Beyond the Age of Ascendants

A Time Before Time 

Beyond the Age of Ascendants

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A low groan echoed through the chamber as a figure knelt, blood pooling around him. Every pulse sent a shock of pain radiating through his body, and he gritted his teeth against the agony. His trembling hand clawed desperately at the unforgiving stone floor, attempting to rise, yet it was a futile struggle. The relic thrust through his chest held him fast, its power an indomitable force he could not defy.

"WHY?!" he bellowed, his voice raw and strained, reverberating endlessly in the vast chamber. This place should not exist—a surreal entity woven into the very fabric of time, crafted for a singular, forbidden purpose.

"Oh? You're still alive?" The voice that responded was unsettlingly calm, almost playful, but it carried a predatory edge, hinting at the speaker's delight in his torment. A man cloaked in darkness stood far away, watching from the shadows. His face, obscured beneath the hood, was shrouded in mystery, yet his presence loomed large, suffocating the air in the room.

"YOU BASTARD! WHY DO YOU CONTINUE TO DO THIS?!" The kneeling man's fury was a palpable force, mingling with the blood that trickled from his lips. His golden hair, once vibrant, lay matted with dirt and sweat, yet it still shimmered defiantly in the dim light as his strength began to wane. Meanwhile, the man on the raised platform paused in his writing, quill pen hovering above the ancient tome he inscribed words into reality.

He turned slowly, fixing his gaze on the bloodied figure below. "You wouldn't understand," the cloaked man replied softly, the corners of his mouth curling slightly. "Your vision is too narrow. You have never tasted true agony."

The wounded man spat blood onto the ground, his rage intensifying. "SPARE ME YOUR EXCUSES! WHAT DO YOU HOPE TO GAIN BY DEFYING A GOD?!"

The cloaked figure's eyes narrowed, the amethyst glow piercing through the darkness of his hood. The air around them thickened, charged with an electric tension, as if even time held its breath. "Do you know what it feels like," he began, his voice imbued with a darkness that ran deeper than mere hatred, "to love endlessly? To endure through countless cycles, only to witness everything you cherish decay before your eyes? To be powerless while the world around you burns, trapped in an eternal spiral of torment?"

The wounded man blinked, confusion flickering across his features as pain coursed through him.

"Do you know," the cloaked figure continued, his voice growing more fervent, "what it is to be a puppet in someone else's game? To have your life, your very soul, twisted into something grotesque? I have lived it. Again and again. AND AGAIN AND AGAIN!"

With each repetition, the walls of the chamber trembled, reality itself rippling in response to his fury. Even the gods, seated upon their distant thrones, would have sensed the disturbance in this forsaken corner of existence.

The cloaked man tightened his grip around the quill, his eyes ablaze with a fierce intensity. "But no longer. I shall be a puppet no more."

Gasping for breath, the golden-haired man stammered, "What… what will you do?"

The cloaked figure's thin, humorless smile cut through the tension. "... Attain Freedom."

Before the wounded man could utter a word, the figure turned back to his tome, quill scratching against the pages with unsettling precision. Each stroke resonated with a power that seemed to reshape reality itself.

"No… no, you can't—" The kneeling man's eyes widened in dawning horror. "YOU CANNOT DO THIS! THIS IS MADNESS!"

"Madness?" the cloaked man whispered, a mere murmur that floated through the air. "No… I AM madness."

The wounded man's breath quickened, a wave of dread crashing over him.

Something… was terribly wrong.

Even the gods could feel it…

...something...

...abominable.

"What have you done?" he asked, his voice quaking with fear.

The cloaked man's smirk deepened. "A little twist here, a little adjustment there… and now, the play of fate begins."

---

Estacio. 

The Twilight Forest.

"This should be it," a soft, melodic voice disrupted the silence of the dense woods. A woman stood at the threshold of an impenetrable wall of trees, her blue hair fluttering like silk in the gentle breeze. Her deep blue eyes—clear and profound as the ocean's depths—scanned the area, searching for a presence only she could feel.

Her name was Elena.

Bathed in the faint moonlight, she appeared almost ethereal, a vision of beauty. Yet beneath that serene facade, a tempest raged within her heart. Memories—both sharp and sweet—washed over her like waves, relentless in their pursuit. She had searched for what felt like an eternity, desperate to find him.

To claim him for herself, before the others could.

But now? She remembered.

A mission lay before her.

"Why…" Elena whispered, her voice trembling as she gazed up at the sky. "Why must you carry this burden alone?"

Her thoughts drifted back to that fateful encounter, when Liliana, the priestess with hauntingly golden eyes, had shattered her illusions, forcing her to confront a truth she had long avoided.

"Tell me, Liliana… where is he?" Elena had pleaded, her voice quaking with a mixture of hope and desperation.

The priestess had smiled—a twisted, knowing smile. "Oh, Elena… you were always his favorite. To think you would lose your way… how disappointing."

Elena had bristled, anger bubbling to the surface. "How dare you?!" she had shouted, brandishing an ancient artifact she had hidden away, a weapon forged to challenge even the gods themselves.

Liliana's smile had not faltered. "Ah… you remember that," she had said, her gaze lingering on the artifact. "But it cannot harm me."

"Tell me where he is!" Elena had demanded, her patience fraying.

Then, with a voice as soft as a whisper, Liliana had delivered the words that shattered Elena's world. "Samoondra's Seal. Does that ring a bell?"

The moment those words fell, something deep within Elena had fractured. A piece of the puzzle, buried in the fog of her memories, suddenly crystallized. She had gasped, trembling as the weight of her forgotten past came crashing down.

"I… remember," Elena had whispered, her hands shaking as she beheld the artifact.

How had she forgotten something so crucial?

How could she have failed him?

Liliana's eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. "Hurry while you still can… Time is running out before 'it' begins."

Now, standing before the Twilight Forest, Elena clenched her fists, determination flooding her being. She had to find him. No matter the cost.

"Please," she whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks as she stepped into the encroaching darkness. "Even if I forget you… make me yours once more, just as before."

And with that, she vanished into the shadows, the forest consuming her whole.