Elara fainted.
No dramatic scream, no graceful fall — she just crumpled. Hit the arena floor with a thud. Her hair floated around her face, the cut on her palm still bled into the water like paint in the sea.
The whispers had stopped. But the silence they left behind was worse.
For a second, no one moved. Not even the Seer.
Then the Sealorn lit up. A blast of gold shot out, sharp and sudden. People jumped. Someone swore.
Then it cracked.
Clean split, straight through the centre.
And the light vanished.
That's when the sea lost its mind.
The floor of the arena started to rumble, enough to feel it through the spine. A whirlpool started forming in the centre — not massive yet, but unnaturally fast. Water pressure shifted like the ocean itself had just taken a deep breath.
Farther out in the city, alarms started ringing — distant, sharp, and panicked. From the outer balconies, people began swimming back or floating higher, trying to see what was happening. Some of the guards started moving toward the edge, gripping their weapons.
And Elara?
Still out-cold. Flat on the floor, blood still leaking, golden and strange, while the sea started losing control around her.
✧𓂃⋆༶⋆𓂃✧
Forest Realm — Sylvaria
Laughter echoed through the forest as a group of elven children darted between the trees, tossing flower petals at each other.
And then the ground trembled.
It was subtle at first — just a few leaves falling when no wind blew. A branch creaked. A squirrel-like creature hissed and vanished into a hollow knot in the tree.
Then the trees began to shake — all of them, across the entire grove.
The sky clouded, turning the morning glow into something eerie and dark. Thunder rumbled all across the kingdom of Sylvaria.
Mothers rushed forward, holding their children tight as the youngest ones started to cry. Wings of the fairies fluttered. People started whispering.
Something was off.
Then, the oldest tree — the one left from the Niraya era — bloomed all of a sudden which was dead along with the race.
Dozens of flowers. Golden coloured blossoms opened along its ancient bark, glowing, like they'd been waiting for something.
Gasps spread across the grove.
An older fairy — green and long wings, sharp eyes — landed next to the Queen. "This isn't natural," she said. "It didn't come from us."
The Queen didn't speak. Just watched the tree.
"We need to check the sea," the fairy added. "And the lands."
✧𓂃⋆༶⋆𓂃✧
Norvainth – Land Realm
It began in the volcanic fields outside the capital of Norvainth, the relam of humans.
Farmers were used to small flares from the heat vents — harmless bursts of fire from underground pockets. They were easy to track, usually predictable.
But this one came without warning.
A sudden roar, like a furnace had been ripped open.
Flames shot out of the largest vent — a harsh white-blue, hotter than anything the land had ever seen. The sky above it shimmered like glass under pressure.
The ground didn't crack, but the heat... it shifted. Animals ran. Metal tools burned to the touch. A nearby cart went up in smoke in seconds.
A child screamed, pointing at glowing cracks snaking across the stone — like fire veins waking up.
Back in the city, blacksmiths dropped their hammers as the flames in their forges started flaring — then suddenly died, completely. Not even embers had remained.
In the central pyre temple, priests gathered around a torch that had burned for generations. It flickered and then extinguished.
The flames inside the Great Temple didn't dance — they froze.
And then, without warning, they burst upward — roaring like they were starving for something no one could name. Every torch, brazier, and sacred flame twisted into a blinding column. Even the molten veins that ran under the floors were red-hot, lighting up the carvings on the stone walls.
Panic rippled through the temple. A few fire-bringers tried to calm the flames, using their relics to suppress the surge — but nothing worked.
From the altar, the High Fire-keeper stared at the central flame. A crack had formed on its base — something that hadn't happened in centuries.
One of the guards stepped back. "What does this mean?"
The Fire-keeper didn't answer at first. He just looked toward the distant sky dome overhead, smoke swirling into its glass.
"…It started in the sea," he said finally. "And now it's spreading."
✧𓂃⋆༶⋆𓂃✧
High above the realms, far beyond the sea or sky, the divine court stood untouched — a kingdom forged from worship.
The walls shimmered with solid gold, veins of sapphire running through their structure like sacred rivers. Pillars rose high above the clouds, etched with glowing prayers from thousands of years ago — each still alive.
At the centre sat a throne — massive, entirely gold, its armrests encrusted with gems that glowed with unnatural light. Blue crystals. Sapphire. Azure steel. Lapiz-infused relics from the creation of the sea.
On that throne sat Delkaris — the god known to mortals as the Tidefather.
Delkaris — God of the Sea, Divine Sovereign of the Heavens, and one of the Throne-Bound Gods.
His form was flawless.
Long black hair framed a face too perfect to be mortal — handsome, carved like stone, with eyes the color of the deepest ocean trench. A gold halo hovered above his head, spinning gently, etched with forgotten sigils. His build was broad, powerful, arms resting casually against the gilded throne as if all creation bowed at his leisure.
In his left hand, he held a relic — a vision orb laced with divine essence.
He watched.
The Sea. The girl. The relic. The crack. The wave.
Then he chuckled.
"So… the High God did send her to the other world after all. The lost child. The one we all thought dead."
He rose slowly, the divine aura around him crackling like restrained thunder.
"How touching."
He paced down a step, fingers brushing the side of the relic.
"That mortal shell she wears? It won't protect her."
His smirk deepened.
"She'll be my stepping stone. To the highest throne."
"I'll drain every last drop of that divine spark until there's nothing left but a hollow shell — and I will rise. to be the new High God"
He turned toward the far edge of the hall — his eyes glinting.
A cruel grin tugged at his lips. "Poor Amarisila… still watching from your seal, aren't you?"
"You can't even lift a finger from where you're locked away."
He laughed — sharper this time, echoing off the golden pillars.
"All your hopes… will belong to me."
Then he stopped, all trace of amusement vanishing.
He raised one hand.
"Vaerin."
The word dropped like an order, not a call.
Down in the sea, near the platform, the same guardian from the trial lifted his head. The one who hadn't said a word the whole time. The one standing near the Arc Seer like a statue. Now, he moved.
He heard it inside his head.
"Bring me the heart of the Niraya."
No confusion. No delay. He knew exactly who.
"Alive. Until I say otherwise."
A pause. Then:
"If she runs…"
"If the Sea Goddess stirs…"
"Stop them both."
No answer came. None was needed.
And up in the heavens, Delkaris leaned back and gave a laugh.
"Let's see how long she lasts."
✧𓂃⋆༶⋆𓂃✧✧𓂃⋆༶⋆𓂃✧✧𓂃⋆༶⋆𓂃✧