King Uldraxis entered the throne room with the same majesty that always accompanied him, his steps resonating like echoes from some unfathomable abyss.
The shadows that inhabited the place seemed to respond to his presence, dancing and intertwining around him, as if celebrating the return of their lord.
The members of the Umbral Council, who until then had been engulfed in uncertainty, bowed their heads in respect, though their minds raced, trying to decipher the reasons behind this unusual departure and the imminent return.
Morgharyn, with his stern expression, felt a growing tension in the air. "What has triggered this urgency?" he thought, his dark eyes fixed on the monarch's face, searching for answers in every movement, in every crease of his stony expression.
"He is not one to act without reason… But what reason could this be that even we do not know?"
Ilithrys, on the other hand, could not take her eyes off the shadows surrounding the King, perceiving chaotic patterns that once seemed familiar, now distorted.
"The layers of reality... are vibrating," thought the Weaver, as her fingers twitched, sensing a slight misalignment in the fabric of the realm that had cost her so much to maintain.
"Something is interfering… something or someone."
But then, everyone noticed the impossible. Behind King Uldraxis, two figures advanced.
A disheveled-looking man, with silver hair falling in rebellious strands around his face, walked barefoot, with a firm posture, but seemingly oblivious to the solemnity of the place. And next to him, a girl. A human girl.
An indescribable chill ran through the members of the Council.
Sorgos the Elder was the first to try to rationalize what their eyes were seeing.
"This is not possible," he thought, tightening his grip on the Æterstone staff. "The Umbral Realm is no place for the living. No mortal has crossed its veil without being utterly consumed… How is it that these mortals are here? How has what does not belong entered the Umbral Realm?"
Velkael, clad in his imposing armor reflecting the void that surrounded him, frowned beneath his dark helm. "My defenses… did not fail… or did they?"
His thoughts slipped between disbelief and rage. "Who are these mortals? How have they achieved what no being of flesh and blood has ever accomplished? If they can come here, what else might they be capable of?"
Lady Merys felt a disturbance in the Dream Flow even before seeing the two figures. In her ethereal eyes danced fragmented images of possibilities, but none of them fit.
"These are not dreams," she thought, struggling to find an explanation. "What I see… is real, but it shouldn't be. The living do not walk these grounds. Something in the dream's fabric is… broken."
Meanwhile, King Uldraxis continued advancing, with a serene yet imposing demeanor, as if each step reaffirmed his absolute dominion over the realm he ruled.
The shadows around him whispered, but offered no answers. And behind him, the man and the girl walked in a world that had never belonged to them, defying the very essence of the Umbral Realm.
King Uldraxis ascended to his throne, though not before his sharp gaze swept over the Council as if his thoughts pierced through the very fabric of the Umbral Realm.
The hall remained in tense silence, interrupted only by the faint crackle of shadows dancing around him.
Each step he took seemed to form living shadows that emerged to support his feet.
When he reached the throne, he sat with silent majesty, without needing to proclaim his authority.
His gaze, casual but penetrating, fell on Sorgos. The elderly advisor, always alert to the slightest details, caught the message.
It was a silent order that resonated only in Sorgos' mind. Feeling the weight of the message the king had conveyed, he walked slowly toward his task.
His staff echoed with each step, while his mind raced with the echo of the order. "This cannot be ignored," he thought.
He knew that what the king had seen in those two mortals was of utmost importance, though what it was still eluded him. But he dared not question.
As he crossed the hall to fulfill the command, his eyes couldn't help but rest once again on the two impossible guests.
The man walking beside the girl maintained his carefree demeanor, as if the weight of the majesty surrounding him meant nothing. Yet there was something in his eyes, a spark of deep knowledge, as if he understood more than he let on. He did not look directly at the throne, but somehow, he was aware of every movement of the monarch.
The girl, on the other hand, was a whirlwind of contained emotions. Her large eyes darted quickly, jumping from one corner of the hall to another, fascinated by the shadows dancing on the walls and by the members of the Umbral Council who watched her with suspicion.
Every detail, every spark of darkness stirring in the royal hall, captivated her attention almost compulsively.
And though she stayed close to the man, almost clinging to his side, it was not fear that made her hold on to him, but some sort of instinct, a need to remain by his side in this strange place.
"Curious… but not fearful," Morgharyn thought as he watched the girl from his position.
"What kind of creature could remain so calm in a place like this? No mortal should be able to stand here without crumbling under the weight of the Umbral Realm." His gaze narrowed, trying to unravel the truth of these two beings.
Ilithrys, for her part, remained silent, her restless hands playing with the invisible threads of the realm's fabric.
She could feel the vibrations of the place, the tensions accumulating in the air, but above all, she felt something else in that man. Something she couldn't decipher.
"His presence distorts the fabric," the Shadow Weaver thought.
The girl knelt gently, and her small fingers touched the dark, pulsating floor of the throne room.
With an expression of wonder she couldn't hide, she looked at Ralkar and asked softly, but filled with curiosity:
—Ralkar… what is this? —her eyes shone as she caressed the surface, as if she had never felt anything like it before.
The members of the Umbral Council exchanged looks of disbelief. How was it possible that a human girl was not only standing in the Umbral Realm, but also showing curiosity instead of fear?
Ralkar, on the other hand, seemed completely unperturbed. With an almost unsettling calm, he crouched beside her, looking at the floor as if remembering something.
—It's Æterstone —he replied casually—. The foundation of this realm and everything you see here.
His words resonated in the throne room, where even the shadows seemed to pause their dance for a moment, as if paying attention to the conversation.
The entire Council held their breath.
Not only because Ralkar was speaking about one of the Umbral Realm's secrets, but because of the way he did so, as if it were something completely ordinary.
Morgharyn frowned, trying to understand how a mortal could speak so familiarly about a material that even the most powerful beings in the realm handled with difficulty.
—Æterstone —Ralkar continued, observing the girl's fascinated expression— is what holds everything here. The spiritual energy of the World's Heartbeat concentrates and solidifies to form this material. It's resistant, almost indestructible, but it can also be shaped, depending on how energy flows through it.
The girl followed every word as if it were a secret lesson, her hands still tracing the translucent, dark surface, whose veins glowed faintly like distant stars.
—It's like it's… alive —she whispered.
Ralkar smiled slightly, and that spark of deep knowledge shone in his eyes once more.
—It is, in a way. Not like you or me, but Æterstone responds to the World's Heartbeat. It absorbs energy from everything around it and redirects it. If you concentrate hard enough, you could even feel how it flows —he explained, leaning closer to her, his words laden with an impossible calm in that tense atmosphere.
Sorgos, who had paused his advance toward the exit, watched them from a distance, his mind filled with questions he dared not voice aloud.
"How is it possible that this man… a mortal, knows so much about something so essential to the Umbral Realm?"
The silence in the hall grew heavier, broken only by the girl's voice once more, this time directing her attention to the shadows dancing on the walls.
—And the shadows? —she asked with the same curiosity—. Are they alive too?
Ralkar watched her for a moment before responding, his expression softening a bit more, as if seeing the world through the girl's eyes.
—It depends on what you mean by "alive" —he finally said, enigmatically—. The shadows here are more than just reflections of light. They're part of the Umbral Realm's fabric. They respond to King Uldraxis' will and the forces that control this realm. But they don't live like we do. They just… exist.
The girl frowned, clearly pondering what she had just heard. However, she didn't seem frightened by the answer, but rather intrigued.
Morgharyn pressed her lips together, her mind working at full speed. "This girl is not ordinary," she thought with growing unease. "And this man… he's not as simple as he seems. There's something more hidden behind his words."
Ilithrys, sensing the rift in the Threshold intensify, watched Ralkar with even more attention, her restless fingers weaving invisible threads in the air.
"He shouldn't know so much," she thought. "Something or someone has given him this knowledge, but to what end?"
King Uldraxis, seated on his throne of living shadows, spoke for the first time since his arrival, his voice resonating from the depths of an infinite abyss.
—Ralkar Drakhalir —the name was pronounced with a weight that seemed to squeeze the air, each syllable carrying the force of an unyielding will—. You have spoken too familiarly about the secrets of my kingdom. You know of the Æterstone, the World's Heart… —Uldraxis let his voice slither like a serpent through the shadows before adding—, and you speak of it as if it were commonplace to you.
The entire hall seemed to hold its breath. The Council members, who rarely showed emotion, exchanged furtive glances, aware that something dangerous was at play.
Ralkar raised his gaze, meeting the monarch's eyes. There was no fear in him, only a calculated calm. He knew that any answer he gave would be evaluated with absolute precision.
—I have seen many things in my travels, Your Majesty —he replied in a soft, almost relaxed voice—. And I've learned that knowledge is not exclusive to one place or one being. Sometimes, answers come to us in unexpected ways. The World's Heart, the Æterstone… —Ralkar allowed a slight smile to curl his lips—. They are not so unknown if you know where to look.
The Council watched the scene with renewed interest.
Morgharyn, whose eyes had not left Ralkar since the beginning, gripped the hilt of her staff, the glint in her eyes revealing her displeasure with what she was hearing.
Ilithrys, always weaving invisible threads, furrowed her brow. None of them understood how a mere mortal could possess such knowledge, but they knew his words were full of riddles.
King Uldraxis, however, was not swayed by the ambiguity of the response. His gaze hardened, and his voice turned into a blade that cut through the air.
—Where would you, a mortal, search for answers that few inhabitants of the Threshold know? —The question was a trap, a net designed to expose any lie or weakness.
—Sometimes —Ralkar began, with a pause that seemed deliberate—, knowledge comes through the cracks where others dare not look. The Threshold is vast, Your Majesty, and its secrets are not always under control. What I have seen and learned… was not by choice, but by destiny.
The king studied him, evaluating every word, every inflection. There was a dangerous game unfolding, and Uldraxis was not a monarch who liked games.
—There is more to you than meets the eye —he finally said, his words laden with a silent warning.
The king reclined on his throne, and the shadows enveloped him once more.
Though he wasn't satisfied with the answer, he knew that time was his ally. The truth would come to light, but not now. Ralkar and the girl would be watched with even more scrutiny.
—For now, I will let it be —said the king, with a coldness that made the entire hall shiver—. But do not forget, Ralkar Drakhalir, that in my kingdom, no secret remains hidden forever.
...
The silence in the throne room persisted, heavy like a shroud that enveloped everyone present.
King Uldraxis, seated on his throne of living shadows, didn't speak again after Ralkar's brief reply. He had expected more; that was evident to anyone who knew the monarch well, but he didn't press the matter.
Something much deeper was happening, and although his mind worked in the background of that mystery, the king didn't consider this the right moment to delve into it.
Ralkar remained standing, his posture relaxed but vigilant, as if the dense, oppressive air didn't affect him at all. His eyes, now free from the king's gaze, shifted toward the girl.
She, who had once been captivated by the grandeur of the room, now sat on the floor of Æterstone, bored, trying to play with the shadows around her. Her small fingers attempted to catch the dark shapes that slithered near her feet, but every time she tried, the shadows slipped through her hands, elusive.
Ralkar watched her in silence, an inscrutable expression on his face. Despite his usual calm, a faint shadow of concern flickered in his eyes, though he didn't let it show in his posture.
The Umbral Council also kept their distance, each member lost in their own thoughts, but none brave enough to break the silence.
Velkael, tense and silent, remained alert, like a soldier ready for battle.
Morgharyn observed the girl with a piercing gaze, trying to decipher the enigma she had brought with her.
And then, like a whisper filtering through the shadows, a soft, ethereal voice echoed in the room.
—Angyara...
The name floated in the air like a distant melody, filled with emotion and doubt, as if the voice speaking it could barely believe it.
Everyone in the room, from the imposing Uldraxis to the members of the Umbral Council, turned their attention to the source of the voice.
But the most intense reaction came from the girl herself.
Angyara, who had been focused on her game with the shadows, froze upon hearing her name. Her expression transformed into a mix of confusion and wonder. "Who? Who has spoken my name?"
She hadn't told anyone, not even Ralkar, with whom she strangely felt safer.
Her large eyes instinctively searched for the source of the voice, scanning the vast throne room until they finally settled. There, in the midst of the gloom, a female figure began to materialize, accompanied by Sorgos, who stood beside her with a solemn expression.
The presence of the female figure was not only a distortion of what was once mortal but a manifestation of the very essence of the Threshold.
Her translucent body fluctuated between clarity and opacity, as if she were made of smoke caught in an imperceptible breeze. The dark energy of the realm had marked her form; her features, though still vaguely human, blurred, as if reality itself could not fully contain her existence.
Despite that fragmented appearance, there was something in the figure that felt powerfully familiar to the girl.
The figure's eyes, deep wells of pale light, empty and yet intensely charged with life, met Angyara's, and a distant echo resonated within the child. An echo she had felt before, in the stillness of past nights, when her father sat beside her, tracing with tired fingers the outline of a face in the dust.
It was a face she had never seen, but one she knew in her heart, the hazy image of a woman who filled her dreams before sleep.
Her clan had destroyed every portrait, every tangible memory of her mother, but her father, with love and longing, had gifted her that memory made of lines in the dirt and whispers at dusk.
And now, without needing to unravel the distorted features of that ethereal figure, Angyara knew. She felt it deep within her being: this was her mother.
A whirlwind of emotions enveloped her, clouding her mind.
She stood up with a surge of emotion she didn't fully understand, her legs trembling under the sudden weight of the revelation.
The silence of the room broke when her voice, small but loaded with overwhelming intensity, escaped her lips.
—Mom...
The word came out as a whisper, trembling and full of wonder, but its echo reverberated in the empty throne room.
Without taking her eyes off the figure, she felt every fiber of her being affirm what her mind could barely accept.
Along with that certainty came a wave of confusion, fear, and hope. She had never imagined something like this could happen.
—Mom...? —she repeated, this time with more strength, her voice cracking under the emotion building in her chest.
The figure did not respond with words, but a slight tilt of her head was enough. It was a gentle gesture, filled with a sweetness that, though distorted by the nature of the Threshold, resonated deeply in the girl's heart.
Angyara felt tears well up in her eyes, streaming down her face, as the weight of that revelation enveloped her completely.