The majestic city of Aethelgard loomed before them, a breathtaking spectacle carved into the mountainside. Golden light emanated from within, casting a warm glow on the intricate carvings and soaring towers that reached towards the sky. As they approached, colossal gates of mithril, a metal known for its otherworldly strength, slid open with a silent hum, granting them entry.
Aethelward, his weathered face etched with a mixture of sadness and pride, led them through the bustling city streets. Elara and Anya marveled at the sights – people clad in flowing robes adorned with intricate runes, strange creatures unlike any they had ever seen, and a sense of ancient power that hung heavy in the air.
They arrived at a towering structure of white marble, its entrance guarded by two Wardens clad in gleaming blue armor. Aethelward exchanged a silent greeting with the guards, and they were ushered inside.
The grand hall they entered was vast and awe-inspiring. The ceiling, intricately carved with celestial constellations, seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly light. At the far end, a group of figures sat on a raised dais, their faces obscured by long shadows.
Aethelward approached the dais, bowing respectfully. Ren, Elara, and Anya followed suit, their hearts pounding with nervous anticipation.
A figure cloaked in shimmering white robes rose from the dais. Its face remained shrouded, but its voice, when it spoke, echoed with power and authority.
"Welcome, Aethelward," the figure boomed. "We were surprised to learn of your return, and even more surprised to see you accompanied by potential Wardens."
Aethelward straightened, his voice filled with quiet defiance. "The darkness grows, Esteemed Council," he declared. "These young travelers bear news of a corrupted forest and a growing threat – the Shadowblight."
He gestured towards Ren, and a hush fell over the hall. All eyes turned towards him, scrutinizing him with an intensity that made him feel like an insect under a microscope.
Ren took a deep breath, his gaze meeting the Council's unseen eyes. "We witnessed the corruption firsthand," he said, his voice surprisingly steady for someone facing a room full of legendary Wardens. "Twisted creatures, a lifeless forest, and a darkness that seems to consume everything it touches."
Elara, her voice filled with urgency, added, "We believe the source lies beyond Aethel. There is a malevolent entity, the Shadowblight, that seeks to consume all life."
The Council remained silent for a long moment, the tension in the hall thick enough to cut with a knife. Finally, a different figure spoke, its voice raspy and filled with doubt.
"The Shadowblight is a legend, a story whispered from ages past. We cannot act on mere speculation."
Anya stepped forward, her years as a warrior lending her voice a steely edge. "With all due respect," she said, "we wouldn't be here if the threat wasn't real. We need your help, Wardens. The fate of Aethel, and perhaps all worlds, depends on it."
Another figure on the dais spoke, its voice surprisingly melodic. "Perhaps there is truth to their words. The readings from the celestial obelisks have been… unsettling lately."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the hall. The Council seemed to be divided, some hesitant, others swayed by the urgency in their pleas.
Aethelward stepped forward again, his voice filled with quiet conviction. "These young ones may not be fully trained Wardens," he admitted, "but they possess the potential. They have the blood of Wardens flowing through their veins, and they have faced the darkness head-on."
He placed a hand on Ren's shoulder, his touch sending a surge of warmth and blue energy through him. A collective gasp echoed through the hall as the symbol of the stag, the mark of the Wardens, shimmered faintly on the back of Ren's hand.
The revelation hung heavy in the air. The Council, once skeptical, now looked at Ren with newfound respect. The blood of a Warden, a legacy passed down through generations, couldn't be ignored.
Finally, the figure in the shimmering white robes spoke again, its voice resonating with a renewed sense of purpose. "Very well," it declared. "We shall hear the young Wardens' full report. Then, the Council will decide on a course of action."
Relief washed over Ren. They had been granted a chance, a platform to plead their case. The fate of Aethelgard, and perhaps his own destiny, hung in the balance. As he recounted their harrowing journey, the horrors they had witnessed, and the growing threat of the Shadowblight, Ren knew this was only the way