Chapter 71: The Return Of The Lost

Third Person's POV

Selene's grip tightened around the two ancient books as she stepped through the ruined archway of their temporary stronghold.

The weight of history, of forgotten truths and buried prophecies, sat heavy on her mind.

Queen Lysara's sacrifice, Queen Selara's madness—it was too much to process at once. But there was no time to dwell. As she approached the outer gates, the distant sound of voices pulled her back to the present.

A commotion. Not of battle, nor of monsters, but of people.

She emerged beyond the threshold, where a group had gathered at the edge of their defenses. Strangers—men and women dressed in tattered garments, their faces lined with exhaustion, their eyes filled with wary hope.

Some carried what little they had—bundles of cloth, rusted weapons, relics of a life long lost. Others stood with nothing but the weight of survival upon their shoulders.

Khael was already there, his small frame tense, flames flickering at his fingertips. Axel stood beside him, sword at the ready, his silver hair catching the dim light. Tyra and the others had formed a protective line, their weapons poised, watching.

Selene inhaled slowly. Survivors.

She stepped forward, raising a hand. "Who are you?" she called out, her voice firm yet measured.

A man, older, his face marked with the scars of past battles, took a hesitant step forward.

"We come from the outskirts," he said, voice rough.

"We thought—we thought the kingdom was lost forever. But the land—it has changed. The sky is clearer, the air—" He hesitated, glancing at those behind him.

"We felt it. The world shifted. And so we came."

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the group. Some nodded, others clutched their companions tightly, as if afraid this was all a dream that would vanish should they let go.

Selene's gaze sharpened.

This was no ordinary gathering of refugees. These people had lived in the broken remnants of Eldoria, lingering in the shadows of its ruins, surviving in the hollows where nothing should have endured.

And now, after so long, they had found their way back.

But she could take no chances.

She exchanged a glance with Axel. He gave a subtle nod, already understanding her unspoken thought.

They had encountered illusions before—mimics that wore the faces of the lost, phantoms that whispered promises of hope only to lead the unwary into the abyss.

Selene raised her hand, the faint glow of magic tracing her fingertips. "Step forward, one at a time," she commanded.

"I need to be sure."

The group hesitated. A woman, holding the hand of a young child, stepped forth first. She swallowed hard but did not resist. Selene extended her magic outward, letting it wash over them, searching for the telltale wrongness of deception.

Nothing.

Real.

One by one, she examined them. And one by one, she found truth. No illusions, no mimics. Only survivors—frightened, weary, but real.

She exhaled.

Then, she nodded. "You are safe here."

The words barely left her lips before the tension in the air broke. A sob of relief, a whispered prayer of thanks. Some collapsed to their knees, others clutched each other as if grounding themselves in reality.

Hope flickered in their eyes, fragile yet unyielding.

Axel lowered his sword, Khael's flames dimmed, and Tyra stepped forward, her usual sternness giving way to something softer.

Selene turned back to the gathered survivors.

"Come," she said, her voice steady. "Let me welcome you home."

Selene watched as the last of the newcomers stepped through the gates, their weary faces illuminated by the glow of the nearby torches.

The air was thick with unspoken emotions—relief, disbelief, fear of hoping too soon. She understood that feeling all too well.

The remnants of Eldoria's forgotten people had returned home, yet the kingdom was not as they remembered it. The land had begun to heal, but scars of war and ruin still marred its bones.

Stone towers lay crumbled, streets overgrown with the wild reclamation of nature. It would take time to rebuild, time to become whole again.

She turned to Axel, who was already directing their people to assist the survivors. His expression was unreadable, though she caught the subtle tension in his shoulders. He knew, just as she did, that this was only the beginning.

Restoring a kingdom was not as simple as welcoming back its lost children.

Khael, ever watchful, hovered near the edges of the crowd, his sharp eyes darting from face to face. Selene could feel the flicker of fire magic still lingering at his fingertips—a silent caution.

Tyra, less reserved, approached one of the newly arrived women and clasped her shoulder in a firm grip, as if anchoring her to the present.

"You've made it this far," Tyra said, her voice gruff but not unkind.

"That means you're strong enough to see what comes next."

Selene stepped forward, letting her gaze sweep over the gathered survivors. She could feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on her, the silent question in their eyes

What now?

She had no grand speech prepared, no rehearsed words to ease their fears. But she had truth.

"Eldoria still stands," she said, voice steady.

"It is not what it once was, and it may never be the same again. But we are here. And as long as we are here, we will not let it fall."

Silence stretched between them, thick with meaning. Then, a murmur rose among the crowd—soft at first, then stronger. A ripple of hope, of determination.

Selene let out a quiet breath. They would have to take this one step at a time. For now, the lost had found their way home. And that was enough to begin again.

----

The morning light stretched over the remnants of their temporary stronghold, casting long shadows as Selene stepped outside.

The air was crisp, carrying with it the hushed murmurs of the newly arrived survivors. Even after a night of rest, their exhaustion remained evident, but so too did something else—determination.

Selene walked through the gathering, nodding at those she passed. Among them were men and women who had once been more than just survivors.

She saw the disciplined stance of former knights, their eyes sharp even without their once-polished armor.

There were scholars, their hands still stained with ink from books they had protected despite the chaos.

Healers busied themselves tending to wounds, their quiet murmurs of comfort weaving through the morning air.

Farmers inspected what little land they had, already discussing the possibilities of planting anew.

And then there were the children, peering around with wide eyes, some clinging to their parents, others daring to play in the open for the first time in years.

Khael was sitting by a firepit, listening intently to an old man who spoke of a hidden village deep within the mountains.

"We weren't the only ones," the man said, voice hoarse but steady.

"There are others. Pockets of our people, scattered, waiting. Some have forgotten the name Eldoria, but they are ours nonetheless."

Selene crouched beside them. "You're certain?"

"As certain as one can be in these times," the old man said.

"But they won't come easily. Fear has kept them hidden for so long. Many believe the outside world is still lost."

She exhaled, glancing at Axel, who had been listening in silence. He met her gaze and nodded. They needed to find these people. Every lost Eldorian deserved a chance to return.

But not all were as willing to follow.

Near the remnants of the central hall, a group of well-dressed individuals had gathered.

Their clothes, though worn, bore the unmistakable signs of nobility—fine embroidery, insignias of long-forgotten houses.

Selene approached as one man, tall and broad-shouldered, stepped forward.

"I am Lord Valentine of House Morvain," he declared, his voice carrying authority.

"Once, my family advised the rulers of Eldoria. We were its spine. And now, as Eldoria rises again, we will take our place in its leadership."

Murmurs rose from those around them.

Some of the common folk exchanged uneasy glances, while others regarded the nobles with a mixture of awe and resentment.

The tension in the air was palpable as the sun climbed higher, casting golden light over the assembled survivors. At the center of it all stood Lord Valentine, his expression etched with barely concealed arrogance, his posture straight and unwavering as though the world still revolved around noble houses and their decrees.

"I see no reason to pretend," Valentine began, his voice rich with self-importance, drawing the attention of all present.

"Eldoria, as it once was, stood upon order. A hierarchy. And those who bore the weight of its wisdom—my house, the great houses—were its guiding hand. This kingdom needs leadership, and that leadership should come from those who understand governance, not… the misguided whims of warriors and exiles." His gaze flicked toward Selene with a smirk that made Khael's hands twitch with embers.

Selene regarded him coolly, arms crossed.

"And who do you believe should lead, Lord Valentine? Yourself?"

"Not myself alone," he answered smoothly.

"But those who are fit to do so. I do not question your ability to fight, warrior—" he said the word with deliberate condescension

"—but battle and governance are not the same. Experience, strategy, diplomacy—these are what will restore Eldoria. And I do not believe you possess them."

Murmurs rippled through the gathered survivors, some nodding, others frowning.

The former knights shifted uncomfortably, while the common folk whispered among themselves.

Valentine was playing a dangerous game, and Selene knew that a reckless answer could sow division before they had even begun rebuilding.

Axel spoke then, his voice cold and measured. "And yet, here you stand, no kingdom to your name, no seat of power, no great estate. All you have are remnants of a past that failed. Why should we entrust you, or any noble, to lead when it was under that very system that Eldoria fell?"

Valentine's jaw tightened, but he forced a smile. "You misunderstand, Sir Axel. I do not seek to restore the past, only to ensure our future is not led by emotion and blind idealism. Order must be maintained, and chaos must be kept at bay. A kingdom needs rulers, not—" He cast a glance at the gathered survivors, at the farmers, healers, and wandering scholars.

"—not a rabble with no sense of governance."

Tyra scoffed loudly, arms crossed. "You mean not a rabble you can control."

Gasps rippled through the crowd, but Selene held up a hand, silencing them. She stepped forward, her voice steady but firm.

"You are correct about one thing, Lord Valentine—experience matters. And I will not deny that I have much to learn. But let me make one thing clear, Eldoria will not be ruled by those who cling to the past out of fear. It will not be built upon arrogance and the entitlement of those who once held power. If you wish to be part of its restoration, then earn your place through action, not demands."

Valentine's smirk wavered, but he quickly composed himself, giving her a slow nod.

"Then prove yourself, warrior. Let us see if you are truly fit to lead, or if you are merely playing at leadership."

Selene did not flinch. She met his gaze head-on, her voice calm, unwavering. "Then watch closely, Lord Valentine. Because Eldoria will rise—not under the weight of old titles, but under the strength of its people."

Silence stretched between them.

Then the crowd stirred, uncertain but not as divided as before. Some still doubted, but others saw something else—resolve. Selene turned to them, addressing the entire gathering.

"Eldoria will be rebuilt by those who stand together, not those who seek to divide it. If you wish for a future worth fighting for, then step forward, not for me, but for the home we will reclaim."

One by one, people murmured in agreement. Knights straightened, farmers nodded, scholars exchanged glances and stepped forward.

Valentine may have sown doubt, but Selene had planted something far stronger.

Hope.

The silence stretched as Valentine's smirk began to wane, his confidence shaken by Selene's unwavering presence. He had expected hesitation, uncertainty—perhaps even division among the survivors.

Yet, instead of questioning her, the people turned toward each other, exchanging glances filled with something he had not anticipated.

Conviction.

One of the former knights, a grizzled veteran with a scar running down his cheek, stepped forward.

"The nobles sat in their halls while we bled on the battlefield. We fought and died for a kingdom that crumbled beneath their arrogance." He turned to Selene and knelt on one knee.

"My sword is yours, Commander. Lead us, and we will follow."

Another voice rose from the crowd. A young woman, a healer who had spent countless nights tending to the wounded, lifted her chin.

"You speak of governance, Lord Valentine, but where were you when we starved? When we suffered? We followed the nobility before, and it led us to ruin. We will not make that mistake again."

One by one, the people stepped forward—knights, farmers, scholars, artisans—all standing in unity beside Selene. Some raised their fists, others bowed their heads, but all made their choice clear.

Valentine's expression hardened, his jaw clenched as he took an uneasy step back. His allies, the few nobles who had remained by his side, shifted uncomfortably. The power he thought he wielded was slipping through his fingers like sand.

"You would choose an untested warrior over those born to rule?" Valentine hissed, desperation creeping into his voice.

"You would cast aside centuries of order and structure?"

A laugh broke the tension—sharp and mocking. Tyra smirked, arms still crossed.

"Centuries of order? You mean centuries of greed and neglect. We don't need rulers who see us as pawns. We need leaders who will fight alongside us."

Axel stepped forward, his blue eyes cold as ice. "You speak of strength, Lord Valentine, yet here you stand, abandoned by the very people you sought to command. Strength isn't measured by titles or bloodlines. It's measured by the trust of those who follow you."

The final blow came when Khael, who had been silent until now, took a slow step toward Valentine , his young face shadowed by the flickering embers dancing around his fingers.

His voice was quiet, but it carried weight. "You call us a rabble. But this 'rabble' is the future of Eldoria. And you? You're nothing but a remnant of its failure."

Valentine's face turned red with humiliation. He had no allies left, no army to command, no voice that held sway.

The realization dawned on him, bitter and undeniable. With a sharp turn, he spun on his heel, his cloak billowing behind him as he stalked away.

His nobles scrambled to follow, their heads lowered in shame.

As they disappeared beyond the crowd, a resounding cheer erupted, voices united in defiance, in hope, in the promise of a new beginning. Selene stood amidst them, no longer just a warrior, but the leader they had chosen.

Eldoria had made its choice. And it was not with the past—it was with the future.

To be continued.