Chapter 95 The Only Light in the World
An elf, guided by a goddess, journeyed to the castle to deliver an ancient book of the Elyrions.
The cold mountain wind stirred her silvery hair like strands of moonlight, while her steps remained firm on the uneven stone path. The journey had lasted days—perhaps weeks—but time seemed distorted since the divine voice had begun whispering in her mind. It was no ordinary voice. It did not come from outside. It was as if destiny itself had learned to speak.
"Continue," murmured the presence, gentle and relentless at the same time. "You are close."
The elf pressed the book against her chest. The object was heavier than it seemed, not because of the ancient leather covering the cover, nor the thick pages marked with golden symbols, but because of the energy that pulsed within it. Each time her fingers touched the embossed runes, a wave of heat coursed through her arms, as if the book recognized its bearer... or tested her.
The Eleyrions were a forgotten lineage. Ancient even to the elves. Guardians of knowledge that should never have been lost. Or perhaps should never have existed.
Ahead, through the mists that snaked across the slopes, the castle finally appeared.
Black towers rose against the cloudy sky like spears pointed at the gods. There were no flags waving, no signs of life on the walls. Yet, the elf felt the weight of countless invisible gazes upon her, as if the castle itself were aware of her arrival.
Her heart raced.
"Is this it?" she wondered to herself.
The answer came as a feeling, not words. A warmth in the center of her chest. An absolute certainty.
Yes.
She continued walking.
Each step brought her closer not only to her destination, but also to the doubts she had tried to ignore since the beginning of the mission. Why her? There were more powerful priestesses, more skilled warriors, wiser scholars. Yet, the goddess had chosen her—a simple guardian of the northern forests.
Or perhaps it wasn't so simple.
The main gate was ajar, creaking slowly in the wind. No guards. No reception. Only silence.
Too much silence.
The elf paused for a moment before crossing. Her instincts screamed danger. The kind of warning that didn't come from reason, but from the soul. She closed her eyes, gathering courage.
"Trust," whispered the divine presence again.
Taking a deep breath, she entered.
The inner courtyard was empty, covered in dry leaves swirling in small eddies. Ancient statues, corroded by time, watched the path to the castle's main entrance. Some had broken faces. Others were completely headless.
An omen.
When she reached the large wooden doors, she noticed something strange: recent marks on the floor. Deep scratches, as if something heavy had been dragged inside.
Or out.
Her stomach clenched.
Still, she pushed the door.
It opened with unexpected ease.
The interior was bathed in twilight, illuminated only by slivers of light filtering through broken stained glass. The air smelled of dust... and iron.
Blood.
The elf froze.
Then she heard.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Dragging.
Coming from the darkness of the corridor ahead.
Instinctively, she gripped the book tighter, while the goddess's voice—for the first time—remained silent.
Then our eyes met. Her natural-looking robes and striking golden eyes looked at me in astonishment.
The elf kept her eyes fixed on me for a few seconds that seemed too long for simple silence.
There was something in that look—not judgment, not fear—but recognition.
As if she already knew who I was even before crossing the castle gates.
"How did you get here?" Conrad asked, already positioning himself protectively in front of me.
"A goddess guided me to the only light that exists in this world," the elf explained, looking at me with a certain reverence.
Conrad approached discreetly, his presence warm and firm beside me.
"You said you were guided by a goddess," he said, his voice calm but full of authority. "Which one?"
The elf hesitated.
Not out of doubt.
Out of reverence.
"The one who walks between light and emptiness," she replied softly. "The one who observes when no other deity dares to look."
A shiver ran down my spine.
I didn't need her to say the name.
Deep down, I already knew.
The same presence I had felt in the forest.
The same force that surged when the magic escaped my control.
The same energy that, somehow impossible... was connected to my son.
My arms tightened around the baby almost instinctively.
He stirred, making a small sound, as if reacting to the energy in the air.
The elf noticed.
Her eyes gleamed.
"He senses it," she murmured.
Conrad frowned. "Senses what?"
"A calling."
The hall fell into absolute silence.
My heart began to beat faster.
"Explain," I said.
She stepped forward, slowly opening the book she carried. The pages were thick, ancient, covered in symbols that seemed to move when the light touched them.
Eleyrion runes.
Primordial magic.
"This book was sealed centuries ago," she explained. "It only awakens when the child of convergence is born."
My stomach clenched.
Child... of convergence.
"You're saying that..." I began, but my voice faltered.
She nodded.
"Shadows and pure magic have never coexisted in balance in a single being. Whenever they tried, the result was destruction." Her eyes landed on the baby. "Until now."
The air around us seemed to grow heavier.
Conrad placed his hand on my back, firm, protective.
"And why bring this to us?" he asked.
The elf took a deep breath.
"Because the book is not just knowledge."
She turned the page.
The symbols began to glow.
Literally.
A golden light emerged from the runes, mingled with threads of shadow that moved like living smoke.
My baby whimpered—not in pain.
In response.
As if something inside him recognized it.
"The book is a key," she continued. "And also a warning."
My heart raced.
"A warning of what?"
Her eyes met mine.
"That his birth awakened forces that had been dormant for millennia."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Then the baby opened its eyes.
And, for a brief second...
Its pupils shone gold and black at the same time.
The elf whispered, almost breathless:
"Time has begun."