The cliffside path leading to Aerthas narrowed as Drakar and his companions pressed forward. The air felt thinner here, heavy with an unseen presence. The fortress was now close enough that they could see the faint shimmer of protective wards along the towering walls—like ripples on a still pond disturbed by an invisible hand.
Kaelen adjusted his quiver and gave a low whistle. "Even the sky feels tense. If we're walking into a council of war, they're already expecting trouble."
Seris slowed her steed until she was riding beside Drakar. Her silver hair caught the early afternoon sun like threads of moonlight. "It's not just the council's anxiety. Aerthas has always been cautious of outsiders—especially those who show signs of power they don't understand."
Drakar's emberlit eyes flickered. "And what do they understand?"
Seris's gaze shifted, thoughtful. "They have their own scale—a way of measuring strength and mastery. It's more than just raw power; it's about resonance and control."
Taronis, riding ahead, nodded without looking back. "I've heard of their ranking system. Warriors of Aerthas believe strength is divided into stages, each one marking a deeper connection to the world's essence." He glanced at Drakar. "You're approaching a realm that even seasoned warlords rarely reach."
Drakar's brow furrowed. A new realm? He'd noticed changes since the Bastion's trial—his strikes left imprints of flame that burned long after the initial blow, and the air around him seemed to hum when his focus sharpened. But he hadn't realized what it meant.
Seris's voice softened, as though she sensed his doubt. "Some warriors fight their whole lives and never step beyond embodiment. But when someone manifests their power outwardly... the world takes notice."
Kaelen snorted, breaking the tension. "Great. More people watching us."
Drakar gave a faint smile but remained quiet. The idea of progressing into something more wasn't what weighed on him—it was what came after. Power didn't just draw awe; it drew challenge.
The Gates of Aerthas
The great gates of Aerthas loomed ahead, their black iron surface engraved with spiraling runes of protection. Guards clad in silver armor flanked the entrance, their halberds gleaming. The moment the group approached, the runes pulsed with a faint blue glow.
One of the guards, a broad-shouldered man with a stern face, stepped forward. "State your purpose."
Seris dismounted and addressed the guards with authority. "Envoy Seris Lior, returning with news from the Bastion of Eryndral." She gestured to Drakar and the others. "These are my companions—restorers of the Veil's Heart."
The guard's expression shifted slightly—a flicker of curiosity mixed with uncertainty. His gaze settled on Drakar's tattoos, the faint ember glow beneath his skin betraying a strength that most would not expect from an orc.
"You... restored the Veil?" The guard's tone was cautious.
Drakar nodded. "We did." His voice was calm but carried a subtle weight.
The guard hesitated for a moment before stepping aside. "Welcome to Aerthas. The council awaits."
The gates groaned open, revealing a wide courtyard lined with banners bearing the crescent-blade sigil of the kingdom. Soldiers trained in pairs along the perimeter, their movements precise and controlled. Each strike seemed to resonate with an unseen rhythm, as if the very earth pulsed beneath their feet.
Kaelen observed the training soldiers with interest. "They move differently. Almost like they're... in tune with something."
Seris nodded. "Aerthas teaches its warriors to harmonize with the world around them. A warrior who reaches the Manifestation Realm can make the battlefield feel like an extension of their own body."
Taronis's gaze remained sharp. "And how many of them have reached that realm?"
Seris's expression turned solemn. "Not enough."
The Hall of Reckoning
The companions followed Seris through the courtyard and into the fortress itself. The interior was vast and adorned with crystalline sconces that cast soft starlight patterns on the walls. The air was cool but charged with latent energy.
They entered a grand hall where a crescent-shaped table stood beneath a dome of crystal. The High Council sat in their appointed places, clad in ceremonial mantles of gold, silver, and crimson. At the center sat High Chancellor Lythera, her silver hair flowing over her shoulders like a river of moonlight.
Lythera rose as they entered. "Seris Lior, you return to us." Her eyes moved to Drakar. "And you bring... the bearer of the Heart."
Drakar stepped forward, meeting her gaze. "I am Drakar Vorn."
Lythera studied him for a long moment before speaking. "The restoration of the Veil has sent ripples through the world. We have felt it here." Her gaze softened slightly. "And we know the burden it places on those who bear its light."
Drakar's tattoos pulsed briefly as if in response. He glanced down at his hands, then back at Lythera. "We didn't come for praise. We came for truth—and for answers."
A councilor wearing a crimson mantle leaned forward. "And yet the truth is often heavier than the blade." His voice was low and measured. "Tell me, Drakar Vorn—do you know what it means to step into the Ascension Realm?"
The room grew still. Drakar's eyes narrowed. "I've felt it. But I don't know the full truth."
The councilor nodded. "Then you should learn it." He gestured to a mural etched into the wall behind them—a depiction of warriors surrounded by stormlight and fire. "The Ascension Realm isn't just power—it's resonance. When you ascend, the world listens. But it also judges."
Kaelen crossed his arms. "Judges? Like we haven't been judged enough."
The councilor's gaze remained steady. "Only those who earn the right can command such strength without losing themselves."
Lythera stepped forward. "And that is why you're here. Aerthas stands on the edge of war, and the Dral'Thar stir once more. If you cannot master the realm you've entered, you will not survive what's coming."
Drakar's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "Then tell me how."
Lythera's eyes gleamed. "First, you must understand what it means to bind yourself not only to strength but to purpose