**Chapter 38: The Forgotten Fate**
Eliza's mind whirled as the threads of the forgotten story began to weave together, her consciousness tethered to the heart of the Story Tree. The overwhelming magic surged through her, almost too powerful to control. She could feel the weight of the forgotten tale pressing against her, urging her to finish it before the unraveling consumed everything.
But it was incomplete—a puzzle with pieces that didn't yet fit.
"Come on, Eliza," she muttered to herself, her voice echoing in the void. "You can do this. Just find the missing parts."
The images from the erased story flashed through her mind again, sharper now. There was the figure, cloaked in shadow, once a powerful being meant to have its own tale told. But the story had been torn from the First Story, leaving it fractured, an empty space where it should have been. Its erasure had caused the imbalance, and now, that imbalance was unraveling the entire narrative fabric of the realms.
The forgotten figure's presence loomed large in her thoughts, its anger palpable, but underneath that rage was something else—a sorrow, a deep wound born from abandonment.
"Who are you really?" Eliza whispered into the void, though she knew the answer wouldn't come easily.
Behind her, she could feel the Story Tree's magic flickering, growing weaker. Time was running out.
---
Outside of the void, the battle raged on. Elsa, Mulan, Ariel, and Tiana stood their ground, facing the shadowy figure that continued to grow in power as the fissure in the Story Tree widened. Elsa's icy defenses were holding, barely, but the relentless waves of dark energy battered against them.
"We can't keep this up forever," Elsa gritted, her hands trembling as another wall of ice shattered.
Ariel's trident crackled with energy as she flung another bolt toward the figure, but it barely slowed its advance. "We just need to buy Eliza more time," she said, glancing toward the tree where Eliza stood, her hands pressed to the bark, eyes closed in concentration.
Mulan wiped sweat from her brow and readied herself for the next strike. "We can do this," she said firmly. "Eliza will finish the story. She always does."
Tiana, clutching her amulet, nodded but remained quiet. The sky above them darkened further, the magic of the unraveling realms seeping into every corner of the Star Sanctuary.
Suddenly, the shadowy figure's voice boomed once more, sending a chill through the air. "You are too late. Even if she restores what was taken, the damage has already begun. I will not be erased again."
---
Inside the void, Eliza felt the pull of the figure's words—its desperation, its desire to be remembered, to exist. The magic churned around her as she pieced together the fragments of its story.
And then it hit her. The story had been erased because it was a story of corruption, a tale that was never meant to unfold. The figure was not cast aside simply for being a mistake—it had been removed because its existence would have threatened the very balance of the realms. Its power was too great, its nature too dark. The First Story had tried to protect the realms by erasing the figure's tale.
But now, the story's erasure had caused an even greater imbalance. Eliza had to finish it, but not in the way the figure wanted. She had to write a new ending—one that restored balance without allowing the figure to reclaim its original power.
Her pulse quickened as the plan formed in her mind.
---
Outside, the shadowy figure lashed out, sending a wave of energy toward Eliza's companions. Elsa barely managed to summon a barrier of ice, but the force shattered it instantly, sending her and the others flying backward.
The figure's form solidified further, dark and terrible, its glowing eyes locked onto Eliza. It raised a hand, preparing to strike.
But before it could unleash its power, a voice cut through the air—Eliza's voice.
"Enough!"
The figure froze, its gaze shifting back toward the Story Tree. Eliza had stepped away from the tree, her eyes blazing with determination.
"I know who you are," she said, her voice carrying with it a weight that silenced the entire courtyard. "I know why you were erased. And I know why you cannot be allowed to reclaim your story."
The figure's eyes narrowed. "You dare deny me?"
"I don't deny you," Eliza said, her voice calm but firm. "I acknowledge you. You were forgotten, and that was a mistake. But the story you wanted to tell—the power you wanted to wield—it would have destroyed everything. The First Story tried to protect the realms by erasing you, but in doing so, it only created more chaos."
Eliza raised her hand, the magic of the Story Tree still pulsing within her. "But now, I'm giving you a chance to exist again. To have a place in the First Story—but not as you were before. You don't get to be the villain of this tale."
The shadowy figure hissed, its form flickering as if torn between fury and confusion. "What are you doing?"
"I'm finishing your story," Eliza said, her eyes glowing with the power of the First Story. "But I'm rewriting the ending."
Before the figure could react, Eliza reached out with her magic, weaving the threads of the forgotten story into the fabric of the realms once more. But instead of restoring the figure to its former glory, she wove a new narrative—a tale of redemption, of balance. The figure's power would no longer threaten the realms; it would become part of the very magic that held them together, a guardian of the stories instead of their destroyer.
The dark mist that had been swirling around the courtyard began to dissipate, the crack in the Story Tree slowly sealing itself as the magic stabilized.
The figure's form flickered one last time before it began to dissolve, its dark silhouette breaking apart into fragments of light. Its voice, now calm and resigned, echoed through the air.
"You… rewrote me."
Eliza nodded. "You were never meant to destroy the realms. You were meant to protect them."
With a final sigh, the figure disappeared, its essence merging with the magic of the Story Tree.
The ground stopped shaking, and the sky began to clear. The balance had been restored.
Eliza collapsed to her knees, the weight of what she had done crashing over her. The others rushed to her side, their faces a mixture of relief and awe.
"You did it," Ariel whispered, her eyes wide.
Eliza nodded, though exhaustion tugged at her every thought. "I finished the story."
And with that, the forgotten tale finally found its place in the First Story—complete, at last.