of the scribe's words unraveled a tale long obscured.

"Three reigned after the Lightbearer, yet none carried the burden she left behind. The Stormborn ruled the seas, the Veiled Monarch ruled from the shadows, and the Crimson Blade ruled with steel and war.

But none of them heard the whispers in the wind, the echoes of the one who had sacrificed herself to something far older than the gods.

It was only when the Seer took the throne that the past refused to remain buried.

Selara, the Oracle Queen, was the first to listen."

Selene's fingers tightened around the parchment as the pieces began to fall into place. Selara had not simply been gifted with prophecy—she had seen something. Something beyond the veil of time, beyond the lies that had been woven into Eldoria's history.

A vision. A warning. A truth that had driven her to madness.

She read on.

"It began with whispers—soft at first, like a lullaby carried by the wind. Then, the visions followed. The Seer would wake in the dead of night, eyes wide, breath ragged, muttering of a queen who had never truly left. She saw golden light entwined with the very roots of the kingdom, a presence unseen yet ever watching. The court dismissed her words as the ramblings of a cursed Oracle, but she knew. The Lightbearer's sacrifice had not been death—it had been imprisonment.

And worse still, the chains that bound her had begun to wane."

Selene swallowed hard, a cold dread settling in her chest. Selara had uncovered the truth of Lysara's fate—but no one had believed her. They had called her visions madness, her warnings the delusions of a queen slipping into insanity. And yet, she had left behind one final prophecy, written in blood before her death.

A plea. A warning.

"The heart still beats. The light still lingers. And when the veil shatters, she will rise again."

Selene's hands trembled as she closed the book. The weight of history pressed down on her, an undeniable truth searing itself into her mind.

Queen Lysara had never left Eldoria.

And Queen Selara had died trying to reveal why.

To be continued.