Mirage

"Do you dare to speak to me after what you've done?" Artonius's distinctive, deep voice resonated with charisma as he stepped forward, his red cloak billowing in the chilly night breeze. The moonlight shimmered off his polished armor, giving him an imposing presence.

"I know I made a grave mistake," Alorian, standing on his feet, felt a bit apprehensive as Artonius approached. His breath formed a mist in the cold air, and his fingers trembled as he clenched his fists. "I regret it."

"You made my wife bear a burden she should never have," without hesitation, he unsheathed his sword, a masterpiece of craftsmanship that seemed to radiate with its inner light, under the crescent moon's soft brilliance. "You're just a kid who couldn't even control his desires. You're the worst of the worst!"

"You have one mission to inherit the throne," he halted both his feet right in front of Alorian, who leaned back due to Artonius's imposing stature. The snow crunched beneath his armored boots. "To conquer the trials."

"But, Father, what if I couldn't do it?" Alorian replied, taking a step back, and his voice quivered in the frigid night air.

"The excuse of a weak man who hasn't even tried," Artonius retorted, his emerald eyes, identical to Alorian's, piercing into him. His stare seemed to cut through the winter chill, demanding an answer. "You are my son, you inherited my Prana, why do you doubt your strength?"

"Is it because of what the Obsidian Sage Order said?" he quickly pointed the blade directly at Alorian's face, the steel shimmering in the moonlight. "Since when have you become so easily influenced? Is your mind that soft?"

"Yet, success in the trials lies in how you react to all sorts of challenges," Artonius added, raising the sword above, its blade glinting menacingly. "If you're like this, how can you lead Caeloria?"

He slowly swung his weapon towards Alorian, who managed to evade it by leaping backward, landing in a pile of snow. Alorian's heart raced as Artonius nearly incapacitated him, leaving him stunned by the influential figure before him. The admired father figure now seemed to disappear in Alorian's eyes, shattered by his actions.

"You'll never succeed in those trials if you still distrust yourself, Alorian," Artonius walked back towards his son, who was sitting in the snow, his breath visible in the cold air. "Such a waste, I should listen to the Grandmother to not raise a child who is inconsequential."

Artonius, his face stern and unmoved, closed in on Alorian with the full weight of his imposing presence. Each step he took sent ripples through the thick layer of snow, emphasizing the gravity of the moment.

Desperation filled Alorian's eyes as he stammered, "Wait, Father! I can still make things right!" His voice trembled with regret as he extended a hand towards Artonius.

But Artonius remained settled. "It's too late, there's no use for you to still be alive, Alorian." He directed his sword toward his son, who could muster a feeble attempt to evade.

The blade sliced through the air, and Alorian's anguished cry pierced the night as his outstretched hand was severed, crimson blood contrasting starkly against the snow. The searing pain shattered his concentration, bringing him back to his senses.

Stunned, he teetered on the edge of the precipice, the roaring waterfall below threatening to swallow him. With frantic determination, Alorian fought to regain his balance, perched precariously on the rock, his mind a whirlwind of fear and uncertainty about his future.

"It seems you're not yet able to fight them," came the hoarse voice of Master Vedana, who had been observing the ordeal from the cliff's edge. His aged face was a study of calm resolve under the moonlight. "You're still shrouded in regret and crippled by the fear of failure."

Alorian could not control his racing heart, looked at his mentor, and implored, "Master, what should I do?"

"Face your fear with utmost resilience." Master Vedana advised, his eyes closed as he continued to meditate.

Alorian bowed his head, his breath visible in the frigid atmosphere as he contemplated his options. Artonius's words echoed in his mind, and the seriousness of his situation weighed heavily on his shoulders.

"Fear is like a mirage," Master Vedana continued, his voice soothing and filled with wisdom. "If you avoid it, it will always be there. But if you confront it, it will vanish."

"Confront your fear, Alorian, and you will discover the truth you seek," the old man turned his gaze toward Alorian, his eyes twinkling with the assurance of a seasoned mentor.

Alorian mustered all his courage and determination to confront the haunting dread that had afflicted his mind. With unwavering resolve, he declared, "Very well, Master, I will strive to face my fear."

Once again, he closed his eyes, taking deep, rhythmic breaths as he prepared to delve deep into his subconscious. His skin felt cold, his exhaled breaths visible in the air, and the gentle snowflakes drifted down from the heavens, creating an ethereal atmosphere that was starkly different from before.

The moon, once timid, now stood proudly in the night sky. Its crescent glow illuminated the area around Alorian, casting an enchanting radiance, particularly on the silhouette of the man standing before him, his sword already in hand.

The circular hand shield took form, and for some reason, Artonius felt different this time. Alorian's perspective revealed that his father was now exuding an immensely powerful Prana, resonating in all directions with profound intensity.

Though Alorian's heart raced faster than ever, he rose from his seated position, drawing the sword that had been buried before him. This was the moment of reckoning. The young man had to conquer his nervousness, no matter how daunting it seemed.

"Show me your abilities," Artonius's voice echoed from the distance. "If you are worthy of the throne of Caeloria."

Artonius advanced, his steps gradually quickening, catching Alorian off guard. His hands trembled violently as he held the sword identical to Artonius's, feeling its weight and strength.

At a moment when he had struggled to catch his breath, a gentle voice emanated from behind Alorian. It was a voice he knew well, one that had always comforted him, even in the darkest of times.

"Stand!" the woman's voice sounded like a melodic whisper in Alorian's ears, and he turned to find Althea, her hair white as snow billowed in the wind. "Rise, Alorian."

Her encouragement instilled newfound confidence in Alorian. He furrowed his brow, reaffirmed his determination, and turned back to confront his fear and remorse.

"I beg forgiveness, Father," he steeled himself before sprinting toward Artonius, who was drawing nearer. "I will not abandon the quest to make things right."

"Because I," the two figures simultaneously began to swing their metal blades upward, both attacking together. "Refuse to repeat the same mistakes!"

As the two swords clashed, a powerful shockwave radiated in all directions, dispersing the thick snow with tremendous force and a deafening blast.

The swirling snowflakes became so densely packed that the surroundings became nearly invisible, leaving Alorian frozen in place, struggling to catch his breath. He couldn't discern the current situation, only beginning to hear peculiar sounds.

These sounds weren't of human origin; they were irregular and multiplying, seemingly emanating from all directions. Alorian realized that the snowflakes had transformed into dots of light, steadily increasing in number and filling his entire field of vision.

Before long, Alorian discerned the mysterious voices, which gradually became clear to him. They resembled the conversations of two individuals engaged in a heartfelt dialogue. The voices belonged to Amarta and Artonius.

Struggling to open his eyes, Alorian found himself fixated on Amarta's visage. Her beauty was accentuated as she braided her blonde hair to the side of her chest. Standing beside her was Artonius, engaged in interaction with Alorian, who was securely cradled in Amarta's tender arms.

In this moment, Alorian grasped the significance of these memories, cherished instances of familial unity that time had temporarily concealed. He was surprised by the sight of Artonius, who, unlike his usual commanding presence, appeared rather comical as he endeavored to amuse the infant Alorian.

"You know that our child cannot be compelled to follow Grandmother's order, don't you?" Amarta turned toward Artonius, her expression laden with maternal concern.

Artonius, the man with the formidable beard, shifted his attention to his wife. "Indeed, the trials should not be hastened."

"But she insists on Alorian to do the trials at the tender age of thirteen!" Amarta's voice raised as she pressed her husband to intervene. "Why won't you address this matter with Grandmother?"

Artonius sighed and responded, "It won't change the outcome if our child fails the trials at the age of fifteen."

Amarta appeared crestfallen, her eyes returning to Alorian nestled in her embrace. "Even your words echo those of Grandmother."

For some inexplicable reason, Artonius wore a smile, attempting to reassure Amarta by placing his hand gently on her left shoulder, drawing her into his caress. "But even if our child does not succeed, he still has the chance to better himself."

He extended his index finger toward Alorian, softly touching the child's tiny hand, his smile radiant with hope. "To become a better individual than before."

"It doesn't matter," Artonius continued, his face nuzzling Amarta's, both of them casting loving gazes upon their child. "You are forever our beloved son. Regardless of what the future holds, we are immensely proud of you."

"We love you, Alorian."

In this heartfelt remembrance, Alorian found the warmth of his parents' unconditional love and support, a source of strength that bolstered his resolve to redeem himself.