The Holy Church of Thaloria had always been a formidable force in Avaloria, its influence extending far beyond the sacred halls of its temples. Revered and feared, the Church was a beacon of hope and a bastion of power. But nothing could have prepared the kingdom—or the royal family—for the cataclysmic consequences of Geoffrey Aethoria's gambit. The Church had begun its investigation into the secret power of the Aethereal Kin, and what they uncovered would set the stage for Avaloria's darkest hour.
After weeks of clandestine investigations and secret meetings with Geoffrey's informants, the Inquisitors of Thaloria unearthed a truth that shook them to their core. The power of the Aethereal Kin was real—an ancient force, undeniable and immutable. But it was not a gift that could be claimed by any. It was intrinsically tied to the bloodline of Avaloria itself, a hereditary gift that could only be awakened through a ritual as ancient as the kingdom. It was not a power that could be wielded by the Church, nor by any outsider. The aether flowed solely to those born of the Avaloria bloodline, impervious to transfer, theft, or replication.
Lady Lysandra, overseeing the investigation personally, stood solemnly in the grand cathedral, her expression dark and foreboding. She had harbored hopes that the power of the Aethereal Kin could be harnessed for the Church, a divine force to be wielded for Avaloria's greater good. But now, those hopes were dashed. The power was no divine blessing but a curse, marking the bloodline of the royal family as something both unholy and unnatural.
As she paced before the altar, the shadows flickering in the dim light, her thoughts turned ominous. The blood of Avaloria was a stain upon the land, a malevolent force hidden behind centuries of lies and deception. The Aethereal Kin, with their ability to absorb the aether of slain beasts, were no more than beasts themselves—aberrations masquerading as men. It was a grotesque perversion of nature, an affront to the divine order that could not be tolerated.
"Summon the archbishops," Lady Lysandra commanded, her voice icy and resolute. "It is time to act."
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The gathering of Avaloria's highest religious authorities was swift and decisive. The grand cathedral's vast halls echoed with the murmurs of archbishops, priests, and holy warriors as Lady Lysandra ascended to address them. Her eyes burned with a fierce resolve, her presence commanding the room.
"The truth has come to light," she began, her voice resonant and unwavering. "The Aethereal Kin are not mere warriors; they are a cursed bloodline, condemned by the gods. Their power is not a gift but a corruption. This blasphemous force cannot be shared, nor can it be allowed to persist. The royal family of Avaloria—those who carry the blood of the Aethereal Kin—are heretics, an abomination upon our land. They are beasts in the guise of men."
A hushed silence followed her pronouncement, the weight of her words sinking into the gathered clergy. Faces reflected a mixture of shock, fear, and grim determination. Lady Lysandra pressed on, her voice gaining strength.
"We cannot allow this bloodline to continue," she declared. "If we permit the Aethereal Kin to endure, Avaloria will be plunged into darkness. We must cleanse this kingdom of this vile corruption. The time has come to declare a holy crusade."
A ripple of agreement spread through the assembly, voices rising in fervent accord. The Church had long believed in its divine mission to protect the realm from evil, and now the Aethereal Kin were seen as the gravest threat. Their power, once hidden, was now deemed a profane blight that could no longer be ignored.
"We will rally the nations to our cause!" Lady Lysandra proclaimed, her eyes blazing with an unwavering conviction that seemed to ignite the very air around her. "Together, we shall march upon Avaloria with the fury of a thousand storms and eradicate the Aethereal Kin. Their cursed bloodline will be purged from existence, and our beloved kingdom will finally be freed from their insidious malevolence."
Her voice reverberated through the hall, a clarion call that stirred the hearts of all who listened, casting a shadow of inevitable war and glorious redemption. Lady Lysandra's resolve was unyielding, and her declaration marked the dawn of a new era—one that promised both peril and triumph.
The cathedral erupted in a cacophony of voices, the archbishops and priests fervently calling for action. The Church, united under the banner of divine justice, prepared to unleash a holy crusade upon Avaloria. A crusade that transcended borders, uniting nations in a singular purpose—the annihilation of the Aethereal Kin.
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In the royal palace, King Arnault stood amidst his advisors, his face ashen with disbelief. The Church, once a steadfast ally, had now declared the royal family heretical, beasts to be exterminated. Geoffrey Aethoria's machinations had succeeded in making the Aethereal Kin the target of a merciless holy war.
"Sire," Lord Uriel spoke gravely, his expression carved with a grim severity. "The Holy Church has declared a crusade. They have branded the royal family as heretics, and their fervor will not wane until the Aethereal Kin are obliterated. The bells of war toll for us all."
His voice trembled with the weight of the revelation, the air thick with the promise of impending conflict. Uriel's eyes held a mixture of dread and unspoken determination, as though he were preparing himself for the storm that was about to break upon their kingdom.
The king's hands trembled as he gripped the edge of the table.
"A crusade?" he whispered, his voice filled with anguish. "Why? We have kept our power hidden, never wielding it for harm. Why now? Why this war?"
"Because they believe it is their divine duty," Uriel replied. "Lady Lysandra has convinced them that the Aethereal Kin are an abomination. The Church sees your bloodline as a threat, one that must be eradicated to preserve their faith."
"We must act swiftly," King Arnault declared, his voice resolute despite the turmoil within. "We cannot allow this crusade to destroy Avaloria. Summon the generals. We must prepare for war."
As the kingdom's leaders scrambled to fortify their defenses, Geoffrey Aethoria watched from the shadows, a smug smile playing upon his lips. His scheme had borne fruit. The Church, consumed by righteous fury, would now march to war. The royal bloodline would be torn asunder by the very faith that once shielded them.
But Geoffrey knew the battle was far from over. The Church had made its move, but so would he. The throne of Avaloria would be his—no matter the cost.
The Crusade of Thaloria had begun. Flames of war would soon engulf the kingdom, and the secret of the Aethereal Kin—once a shadowy mystery—would now ignite Avaloria's descent into chaos.
As the Church rallied the nations, Avaloria's fate teetered on the brink. Would the royal family endure the storm, or would they be obliterated, their bloodline erased from history forever?