Arrival at Thal'Nora
Elior sat cross-legged, eyes closed, his breath deep and steady as the glowing mist of the realm drifted past him like slow-moving stars. When he finally opened his eyes, his voice was soft, curious.
"How long have we been traveling, Seraphis?"
The winged beast's glowing eyes shimmered with calm.
"An hour has passed. Thal'Nora lies just beyond. Another half-hour more."
They pressed on, lightless wind howling past them like whispers of forgotten souls. Soon, they stood before a towering obsidian gate carved with ancient glyphs—The Gates of Shadows.
As they passed through, everything changed.
Elior gasped. His body vanished. He looked down—there was nothing. Only shadow. He floated, translucent, a being of pure perception.
"I… I can't feel my body. What is this?" he asked.
Seraphis's voice echoed, ethereal.
"This is the Realm of Shadows. Here, you are but a soul. You see, but do not touch. You speak, but feel no weight."
They moved like drifting smoke through the shadow realm until they reached a glowing tunnel. At its entrance was a golden gate. Seraphis raised his head and spoke a command in an ancient tongue. The gate opened with a thunderous groan.
They passed through the tunnel. Then light—blinding and warm—exploded from the other side. Elior shielded his eyes.
When he opened them, he gasped.
Before them lay Thal'Nora, the City of Gold. Endless towers, each forged from luminous gold, shimmered beneath a sky painted with gentle pink clouds and silver birds. It was breathtaking.
"By the stars…" Elior whispered. "This… this is the most beautiful place I've ever seen."
Seraphis nodded.
"This is Thal'Nora, the jewel of the ancients. Every building you see is cast from the purest gold. A city untouched by time."
As Elior took a step forward, he noticed his hands—his body. It had changed. His skin now glowed faintly, and his garments were radiant, regal. Even Seraphis and Emberlum glowed with ethereal beauty.
He stood in awe, speechless, until a thunderous sound rolled across the golden plains.
"What was that?" Elior asked.
"It comes from the Feast Grounds," Seraphis replied. "They are holding a welcome feast… for you."
Elior's eyes widened. "For me?"
As they approached the celebration, a sea of golden beings filled the grand plaza. A radiant king and queen sat upon high thrones, surrounded by princes and princesses of ancient bloodlines. The moment Elior stepped into view, the crowd stood in unison.
"All hail Elior, descendant of Lioran, bearer of the Sacred Staff, the one anointed to deliver Thal'Nora!"
Golden petals fell like snow, and from among the crowd emerged robed figures in masks of crystal and gold. They recited a poem, their voices harmonizing like a sacred choir:
"Hail, Elior of Thal'Nora"
In twilight's hush, when stars did sigh,
And winds wept low o'er Thal'Nora's sky,
A name was carved in fate's deep core—
Elior, born of myth and more…
...Breaker of the bond that pain sustained,
From gate to gate, through ash and lore,
He walks where none have gone before…
Trumpets sounded, celestial and proud. Elior turned to Seraphis, overwhelmed.
"Why… why are they honoring me like this? I don't know them. I'm no hero."
Seraphis smiled gently.
"Over a century has passed since your grandfather, Lioran, vanished. Prophecy held that he would be preserved until the next bearer touched the Sacred Staff. When you did, signs were sent to Thal'Nora—flames, thunder, and a golden globe that revealed where Lioran's body rested, awaiting your arrival."
Elior swallowed hard. "Can I… see this globe?"
"Not yet," Seraphis said. "Only on the third day of your arrival."
They continued their walk, approaching a majestic altar with five towering steps. On each step, ancient inscriptions burned with sacred light.
Elior paused.
"What are these steps?"
Seraphis bowed low. "This is the Altar of Ascension. Each stage is sacred. The first is the Sanctum of the First Flame. Only the Sacred Staff bearer may climb to the top."
Elior looked at the first stage. There stood motionless elders, each holding brown staffs. They looked like statues—but their skin was warm with life.
"Are they alive?"
"They are the Terran Sages," Seraphis replied. "Guardians of flame. They've been sleeping for a century—waiting for you."
Elior stepped forward.
"Then this is where we part."
Seraphis bowed. "Until your return."
A deep bell rang from the altar's summit. A voice thundered across the city:
"Let the bearer ascend!"
Elior stepped onto the first stage—and fire burst forth. The Terran Sages awoke, their eyes glowing red, flames rising from their skin.
"All hail Elior," they cried, "the one who awakens us!"
The ground trembled with the sound of their staffs striking in rhythm. The flames rose, encircling Elior—but he felt no heat. Only warmth. Power. Legacy.
He looked ahead. The second step: Lumenfold.
A ribbon of sacred light unfurled. As he touched it, a whisper echoed from the light. Then a voice—clear and desperate:
"Elior… son of Ashlor… help me…"
A small creature stepped out of the light—a golden monkey with glowing eyes and a voice like silver bells.
"I am Chippa. I served your grandfather… and I will serve you."
Elior knelt.
"Tell me… tell me about Lioran."
Vision of Lioran
The vision shimmered. A towering figure appeared—Lioran, bathed in celestial fire.
Silver hair whipped in the wind. Glowing runes covered his arms and neck, his cloak woven from constellations. His eyes were suns. His staff floated beside him, alive with storm and flame.
When he spoke, it was like time itself bowed.
He was memory made flesh. A god among warriors. A legend.
Back at the altar, Chippa danced in joy.
"You are his echo! His heir!"
Elior nodded with reverence. He climbed to the third stage: The Hollow Sanctum, silent and sacred. Then the fourth: Solara, filled with radiant flowers.
Finally, the fifth: Crown of the Eternal Flame.
As he stood atop the altar, a great flame surged from his body—spiraling into the sky, engulfing him in fire. It swept down, lifting Chippa, wrapping them both in light. They floated, descending like stars.
Below, the crowd erupted in awe.
But waiting for them were creatures from beyond imagination. Beings with eyes all over—the Oculon. Others with three legs—Triskarion. And those with many arms—the Arkanthra. They were human… yet not.
They approached, kneeling, then gently escorted Elior and his companions to the Sanctum Room of the Sacred Flame.
All, except Seraphis.
As the golden doors closed behind them, silence fell.
The world was watching. Destiny was waiting.