Bab 4: Episode 3: The Trial of Aetheris - Part 2
As the wind picked up, swirling around them like a restless spirit, Eryndor couldn't help but glance at the darkening horizon. The storm on the distant mountains was closing in, but it was the palpable tension in the air that unsettled him. He had faced trials of his own, yes, but this... this felt different. The very air hummed with an energy he had never encountered before.
"Do you feel it?" Eryndor asked, his voice barely rising above the whispering wind.
Alira didn't need to look to know what he meant. "I do," she answered, her tone uncharacteristically serious. "The storm is a warning, not of weather, but of what's coming. Something stirs beneath the surface of Aetheris, something that none of us fully understand yet."
Her words hit Eryndor with an icy certainty. He knew, deep down, that this was no ordinary storm. It was as if the world itself was on the verge of some great upheaval, its balance trembling on the edge of disaster. For years, he had been searching for purpose, for a reason to fight. Now, it seemed, the world had found its reason for him.
"How do we stop it?" he asked, his gaze unwavering from the swirling mass of clouds that loomed over them.
Alira was silent for a moment. When she spoke again, it was with a quiet determination. "You can't stop it alone. No one can. But together... we stand a chance. We must find the others, Eryndor. The ones who are like you."
"Like me?" He frowned, confused. "I don't understand."
"There are others who have been chosen, like you, to shape the future of Aetheris. You are not the only one with a destiny to fulfill. There are fragments of a greater power scattered across the land, each one connected to a different part of the world. They need to come together before it's too late."
Eryndor absorbed her words slowly, trying to make sense of them. He had always thought that his journey was personal, that he was alone in his struggles, but Alira's words painted a different picture. He wasn't the only one chosen, and yet, he still didn't understand what he was supposed to do with this knowledge.
Alira seemed to sense his confusion. She placed a hand on his shoulder, a gesture both grounding and reassuring. "The path ahead will be difficult, but it will also reveal answers. You will understand soon enough. Just keep moving forward."
Eryndor nodded, though doubt still clung to him like a shadow. He had never been one for faith, never been the kind of person to blindly follow a cause. But Alira's presence—her calm resolve in the face of the unknown—made him wonder if there was more to this than mere chance. Perhaps he wasn't alone after all.
With a final glance at the storm, Eryndor turned away from the sanctuary and walked alongside Alira. As they moved through the plains, the first raindrops began to fall, soft at first, but steadily growing heavier. The storm was upon them now, and they could only walk into it.
Eryndor didn't know what the future held, but for the first time, he felt a glimmer of hope. He wasn't walking alone anymore. And with that thought, the weight of his doubts seemed a little easier to bear.
The storm might be powerful, but so was he. And the fragments of his destiny were waiting to be uncovered.
As the rain grew heavier, Eryndor quickened his pace, his mind racing with the weight of Alira's words. They were venturing into uncharted territory, both literally and figuratively. The path ahead was uncertain, but there was a sense of purpose now, a pull that he couldn't ignore. The fragments of destiny, as Alira had called them, were scattered across the land—each one seemingly tied to someone like him. But what did that mean for him? For them all?
Alira's steady presence beside him provided some comfort, though her silence only added to the tension. It wasn't like her to remain so quiet, and it made Eryndor wonder what she was really thinking. Was she just as uncertain as he was? Or had she already glimpsed the road ahead and knew where it would lead them?
"Alira," he called, his voice cutting through the steady rhythm of the rain. "You said there were others like me. What do you know about them? Are they all... like you?"
She stopped in her tracks, turning to face him. Her gaze, usually warm and confident, held something darker now—a shadow of doubt, perhaps, or fear. It was a fleeting look, quickly replaced with her usual calm demeanor, but it didn't go unnoticed by Eryndor.
"They are not like me," she replied, her voice distant. "They are part of something much bigger. Each one of them holds a key, and if they are brought together, the balance of Aetheris could be restored—or destroyed. The danger is real, and none of us know what will happen once we find them."
The weight of her words settled between them, and for a moment, the only sound was the rain and the wind. Eryndor could feel the magnitude of the task they had ahead of them, but he also understood one thing very clearly: there was no turning back now. Whatever this was, whatever this destiny was, it had already begun to unfold. All they could do was follow where it led.
"Where do we start?" he asked, his voice firm with resolve. "How do we find the others?"
Alira took a deep breath, her eyes scanning the horizon as if searching for some sign, some clue that would guide them. "We start in the north," she said, finally. "There is a village on the edge of the Broken Peaks. It's a place where travelers from all corners of Aetheris pass through, and I have reason to believe one of them is the key to finding the fragments. But be warned—the Broken Peaks are treacherous. Many have tried to cross them, and few have succeeded."
Eryndor nodded without hesitation. The mountains to the north were known for their unforgiving terrain and unpredictable weather, but that was nothing new to him. He had crossed dangerous lands before, and this would be no different. Or at least, that's what he tried to convince himself.
"We'll need supplies," he said. "And a plan."
Alira smiled, the familiar glint of determination returning to her eyes. "I've already thought of that. We'll stop in the next town for provisions. Then, we'll head straight for the Broken Peaks."
Eryndor didn't question her. There was something in her eyes, something that told him she knew exactly what she was doing. Perhaps she was just as uncertain as he was about the future, but she was determined to press forward. And that, more than anything, gave him the strength to do the same.
They walked in silence for a time, their steps in sync as they made their way toward the distant village. The storm raged on around them, but it no longer felt like an obstacle. It felt like a sign—a reminder that the road ahead would not be easy, but they would face it together.
The storm showed no sign of letting up as they pressed on, their bodies growing weary but their resolve unwavering. The world around them had turned into a blur of gray, the rain lashing against their faces and the wind howling in their ears. Yet, despite the harsh conditions, Eryndor found that his thoughts were clearer than ever. His mind drifted back to what Alira had said earlier—the part about fragments of destiny, keys to something greater. It felt surreal, but he could sense the truth in her words.
"Do you think they even know who they are?" Eryndor asked, his voice barely audible over the storm. "These others you mentioned—will they be ready for what's coming?"
Alira's gaze softened, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. "No one is truly ready," she said, her tone reflecting the weight of her experience. "But they must be found. We don't have a choice. The pieces are scattered, and if we don't find them first, someone else will. And that's something I can't allow."
Eryndor glanced at her, noting the intensity in her expression. There was a fire in her eyes, a sense of urgency that mirrored his own growing determination. He had always known that his path in life would be shaped by forces beyond his control, but he had never imagined that those forces would be so... personal. The fate of Aetheris now seemed to hinge on their success—on finding these fragments, on piecing together a puzzle that neither of them fully understood.
"Do you ever wonder why you were chosen for this?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady, even though he could feel the weight of the question bearing down on him.
Alira's answer came slowly, as though she were weighing the truth of it in her mind. "I don't know why, Eryndor. But I've come to believe that the path we're on has chosen us, not the other way around. The fragments are more than just objects—they are part of us. We are all connected, whether we realize it or not. And perhaps the only way to restore balance is by bringing us together."
Her words struck a chord deep within him. There was something profound about her belief in the connection between them all. It was as if their fates had been entwined long before they had ever met, and that realization made the weight of their journey feel even more immense.
The path ahead was treacherous, and the storm had made it even harder to navigate. The wind howled louder, and the rain seemed to fall in sheets, blocking their view of anything beyond a few feet. The forest had become a blur of dark shadows, the trees looming like sentinels in the distance. They had been walking for what felt like hours, their bodies exhausted but their minds sharp.
"How much further?" Eryndor asked, his voice strained.
Alira paused, peering into the distance. Her face, though damp from the rain, remained calm, her focus unwavering. "Not far now," she replied, her voice a reassuring balm against the harshness of the world around them. "We should reach the village by nightfall. It's just ahead."
Eryndor nodded, his eyes scanning the horizon, searching for any sign of the village. He had been on long journeys before, but this one felt different. There was an unspoken weight to it, a sense that their arrival in the village would be the beginning of something far greater than either of them could anticipate.
As they pushed through the dense forest, the path seemed to grow narrower, more treacherous with each step. The storm had made the terrain slick and dangerous, the ground beneath their feet soft with mud, the trees heavy with the weight of rain. But they pressed on, driven by a sense of urgency that neither of them could deny.
The village, according to Alira, was not just a place to rest—it was a key point in their journey, a place where they could find more answers. More fragments of the puzzle, she had said. Eryndor didn't understand it fully yet, but he trusted her. He had learned to trust her in the time they had spent together. She was not just a guide on this path—they were partners now, whether they liked it or not. Each one had a role to play, and neither of them could afford to falter.
"Tell me more about the fragments," Eryndor asked, breaking the silence between them as they trudged through the mud. His voice was steady, but there was a hint of curiosity in it. "What are they, really?"
Alira's gaze flickered towards him, her expression unreadable for a moment. She seemed to consider his question before answering.
"They are pieces of a much larger whole," she said slowly, her voice thoughtful. "Fragments of something ancient. And powerful. The kind of power that could change everything." She paused, as if weighing the gravity of her own words. "They've been hidden for centuries, kept away from those who would misuse them. But now they're resurfacing, and it's only a matter of time before someone finds them. If we don't act, the world we know will crumble under the weight of that power."
Eryndor absorbed her words, the weight of them pressing against his chest. He had known, deep down, that this journey would lead them to something dangerous. But hearing Alira speak of it so openly—of a world on the brink of ruin, of powers beyond their understanding—it made everything feel so much more real. And so much more terrifying.
They reached a clearing, the rain finally beginning to ease as they entered it. Before them stood the village, a small settlement nestled between the trees, its structures simple but sturdy. Smoke rose from chimneys, and the faint sound of voices reached their ears. It looked peaceful, almost serene, but Eryndor knew better than to trust appearances.
"This is it," Alira said, her voice steady. She turned to him, her eyes locking with his. "The village holds more than just shelter. It holds secrets, and it will guide us to the next step of our journey. Stay close, Eryndor. Trust no one."
Eryndor nodded, though a part of him felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He wasn't sure what Alira meant by 'secrets,' but he had learned to follow her lead. She had proven herself time and time again, and though he had no clear idea of what lay ahead, he knew that they had no choice but to continue forward. The fragments—whatever they were—were their only hope.
Together, they walked into the village, the sounds of life enveloping them, but the sense of danger still lingered in the air. Every step felt like a journey into the unknown. Every shadow seemed to hold a secret, every face a hidden motive.
And as they walked deeper into the heart of the village, Eryndor couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched.
The village was small, with only a handful of houses clustered together like an ancient, self-sustaining community. The buildings were made of stone, their surfaces worn smooth by the passage of time. Small gardens surrounded each house, filled with a mix of herbs and vegetables, and the scent of woodsmoke lingered in the air, mingling with the dampness from the earlier rain.
As they moved deeper into the settlement, the people seemed to take little notice of them at first. But Eryndor could feel their eyes on him—on both of them. He could sense the subtle shift in the atmosphere, a quiet tension that hummed beneath the surface. It wasn't the kind of attention that came from simple curiosity. No, this was something else. He had seen it before, in places where outsiders were not welcomed. But there was also something more here—something ancient, perhaps tied to the land itself.
Alira led him through the village without a word, her pace steady and confident. She had clearly been here before, and Eryndor could see that she was already familiar with the layout of the place. They passed a few weathered faces—old men sitting on porches, children playing in the mud—but no one spoke to them. It was as if the village had become accustomed to strangers passing through, yet none were ever truly welcomed.
They stopped in front of a small building at the far edge of the village. Its wooden door was closed, and its windows were dark, but there was something about it that stood out from the other structures. The air around it seemed charged, as if it were the heart of the village. Alira turned to Eryndor, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"This is where we'll find the next piece," she said quietly. Her tone had changed, becoming more serious, more guarded. "Inside, you'll find answers to questions you haven't even thought to ask yet."
Eryndor felt his pulse quicken at her words. He had no idea what to expect from this place, but the urgency in her voice left no room for hesitation. They had come too far to turn back now.
He followed her as she pushed open the door, which creaked in protest. The interior was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from a single candle on a table in the center of the room. There was an old woman sitting there, her back hunched with age, her hands working methodically as she seemed to sort through various trinkets and scrolls. The moment she heard the door open, she looked up, her sharp eyes focusing on Alira.
"You've returned," the woman said, her voice low and gravelly. "I thought it would be soon. What have you brought with you this time?"
Alira didn't speak right away. She stood still, her eyes fixed on the woman. Eryndor could sense that there was more to their relationship than what appeared on the surface—an unspoken understanding, perhaps a history that went back further than his own journey had.
"This is Eryndor," Alira said at last, her voice steady. "He's the one I've been searching for. He's the key to everything."
The old woman studied Eryndor for a moment, her gaze piercing, as if she could see straight into his soul. Then, without a word, she gestured for them to sit.
"Tell me, boy," the woman said, her voice softening slightly, "what do you know of the fragments?"
The sky outside was an expanse of light grey clouds, heavy with the promise of rain. For the moment, it was quiet, but there was a hum in the air—a tension that could be felt in the very atmosphere. In the city of Isothar, the residents were going about their daily routines, but there was an undercurrent of unease. Something was changing, and they could all sense it.
Lysandra moved through the bustling market street, her mind more focused on the weight of the letter in her bag than the calls of vendors selling their wares. She passed the butcher's stall, the scent of fresh meat mingling with the spices from a nearby herb merchant. The heat from the brazier warmed the cool air, but it did little to ease the tightness in her chest.
Her steps faltered for a moment as her eyes caught sight of a small gathering near the fountain at the center of the square. Several people stood in a huddle, talking in hushed voices. Lysandra could feel the curiosity tugging at her, but she forced herself to keep walking. It was none of her concern. At least, not yet.
The letter in her bag was a reminder of something far more pressing. She needed to reach the temple before the sun set. There, she would meet with the High Priestess to discuss matters of great importance. There was talk of a rising power in the north—whispers of a dark force growing stronger every day. While the rest of the city carried on with their daily lives, Lysandra felt a pull, a calling that was hard to ignore.
As she passed the fountain, the murmur of voices reached her ears. She couldn't help but slow down, curiosity getting the better of her. A man, tall and broad-shouldered, stood at the center of the group. His voice carried, though he spoke in a low, urgent tone.
"...need to leave. The city won't be safe much longer. I've seen the signs. They're coming."
Lysandra's pulse quickened. They're coming. The words echoed in her mind, repeating like a drumbeat. She knew exactly who he was talking about, though she dared not admit it.
The dark forces from beyond the mountains had always been a myth, something spoken of in hushed whispers. But Lysandra knew better. She had seen the strange symbols and heard the rumors. There was something happening in the world, something that threatened to unravel the very fabric of reality.
She had to get to the temple. Now.
Her legs carried her faster, and the weight of her purpose pushed her onward. The sounds of the market faded as she moved away, and soon, she reached the towering stone structure of the temple. Its grand arches loomed above her, and the air seemed cooler as she approached. The doors were massive, their intricate carvings depicting scenes of battles fought long ago.
Inside, the temple was silent, save for the soft echo of footsteps on marble floors. Lysandra was greeted by the high priestess, a woman who had seen more years than anyone cared to count. Her long, silver hair shone under the flickering light of candles that lined the stone walls.
"You're here," the High Priestess said, her voice calm but edged with a sense of urgency. "I've been waiting for you."
Lysandra stepped into the inner sanctum of the temple, the air thick with the scent of incense. She felt the weight of the High Priestess's gaze upon her, sharp and penetrating, as if the woman could see directly into her soul. The walls were adorned with ancient relics, and the soft light of the candles cast long shadows, adding to the already heavy atmosphere.
"You've been called here for a reason," the High Priestess continued, her voice a mere whisper now. "The balance is shifting, and those who walk the path of the old ways must be ready. You've felt it, haven't you?"
Lysandra nodded, her throat tight. "Yes," she whispered. "I've seen the signs. I know something is coming… something terrible."
The High Priestess's eyes glinted with a knowing look, but there was something else there, too—something dark, something hidden beneath the surface. "The forces at play are far greater than any of us could have anticipated. What you feel is but the beginning. Soon, the veil between worlds will tear, and the darkness will spill forth."
A chill ran down Lysandra's spine as the High Priestess took a step forward. Her old, frail hand reached out, grasping Lysandra's arm with surprising strength.
"You must make your choice now, Lysandra. Will you stand with us and face what's coming, or will you turn away?"
The weight of those words hung in the air between them, thick and suffocating. Lysandra could feel her heart pounding in her chest, the pressure of the decision weighing on her shoulders.
"I…" She started, but no words came.
The High Priestess released her arm, her gaze softening. "You don't have to decide yet. But the time will come soon. And when it does, you will know what to do."
Lysandra opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say another word, the room was suddenly plunged into darkness. The torches lining the walls flickered out in unison, and an eerie silence filled the air.
The High Priestess's voice echoed in the darkness, low and steady. "Remember, Lysandra… darkness does not wait for anyone. It moves quickly. It moves silently."
The silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity, and Lysandra's breath quickened. She felt as though the walls of the temple were closing in around her, the weight of the moment pressing down with unbearable force.
Then, just as quickly as the darkness had come, the torches flared back to life, casting their golden light across the room. The High Priestess was gone.
Lysandra stood there, trembling, her mind reeling. What had just happened? And what did it all mean?
The High Priestess's final words lingered in the air, and Lysandra knew one thing for certain—her journey had just begun, and the path ahead would be filled with peril.
As she turned and walked back toward the temple's grand doors, she could not shake the feeling that the world she had once known was slipping away, piece by piece. And the storm was coming.
The question was… would she be ready for it?
PERTIMBANGAN PENCIPTA 
Ironmaker
Ironmaker We got a little carried away with the complexity and depth of the narrative in this chapter—apologies for splitting it into two parts! We simply couldn’t help but explore the growing tension and expand on the mysteries unfolding in Aetheris. The world is vast, and there are so many secrets to uncover! We promise it will all be worth it, as the stakes rise higher with every page. Thank you for sticking with us as the story unfolds in unexpected ways.
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone