Aelric's world was darkness, and his body weightless, floating in a void without limit. Images flashed across his eyes: the faces of his friends, his people of Elanor, the ruins of Eldoria burning. The weight of his failure crushed him, filling him with despair.
But then, the voice echoed from the void. Soft but powerful, full of warmth he'd never felt.
"Rise, Aelric. Your journey is not over."
He opened his eyes to find himself standing in a vast, ethereal realm. The ground beneath his feet was slick with silver mist, and above him, stars shivered across a sky that seemed to go on forever. Before him, there stood a figure wrapped in light, his face obscured but yet his presence familiar.
"Who… who are you?" Aelric asked, his voice carrying in the stillness.
"I am the spirit of Eldoria," he replied. "The magic that holds in check this land, the essence of all that was and all that will be."
Aelric felt a surge of awe. "Why am I here?"
Because you are the Lost Heir, and in your hands lies the fate of Eldoria." The spirit said, "You have fought bravely, but the power within you has yet to fully awaken. There's a strength only the true heir can wield, a light able to banish even the deepest darkness.
The spirit reached out and touched his hand to Aelric's chest. A brilliant light burst from within him. Aelric gasped as the warmth spread through him, filling him with a power he had never known. All at once, it was as if he were plugged into the very soul of Eldoria, that the magic of the land itself coursed through his veins.
"You must return," the spirit said, its voice growing faint. "Your people need you.
And then in a final flash, he was gone and the world around Aelric dissolving.
When he opened his eyes again, he lay on the earth, his body ringed by the rubble of the broken gate. The sounds of battle filled his ears, but as he struggled to his feet, he knew that the strength running through him was his, yet more than his.
He looked around, saw his allies fighting desperately against the waves of shadow-creatures; Emberclaw roared, still holding back the horde with his flames, while Lyra was casting powerful spells, her face set in determination.
Aelric drew a deep, heavy breath as his hands began to afire with the light of Eldoria. He raised his sword aloft and let the surge of magic course through him, his cry echoing across the battlefield as he loosed a wave of pure energy that sent the Shadow King's forces scattering like leaves before the wind.
The defenders stared upwards in amazement, and Aelric felt their hope revive as he rose with his eyes alight, ablaze with the power of Eldoria.
It was not over yet, but Aelric was ready. For a second time, he had been given a chance, and this time he would not fail.