Chapter 20: Echoes of the Past

The sunlight filtering through the dense canopy of ancient trees was almost blinding after the oppressive darkness of the Veil. Azarion squinted, his hand instinctively tightening around the Shard of Destiny as he scanned their new surroundings. The forest was alive with sound—the rustling of leaves in the wind, the chirping of unseen birds, and the occasional distant growl of some unseen beast.

Sera took a deep breath, letting the fresh air fill her lungs. "This feels... different," she said, her voice softer than usual.

"Peaceful," Azarion replied, though his tone carried a hint of unease.

They walked cautiously, the soft forest floor muffling their footsteps. The air was warm, the scent of earth and blooming flowers filling the air. Despite the tranquil environment, both of them remained on edge.

"It doesn't feel like a coincidence," Sera said after a while. "The portal... leading us here. It feels deliberate."

Azarion nodded. "It does. Almost like someone—or something—wanted us to find this place."

As they continued deeper into the forest, they came upon a clearing. At its center stood a massive, ancient tree, its trunk twisted and gnarled with age. Its roots stretched out like massive tendrils, carving deep furrows into the earth.

The tree seemed to pulse faintly with energy, its golden leaves shimmering as though caught in an invisible breeze. Beneath its shadow lay a stone altar, worn with time but unmistakably crafted by skilled hands. Strange runes were etched into its surface, glowing faintly as Azarion and Sera approached.

"This tree…" Sera whispered, her voice reverent. "It's ancient. Older than anything I've ever seen."

Azarion approached the altar cautiously, his eyes scanning the runes. They seemed familiar, as though echoing a memory just out of reach. The shard in his hand began to vibrate slightly, reacting to the altar's energy.

"Do you feel that?" Azarion asked, glancing at Sera.

She nodded, her hand on her bow. "It's the same energy as the shard. What do you think it means?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "But I think this place was meant for us."

As he placed the shard on the altar, the runes flared to life, casting the clearing in an ethereal golden glow. A low hum filled the air, and the tree above them began to pulse in rhythm with the shard's energy.

Sera stepped back, her bow drawn, as the ground beneath the altar trembled. The glow intensified, and a figure began to take shape above the altar.

It was a ghostly image of a man, cloaked in shimmering golden light. His features were obscured, but his voice was clear and commanding.

"Bearer of the Shard," the figure intoned, its voice resonating through the clearing. "You have awakened the power of the Eternal Flame. But with great power comes great peril."

Azarion straightened, his hand instinctively hovering near the shard. "Who are you? Why have you brought us here?"

The figure's gaze seemed to pierce through him. "I am but a remnant of what was—a guardian of the old ways. This place is a fragment of the past, a sanctuary for those who seek the truth. But beware, for truth is often more dangerous than lies."

Sera stepped forward, her eyes narrowing. "Why did the shard bring us here? What are we supposed to do?"

The figure turned to her, its tone softening. "The shard chose him because he carries the will to forge a new path. But the path ahead is treacherous. The Eternal Flame will grant you strength, but it will also test your resolve. Only those who remain unbroken can wield its power."

Azarion clenched his fists. "What do I need to do?"

The figure raised a hand, pointing to the massive tree. "The Flame lies dormant within the Heart of Eternity. Awaken it, and your path will become clear. But be warned: awakening the Flame will draw the attention of those who seek to extinguish it."

The figure began to fade, its light dimming. "The choice is yours, bearer. Will you risk everything to fulfill your destiny, or will you let the Eternal Flame fade into oblivion?"

As the figure disappeared, the glow of the runes and the altar faded, leaving the clearing in silence once more.

Sera looked at Azarion, her expression serious. "Awakening the Flame… it doesn't sound like something we can take lightly."

Azarion nodded, his eyes fixed on the ancient tree. "No, it doesn't. But if this is the only way forward, we don't have a choice."

Sera frowned. "We always have a choice. Just make sure this one doesn't cost us everything."

Azarion didn't reply. Instead, he stepped closer to the tree, his hand resting against its ancient bark. A faint warmth emanated from it, pulsing in time with the shard's energy.

"We're not alone here," Azarion said suddenly, his voice low.

Sera stiffened, her hand reaching for an arrow. "What do you mean?"

Before Azarion could answer, the clearing was filled with the sound of footsteps—heavy, deliberate, and drawing closer. Shadows emerged from the trees, their forms humanoid but wrong, their glowing red eyes fixed on the shard in Azarion's hand.

Sera raised her bow, her voice tense. "Looks like they found us."

Azarion turned to face the oncoming threat, his grip tightening on the shard. The energy within it began to surge, resonating with the tree and the runes beneath their feet.

"Then we'll make our stand here," he said, his voice steady. "No matter what it takes."