Download App
63.15% Talent Awakening: The Last Surviving Sorcerer. / Chapter 12: Chapter 12 Visions of Another Realm

Chapter 12: Chapter 12 Visions of Another Realm

Eryndor was 18 years. The night was quiet, but Eryndor's mind was anything but at ease. The revelations of his lineage and the atrocities committed by his ancestors weighed heavily on him. Sitting cross-legged in the dim glow of his cabin's single lantern, he stared into the flickering flame as if it held the answers to the chaos swirling in his thoughts.

Asvarion appeared silently, its radiant form bathing the room in a soft golden light. The firebird regarded him with an intense gaze, its ancient wisdom evident in the way it moved, slow and deliberate.

"You called me again," Asvarion said, its voice calm yet firm.

Eryndor nodded, his hands gripping his knees. "I need to understand more," he said. "I need to see what they saw, to know why they did what they did—and what it means for me. I don't think I can fight my sisters unless I know the full truth."

The firebird tilted its head. "Understanding comes with pain, young sorcerer," it warned. "Are you willing to endure what you will see?"

"I have to," Eryndor replied. His voice was steady, though his heart raced.

Asvarion spread its majestic wings, and the air around them began to hum with energy. The flames in the lantern flared and extinguished, plunging the room into darkness except for the light emanating from the firebird.

"Close your eyes," Asvarion instructed.

Eryndor obeyed, and the world around him shifted. He felt as though he was being pulled through an invisible vortex, his body weightless but his mind racing with anticipation. When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer in the cabin.

Eryndor stood in the middle of a grand hall, its walls adorned with intricate carvings of runes and ancient symbols. The air smelled of burning incense and something metallic. A circle of robed figures surrounded an altar at the center, their voices chanting in a guttural, otherworldly language.

"This is the past," Asvarion's voice echoed around him, though the firebird was nowhere to be seen.

The figures in the circle were his ancestors. Their faces were obscured by hoods, but Eryndor could feel their intensity. On the altar lay a swaddled infant, crying softly. His breath caught as he realized what he was witnessing.

"They sacrificed every girl born into their bloodline," Asvarion said, its voice solemn. "Every life taken to sever the connection to magic."

One of the robed figures raised a ceremonial dagger, its blade gleaming ominously in the firelight. The chanting grew louder, the energy in the room crackling with power.

Eryndor wanted to look away, but he couldn't. The dagger descended, and the infant's cries ceased. The air was filled with an unholy energy, a dark mist swirling around the altar before dissipating into nothingness.

"They believed this act would end the curse," Asvarion continued, as the vision shifted. "But in their ignorance, they fed the very forces they sought to escape."

The scene dissolved into darkness, replaced by another vision. This time, Eryndor stood in a vast, barren landscape, the ground cracked and lifeless. The sky above was a swirling vortex of black and crimson, and the air was thick with the stench of decay.

In the distance, he saw them—his sisters. They stood in a line, their forms shadowy but unmistakable. Each one radiated an aura of dark power, their eyes glowing with malevolence.

"This is the future," Asvarion said, its voice tinged with sorrow. "Your sisters have risen, their spirits corrupted by the pain and hatred of their deaths. They are no longer human—they are avatars of destruction, bound to the will of an ancient, dark force."

Eryndor watched as the sisters began to move, their steps slow but deliberate. Wherever they walked, the ground turned to ash, and the air around them seemed to ripple with raw power. Behind them, armies of monstrous creatures emerged from the shadows—twisted forms with glowing red eyes and jagged claws.

"They march to destroy the world," Asvarion said. "But their ultimate goal is you. They see you as the embodiment of the magic they were denied, the culmination of your ancestors' sins. You are their greatest enemy."

Eryndor's heart pounded as he watched the sisters' dark army spread across the desolate landscape, consuming everything in its path. Villages crumbled into dust, forests burned, and rivers ran dry.

"How can I fight this?" he whispered, his voice shaking. "I'm just one person. They're… unstoppable."

The vision shifted again, this time showing him a massive battle. He saw himself standing alone, his hands crackling with magical energy. Before him stood his sisters, their forms towering and monstrous, their power overwhelming.

"You have the potential to stop them," Asvarion said. "But only if you embrace your magic and the responsibility it brings. Your power is great, Eryndor, but it is raw and untamed. Without mastery, you will fall before them."

Eryndor watched as the battle played out. He saw himself fighting valiantly, wielding fire, water, and earth against his sisters' dark magic. But he was outnumbered and overwhelmed. The vision ended with him collapsing, his body broken, and the world consumed by darkness.

The vortex pulled him back, and Eryndor found himself in the cabin once more. He was on his knees, his breath ragged, his body trembling from what he had seen.

Asvarion stood before him, its gaze filled with compassion. "Do you understand now?" it asked.

Eryndor nodded, though tears streamed down his face. The weight of the past, the terror of the future, it was almost too much to bear.

"I didn't ask for this," he said, his voice breaking. "I didn't ask to be the one to fix their mistakes."

"No one asks for their destiny," Asvarion replied. "But it is yours, and only you can decide how to face it."

Eryndor wiped his eyes and stood, his legs shaky but his resolve hardening. "I won't let the world burn," he said. "And I won't let them win. If this is my destiny, then I'll face it head-on."

The firebird regarded him for a moment, then nodded. "Then we begin," it said.

Asvarion's wings flared, filling the room with light once more. The journey ahead would be perilous, but Eryndor knew he couldn't turn back now. The fate of the world—and his very soul—depended on what he did next.


Chapter 13: Chapter 13: Known Foes

Three days later, at noon. The sun hung high in the sky, spilling sun rays through the forest canopy. Eryndor walked silently through the dense woods, his bow in one hand and a quiver of arrows slung over his back. His sword was strapped to his side, dangling at every step he took, though he hoped he wouldn't need it. Hunting was one of the few activities that gave him peace. Out here, away from thoughts of magic, nightmares, and dark prophecies, life felt normal—almost.

The wind whispered softly as Eryndor stepped carefully over broken branches and dry leaves. Ahead, he spotted movement: a deer. Its coat shimmered in the sunlight as it grazed in a small clearing, unaware of his presence. Eryndor crouched, nocking an arrow to his bowstring. He held his breath and pulled back, steadying his aim.

"Just one clean shot," he whispered to himself.

His muscles tensed, ready to release the arrow when the ground trembled. The deer raised its head, its large eyes wide with alarm. Suddenly, the earth erupted with a sickening crack. Skeletal hands burst through the soil, clawing their way upward. The deer bolted into the woods, but Eryndor froze as he watched in horror.

One by one, the dead rose. The skeletons shook off stumps of dirt, their empty eye sockets glowing faintly with a malevolent light. Some still wore tattered remnants of ancient clothing and rusted armor, while others were little more than bones and decay. They stood tall, creaking as they moved, their jagged fingers flexing as if eager for violence.

Eryndor stumbled back, his bow lowering. This can't be happening.

The first skeleton lurched forward, its bony limbs rattling as it closed the distance between them. Eryndor's instincts kicked in. He loosed his arrow, the sharp tip striking the skull cleanly, shattering it into splinters. The creature crumpled to the ground, but before Eryndor could exhale, two more skeletons emerged to take its place.

From all around him, the ground cracked and split open. Dozens of skeletons clawed their way to the surface. Soon, there were too many to count, a horde of undead creatures, their numbers growing with each passing moment.

Eryndor's heart pounded as he backed away, his mind racing. He slung his bow across his back and drew his sword. "Come on, then!" he shouted, trying to summon some courage.

The nearest skeleton lunged at him with bared teeth, but Eryndor swung his blade, shattering its ribcage and skull in one clean motion. Another creature came at him from the side, and he sidestepped, slashing through its legs and sending it collapsing into the dirt.But for every skeleton he destroyed, more kept coming. The horde surrounded him like a tide of death, pressing closer and closer.

Sweat dripped down Eryndor's face as his arms ached from swinging his sword. He grunted as a bony fist struck him in the shoulder, sending him staggering backward. He could hear the clicking and creaking of their movements, a dreadful sound that made his skin crawl.

"This isn't normal," he panted. "What is happening?!"

Suddenly, one skeleton leapt forward, its jagged claws raking across his chest. Eryndor cried out, stumbling and falling to one knee. Blood seeped through his tunic, and his breathing grew ragged. He gripped his sword tightly, but his strength was fading.

He can't fight them all…

The horde pressed in, skeletal hands reaching for him. Panic surged through Eryndor as he felt himself drowning in their sheer numbers. The air grew heavy, the ground beneath him trembling as if mocking his defeat.

No, he thought. Not like this. I won't die here!

Summoning every ounce of willpower, Eryndor raised his free hand. He closed his eyes and focused, reaching deep into himself, into the magic he had long avoided. The familiar hum of power stirred within him, and the wind around him began to swirl violently.

"Astrum ignis, eximius furor, descendo in tenebris!" he roared.

The earth trembled, and his voice echoed like thunder. With a shout, he released the magic. Energy surged from his body, rippling outward. Rocks, twigs, and leaves shot into the air, swirling like a deadly storm of fire. A wave of force shattered the skeletons nearest to him, their bones flying apart in a cloud of dust.

But the effort cost him. Eryndor dropped to his knees, panting, his vision blurring at the edges. His magic had destroyed a third of the horde, but the remaining skeletons were undeterred. They regrouped, their glowing eyes fixed on him with renewed purpose.

Eryndor's chest heaved as he tried to stand, but his body was spent. He gritted his teeth and whispered, "Astra descendit, terra aperi,

Aerius suscipio, ignis excito.

Asvarion, draco magnus, adsum!

Per crystallum purum, te invoco.

Veni, Asvarion, et ostende potentiam tuam!"

The air grew still. A low, distant hum vibrated through the ground, and the sky darkened.

A fiery light blazed above, and suddenly, Asvarion appeared. The firebird descended from the heavens, its wings spreading wide, casting an enormous shadow over the battlefield. Its feathers crackled with flames, its talons glowing white-hot.

The skeletons froze, as if they too sensed the firebird's power.

The firebird opened its beak, and a torrent of fire erupted. The flames roared like a great storm, engulfing the skeletons in a blazing inferno. Their screeches filled the air as they burned to ash, the dark energy that had animated them disintegrating under the sheer heat of Asvarion's power.

The flames died down as quickly as they had come, leaving nothing but scorched earth and smouldering embers. The air was still again, the forest eerily quiet.

Eryndor looked up from where he knelt, his body trembling. The firebird hovered above him, its gaze sharp but reassuring.

"You called," Asvarion said.

Eryndor managed to stand, though his legs felt like lead. He stared at the charred remains of the skeletons, his voice hoarse. "What were they? Why did they come for me?"

Asvarion landed beside him, its radiant form dimming slightly. "The dead have begun to stir, summoned by forces far darker than you have yet seen. Your sisters' power grows, Eryndor, and they will send worse against you."

Eryndor swallowed hard. "I wasn't ready," he admitted. "I couldn't handle them on my own."

"That is because you have yet to embrace your full potential," Asvarion said. "Your magic is strong, but it remains untamed. You cannot keep running from it."

Eryndor glanced down at his hands, which still faintly tingled with residual energy. He remembered the sensation of releasing his magic—a power that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"How do I stop this?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You must train hard and well," Asvarion replied. "You must prepare for the battles to come. Your sisters will not stop, and neither will the dark forces they command."

Eryndor clenched his fists, determination hardening in his chest. He had spent years running from his magic, from his destiny. But he could not ignore the truth any longer.

"I'll do it," he said finally. "I'll train more with your assistance, I'll fight. Whatever it takes."

Asvarion nodded approvingly. "Good. The path ahead will be perilous, but you are not alone."

With that, the firebird spread its wings and soared into the sky, its form disappearing into the sunlight. Eryndor stood alone in the quiet clearing, the scorched earth a stark reminder of the battle he had survived.


Load failed, please RETRY

Weekly Power Status

Batch unlock chapters

Table of Contents

Display Options

Background

Font

Size

Chapter comments

Write a review Reading Status: C12
Fail to post. Please try again
  • Writing Quality
  • Stability of Updates
  • Story Development
  • Character Design
  • World Background

The total score 0.0

Review posted successfully! Read more reviews
Vote with Power Stone
Rank 200+ Power Ranking
Stone 0 Power Stone
Report inappropriate content
error Tip

Report abuse

Paragraph comments

Login

tip Paragraph comment

Paragraph comment feature is now on the Web! Move mouse over any paragraph and click the icon to add your comment.

Also, you can always turn it off/on in Settings.

GOT IT