Chapter 2: The Echoes of The Past
The air around Velarion, the city of justice, was thick with the scent of ash and decay. Once, this city had been a beacon of civilization, but now, it was a wasteland of broken stone and twisted metal. Asher and Silas stood on the outskirts, silent as they surveyed the remnants of a lost world.
"This place," Asher began, his voice low, "it's like something out of a nightmare."
"It was a dream once," Silas replied, his gaze fixed on the distant ruins.
"A dream that turned into a nightmare because of one man's vision of justice."
Asher frowned. "What happened here?"
Silas didn't answer immediately.
"A savior happened. Someone who thought they could impose their will, their morality, on an entire city. They believed they were right—believed it so strongly that they were willing to destroy everything to achieve it."
"And they succeeded," Asher muttered, glancing around at the devastation.
Silas nodded. "Yes, they succeeded. But their success was the city's downfall."
Asher felt a chill run down his spine. "You brought me here to show me this?"
"I brought you here because you need to understand," Silas said.
"Power isn't just about strength. It's about responsibility. Velarion was destroyed because someone forgot that."
Asher looked back at the ruins, a sinking feeling in his gut. "So what do you want me to do?"
Silas turned to face him fully, his expression unreadable.
"I want you to explore this city. Find out what happened. Then decide if it's worth saving."
"Saving?" Asher echoed, his eyes widening. "You want me to bring this place back to life?"
"If you think it deserves it," Silas replied calmly.
"But remember, bringing something back isn't the same as fixing it. You'll need to understand what went wrong here before you can make that choice."
Asher took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "Why cant you do it? Your a god arent you? You have the power, the capacity to do this, why me?"
Silas replied "Im only teaching you a lesson, something which you'Il use when your in danger. I will aid you when its needed, I am always looking at you, wherever you go. Ill always be there."
Asher took a deep breath, "Okay, ill do it." he affirmed
Without another word, he stepped forward, his boots crunching on the debris-strewn ground. The ruins loomed ahead, dark and foreboding, but Asher didn't hesitate. Knowing Silas is looking after him. He had to see this through.
As Asher made his way deeper into the city, the scale of the destruction became more apparent. Buildings lay in shattered heaps, their once-proud facades crumbling into dust. The streets were choked with debris, making it difficult to move.
Despite the desolation, something lingered in the air—a faint energy, barely perceptible, but present nonetheless. Asher could feel it, a pulse of life beneath the surface of death.
He paused in front of a large, crumbling structure, the entrance blocked by rubble. But there was a soft glow emanating from within, a light that beckoned him closer.
"What is that?" Asher whispered, more to himself than to Silas.
Reaching out with his senses, Asher focused on the energy, tuning into its frequency. The air around him shimmered, and for a moment, he saw the city as it once was—alive, vibrant, full of people.
Then the vision faded, leaving only the ruins.
"Just a memory," Asher muttered, shaking his head. "But there's something here. Something important."
He turned to the rubble blocking the entrance. Raising his hand, he channeled his energy, and with a sharp gesture, the debris shifted, clearing a path.
Asher stepped inside, finding himself in what had once been a grand hall. The walls were lined with intricate carvings, depicting scenes from Velarion's history—its rise, its fall, its moment of destruction. The carvings were damaged, but their meaning was clear.
"This place... it was a monument to their pride," Asher said softly, tracing his fingers along the carvings."
"But pride wasn't the cause of their downfall," Silas's voice echoed in the hall, though he remained outside.
"It was their belief that they could impose their morality on everyone else. That their vision was the only one that mattered."
Asher's eyes were drawn to a large, cracked mirror at the far end of the room. The mirror's surface was marred by time, but something about it seemed... alive, sentient.
"What's with this mirror?" Asher asked, approaching it cautiously.
Silas's voice was calm, almost detached.
"It's a window, or moreover a gateway to the past. Touch it, and you'll see what happened here. You'll understand why Velarion fell."
Asher hesitated, then reached out. His fingers brushed the surface of the mirror, and the world around him shifted.
Suddenly, Asher was no longer in the ruins. He stood in the grand hall as it had once been—whole, magnificent, filled with people. But these weren't ordinary people. Their eyes glowed with power, their bodies radiating energy.
"I'm seeing the past," Asher realized, his voice a mere whisper.
The air crackled with tension as the people argued, their voices a chaotic jumble. At the center of the room stood a tall, imposing figure, their presence commanding attention. Asher knew instantly that this was the one Silas had spoken of—the savior who had destroyed the city.
"I have seen the future!" the figure declared, their voice booming.
"A future where Velarion stands as a beacon of justice, free from the corruption that plagues it!"
"But at what cost?" someone in the crowd demanded. "You would destroy everything we've built for the sake of your vision?"
The figure's eyes blazed with conviction. "Destruction is necessary for rebirth! We must sacrifice the present for the sake of the future!"
Asher watched as the figures hands had energy crackling around them. The crowd recoiled in fear, but it was too late. The figure's power surged, and in an instant, everything was consumed by light.
The vision ended, and Asher was thrown back into the present. He staggered, his heart racing.
"They thought they were saving the city," Asher muttered, his voice shaking. "But they destroyed it instead."
Silas's voice was quiet, almost sad. "They believed their vision of morality was absolute. And in doing so, they lost sight of the consequences."
Asher felt a heavy weight settle in his chest. "And now I have to decide whether to bring this place back?"
"You do," Silas confirmed.
"But remember, it's not just about restoring what was lost. It's about creating something better—something that learns from the past, rather than repeating it."
Asher stared at the mirror, his mind racing. "And if I get it wrong? If I make the same mistake?"
"Then Velarion will fall again," Silas said simply. "But that's a risk you'll have to take."
Asher clenched his fists, his resolve hardening. "No. I won't let that happen."
"And now you have a choice," Silas said. "Will you restore Velarion? Or let it remain as a warning?"
Asher hesitated, the weight of the decision pressing down on him.
"If I bring it back, it could happen again. But if I don't... this place will stay a monument to failure."
Silas nodded. "Exactly. Power gives you the ability to change things. But it also gives you the responsibility to make those changes wisely."
Asher took a deep breath, looking out at the ruins. "I can't just leave it like this. But I can't bring it back as it was, either."
Silas watched him intently. "Then what will you do?"
"I'll restore it," Asher said, his voice firm. "But not as it was. I'll make it better. I'll give it a chance to be something new—something that learns from its past mistakes."
Silas's expression remained neutral, but there was a glimmer of approval in his eyes. "Then do it."
Asher closed his eyes, reaching out with his senses. The energy of the city was still there, waiting for him, but he didn't force it. He guided it gently, shaping it with care, letting it flow through him and into the ruins.
The ground beneath them trembled as the ruins began to shift, the broken buildings slowly knitting themselves back together. But this time, the city wasn't returning to its former state. Asher was careful, deliberate. He guided the energy with a sense of purpose, creating something new from the ashes of the old.
The structures that rose from the earth were different from what had stood before. The buildings were simpler, sturdier, and there was a sense of balance in their design—an emphasis on community rather than grandeur. It was a city rebuilt not for pride or power, but for the people who would live in it.
Asher could feel the city's essence taking shape, the energies of its past merging with the potential for a new future. The air hummed with the vibrant pulse of life, and for a moment, he allowed himself to believe that this time, things would be different.
When the last stone had settled into place, Asher opened his eyes and stepped back. The city of Velarion stood before him, reborn.
"It's done," he said, his voice filled with a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction.
Silas regarded the new city with a critical eye.
"You've created something new, something that reflects the lessons of the past. But do you really believe this will prevent history from repeating itself?"
Asher met Silas's gaze, determination burning in his eyes.
"I've given them a fresh start. It's up to them now."
Silas nodded slowly.
"Perhaps. But remember, Asher—power is a cycle. What you've done here today might just be the beginning of another turn of the wheel."
Before Asher could respond, a sudden, sharp pain shot through his head. He staggered, clutching his temples as a wave of energy surged through him, unlike anything he'd ever felt before. It was raw, chaotic, and impossibly powerful.
"What's happening?" Asher gasped, struggling to stay on his feet.
Silas's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the city.
"Something's wrong. This energy—it's not coming from you."
Asher looked around, his vision blurring. The city he had just restored began to flicker, its form wavering like a mirage. He could feel it—the essence of Velarion was destabilizing, as if something—or someone—was trying to tear it apart from within.
"There's something inside the city,"
Silas said, his voice cold and analytical. "Something powerful."
Asher struggled to focus, trying to push past the searing pain in his head.
"What is it? What's causing this?"
Silas didn't answer immediately. He was scanning the city with his senses, probing the source of the disturbance.
"This energy... it's familiar."
Before Asher could ask what he meant, a deafening roar echoed through the city, shaking the very ground beneath their feet. Asher's eyes widened in horror as he watched the sky above Velarion split open, a jagged tear ripping through reality itself.
From the tear emerged a figure, towering and shrouded in darkness, its form wreathed in swirling tendrils of black energy. The air around it crackled with power, and the city beneath it began to crumble once more, unable to withstand the sheer force of its presence.
Asher stared up at the figure, his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel the immense pressure radiating from it, a power that dwarfed anything he had ever encountered. It was as if the very essence of destruction had taken physical form.
Silas's voice was low, filled with a rare note of tension.
"This is what I feared."
The figure descended slowly, its eyes glowing with a malevolent light as it surveyed the city below. When it spoke, its voice was a deep, resonant growl that sent shivers down Asher's spine.
"You dare to rebuild what I destroyed?"
Asher's breath caught in his throat. "Who... what are you?"
Asher could feel the energy in the air intensifying, the very fabric of reality beginning to warp under the figure's influence.
The space-time around this being was starting to get destroyed. It wasnt any metaphysical or some metaphor too say that hes strong.
His pure presence transcend that of space-time..!
Asher, realized with a growing sense of fear that this being wasn't just powerful—it was beyond anything he had ever imagined. It could destroy entire world, hell maybe even the universe with a single thought!
The figure's gaze locked onto him, and for a moment, Asher felt as if he were being crushed under the weight of its power.
"I am-"