Kapitel 18: Prisma Stone Trial

The cell door's heavy slam signaled the entry of the Sable Serpent guards. Elrik and Lyria, though outmatched, were resolute in their determination to delay the guards, buying Vael precious time.

"Move out of the way," one of the guards commanded, his voice laced with impatience. But Elrik and Lyria stood firm, unyielding.

The guard's eyes gleamed with murderous intent as he advanced. Elrik, acting on instinct, launched a sweeping kick at the guard's leg. The impact reverberated through his foot, yet the guard remained unfazed, his posture unshaken. In a swift motion, the guard grabbed Elrik by the throat and hurled him against the wall with terrifying force.

Lyria, her stance unwavering, felt a tremor of fear snake through her legs. But her resolve didn't falter; she knew she had to stall for Vael. The second guard began conjuring an acid orb in his hand, the corrosive energy crackling and hissing.

Just as the guard was about to unleash the deadly orb at Lyria, Elrik, with a burst of adrenaline-fueled strength, lunged at him. The tackle sent the guard stumbling, the orb slipping from his grasp to sizzle violently against the cell floor, eating through it like acid through paper.

"You stupid Elysian! How dare you touch me!" the guard roared, turning his wrathful gaze back to Elrik. He began to gather another orb, this one larger, more lethal.

But before he could release it, Lord Zephyrian's commanding voice echoed through the cell. "What are you doing? I ordered you to bring the kids outside!"

The guards hesitated, their murderous intent momentarily disrupted by their leader's presence. Lord Zephyrian stood at the cell entrance, his expression a mix of irritation and curiosity, surveying the scene before him.

The guards immediately bowed their heads in submission, their bodies tensing as they knelt on one knee. "My lord, we apologize," they stammered. "The other Elysian boy escaped through that hole in the wall."

At those words, the atmosphere in the cell shifted palpably. The air turned icy, a frosty chill permeating the space, making it difficult for everyone to breathe. Lord Zephyrian's presence alone exuded a suffocating pressure, his killing intent palpable, almost physical in its intensity.

Lyria, overwhelmed by the oppressive aura, found her legs buckling beneath her. She collapsed to the floor just as Lord Zephyrian loomed over her, his voice menacing as he demanded, "Where's the boy?"

The pressure was so immense that Lyria found herself unable to speak, her body frozen in fear. "Useless," Zephyrian spat out with disdain, before delivering a brutal kick that sent Lyria skidding across the cell to crash against the wall beside Elrik.

Lord Zephyrian then turned his attention to the small door in the wall. It was clear that his larger frame could not pass through it. He contemplated the situation for a moment before issuing a command to his guards. "Bring me Tiny."

In the solemn stillness of the first king's tomb, Vael wrestled with his decision. The allure of the Prism Stone, with its promise of immense power, was undeniable. Yet, the dire warning of King Aizen echoed in his mind — failure would mean an eternal imprisonment within the stone. The thought of abandoning Lyria and Elrik, leaving them to an unknown fate, weighed heavily on him.

"No, I can't afford to think like that," Vael murmured to himself, steeling his resolve. "I have to succeed."

With determination firming his steps, he approached the casket where Luminara and King Aizen conversed in hushed tones. The remains of the king lay there, ancient and brittle, but it was the soft glow emanating from the chest area that captured Vael's attention.

Taking a deep breath, he reached out, his hand tentatively passing through the flesh as if it were mere mist. To his astonishment, there was no resistance — his hand moved effortlessly towards the luminous stone nestled within the king's remains.

The moment Vael's fingers brushed against the smooth, spherical stone, a surge of energy coursed through him. His vision blurred, the tomb around him fading away, and he felt his consciousness being pulled from his body, catapulted into an entirely different realm.

As Vael's surroundings began to materialize, he found himself surrounded by large trees, creating the illusion of a dense forest. The silence was profound; not a single sign of life stirred in the underbrush.

Glancing around, Vael noticed what appeared to be an entrance to a pathway, framed by towering trees that stood like silent sentinels. Compelled by curiosity, he decided to venture down the path. Inside, the route diverged in various directions, resembling a labyrinth of sorts.

"Do I need to complete this maze to return to my body?" he wondered silently, feeling a mix of apprehension and intrigue.

Faced with a choice between going left or right, Vael hesitated. Without any clear indication, how could he possibly know the correct path? Suddenly, his attention was drawn to a peculiar symbol on one of the trees. Initially, it was indecipherable, but as he focused, the symbol slowly morphed into legible words: "Follow the elemental symbols."

Elemental symbols? Vael pondered how he could follow something he had never encountered before. Abruptly, symbols materialized on each path: one took the shape of waves, seemingly representing water, while the other bore the image of a flame, indicative of fire.

Maybe I'm overthinking this," Vael mused, considering the paths before him. He recognized that, much like the choices in life, each path might ultimately lead to the same destination, just through different journeys.

Resolved not to hesitate any longer, Vael chose the path marked by the flame symbol. It resonated with his own nature – a path of strength and resolve. He felt an affinity with the fiery emblem, as if it aligned with his inner spirit.

As soon as Vael stepped past the flame symbol, a sudden noise echoed behind him. He turned to see large trees closing together, sealing off the entrance like a natural gate. There was a finality to that sound, an unmistakable sign that retreat was not an option.

"I guess there's no going back,"

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