Chapter 70 – Elandor's Judgment
Elandor stood before the pedestal, his fingers inches away from the cold, glowing stone. His heart raced, but his face remained calm, his exterior betraying none of the fear that gnawed at him from within. He had witnessed both Caledon and Liora undergo their trials, had seen the pain in their eyes when they returned. And now, it was his turn.
He glanced back briefly at his companions. Caledon's face was pale, his expression hardened by whatever battle he had fought in his mind. Liora's gaze was distant, though her stance carried the weight of someone who had conquered a deep, inner struggle. They had faced their demons.
Now Elandor had to face his.
Taking a breath, he pressed his palm to the pedestal.
The world around him shattered into fragments of light. Everything vanished, and for a moment, there was only darkness—endless, suffocating darkness. Then, slowly, a scene materialized before him, like mist solidifying into reality.
He was no longer in the cavern. Instead, he found himself standing on the balcony of a grand palace, overlooking a sprawling city bathed in twilight. The sun hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows over the streets below. The city was familiar. Too familiar.
It was his home.
The Kingdom of Astria, once vibrant and full of life, now stood on the edge of collapse. The streets were empty, the buildings crumbling from neglect. A chilling silence hung in the air, and the once-proud banners of his family fluttered weakly in the wind, tattered and forgotten.
Elandor's heart clenched as he gazed at the ruins of his kingdom. This was his greatest fear—what he had fought so hard to prevent. The fall of Astria.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?"
The voice startled him. He turned sharply to see a figure standing beside him, leaning casually against the balcony railing. The man wore the royal colors of Astria, though his face was obscured by the shadows of the setting sun.
Elandor knew that voice.
"Father?" he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
The figure stepped forward, revealing the face of King Aldemar, Elandor's father. The king's eyes gleamed with a mix of amusement and bitterness. "Look at what you've done, my son," Aldemar said, gesturing to the ruined city below. "This is the legacy you've left behind."
Elandor's breath caught in his throat. "No… this isn't real. This can't be real."
"Isn't it?" Aldemar's voice was cold, laced with accusation. "You had the power to stop this. You had the chance to save us, but you let it all slip away."
"I tried!" Elandor shouted, his voice echoing through the empty halls of the palace. "I did everything I could to protect Astria!"
"Did you?" Aldemar's gaze bore into him, piercing through his defenses. "Or were you too afraid to make the hard choices? Too weak to bear the burden of true leadership?"
Elandor shook his head, his fists clenching at his sides. "I wasn't weak. I wasn't afraid."
His father's expression softened, but the pity in his eyes was even more unbearable than the anger. "You always had potential, Elandor. You could have been great. But you let your fears control you. You let doubt creep in, and now…" He gestured to the city once more. "This is the result."
The weight of his father's words pressed down on Elandor's chest, suffocating him. He had spent his life living in the shadow of King Aldemar, trying to live up to the expectations of the great ruler who had come before him. But no matter what he did, it had never been enough.
"You're wrong," Elandor said quietly, though his voice wavered with uncertainty. "I've made mistakes, yes. But I've also made sacrifices. I've done everything I could to keep this kingdom together."
Aldemar's eyes narrowed. "And yet, here we are. You failed."
The word echoed in Elandor's mind, reverberating through every fiber of his being. Failure. It was the one thing he had feared above all else. The one thing he had fought so hard to avoid. And yet, no matter how hard he tried, it seemed that failure had always been waiting for him.
"I'm not a failure," Elandor whispered, more to himself than to his father. "I can still fix this. I can still make things right."
Aldemar laughed, the sound cold and mocking. "You can't fix what's already broken, Elandor. You're too late."
"No," Elandor said, his voice growing stronger. "It's never too late."
With a surge of determination, he turned away from his father and stepped toward the edge of the balcony, looking out over the ruined city. He had spent too long letting fear control him, letting doubt whisper lies in his ear. But not anymore.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and allowed the truth to wash over him.
He had failed. He had made mistakes. But that didn't mean he couldn't still fight for what he believed in. It didn't mean he couldn't still save Astria.
When he opened his eyes, the city below had changed. The crumbling buildings had begun to repair themselves, the streets filling with light and life once more. The banners of Astria flew proudly once again, and the sound of laughter and music filled the air.
Elandor turned to face his father, but Aldemar was gone. In his place stood a mirror, and reflected in its surface was not the man Elandor had always feared he would become, but the man he was now—strong, determined, and unafraid.
"I am Elandor," he said aloud, his voice firm and steady. "And I will not let fear define me."
The world around him shimmered and dissolved into light, and when the brightness faded, Elandor was back in the cavern, his hand still resting on the pedestal. His heart pounded in his chest, but this time, it was not from fear—it was from a newfound resolve.
He had passed the trial.
The hooded figure stepped forward, their voice quiet but filled with respect. "You have faced your judgment, and you have emerged victorious."
Elandor nodded, feeling the weight of the moment settle over him. He had confronted his greatest fear, and he had come out stronger for it. But as he glanced at Caledon and Liora, he knew that this was only the beginning. There were greater challenges ahead—challenges that would test not only their strength, but their very souls.
As they prepared to move forward, deeper into the heart of the Accord, Elandor couldn't help but feel a sense of unity with his companions. They had each faced their own demons, and together, they would face whatever came next.
For the fate of the Celestial Accord—and the world—depended on it.