After what felt like a week of traveling, the group finally reached the outskirts of Elanor. The ancient city stood on the edge of a vast canyon, its towering walls covered in ivy and moss. Once, it bad been the heart of magic in Eldoria, a place where mages and scholar from across the land came to study and learn. But now, it was a shadow of its former self, a crumbling fortress on the edge of oblivion.
As they approached the gates, Aelric felt a shiver run down his spine. There was something about the city that flet...off. It was as though the very air around it was heavy with old magic, magic that had long since faded but still lingered like a ghost.
"Welcome to Elanor," Lyra said, her voice tinged with sadness. "It's not what it once was, but its the last stronghold we have."
The gates creaked open. and they entred they city. inside, the streets were eerily queit . A few figures moved through the shadows mages and solders, their faces geunt and waery. It was clear that the war with the shadows King had taken its toll on the once thriving city.
Aelric followed Lyra through the winding streets, his eyes wide with awe and trepidation, they passed towering spires, broken statues of long forgotten heroes, and libraries that had been left to decay. Yet beneath the ruin, there was still a sense of power, a feeling that this city had once been a beacon of hope.
As they approached the central tower, Lyra turned to Aelric. "The council will want to meet you. They'll want to see of you truely are the Lost Heir."
Aelric's stomach churned with nerves. "And if I'm not?"
Lyra's gaze softned. "You are. I've seen the signs, the magic within you. But the council... they will need proof. Be prepared for skepticism."
Aelric took a deep breath and nodded. Whatever lay ahead, he would face it.
As they entred the tower, the heavy doors closed behind them with a resounding thud, sealing Aelric's fate.