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> "Some truths are sealed not to be forgotten, but to prevent their waking. To break the seal is to accept the price of memory."
> — Words of the Black Quill Scholars
>
The iron chains on the ancient scroll groaned as Master Elara carefully unfastened them, a sound like a distant, mournful sigh. The air in the Elder Archives seemed to grow heavier, thick with unspoken secrets. As the scroll slowly unrolled, releasing centuries of trapped dust, Ash felt the obsidian shard in his chest pulse with a frantic rhythm, a mix of apprehension and eager hunger. The faint, silvery glow from the Veiled Pathway seemed to dim, as if even the light was holding its breath.
The scroll itself was not made of parchment, but of a dark, thin material that felt like incredibly old, dried skin. Ancient, angular script, unlike anything Ash had seen before, covered its surface. It didn't glow like the symbols on the pathway, but seemed to absorb the light around it, making the words appear to shimmer with a deep, internal darkness.
Elara adjusted his spectacles, his eyes tracing the lines of the text. "This is the Chronicle of the Shadowed Hand," he murmured, his voice hushed. "It purports to be an eyewitness account of the Sundering, written by a scribe who witnessed the event firsthand from within the Crown's own domain." His frail fingers trembled slightly as he pointed to the opening lines. "It speaks of a betrayal, just as you saw, Ash."
Kael leaned closer, his brow furrowed. "What does it say, old man? Speak plainly."
Elara began to translate, his voice gaining a quiet power as he read the ancient words:
"...and the golden city, called Aethelburg, pulsed with the heartbeat of the Dominion. For ages untold, the Crown, in its perfect unity, brought forth balance to the realms. Its light was the sun, its will the tide, its breath the very air that Aerthos drew. The Prime Bearer, crowned by its brilliance, guided all with wisdom and unwavering hand. Peace was the song, harmony the eternal truth."
Ash felt a phantom echo of that harmony. The vision of the radiant being and the perfect golden city flashed in his mind. The shard in his chest resonated with Elara's words, a deep, mournful thrum that echoed the ancient peace.
Elara paused, taking a slow, shaky breath. "Then, the tone changes. It speaks of a discord." He continued:
"But a shadow stirred, not from without, but from within the very heart of the Dominion's council. Lord Valerius, a trusted advisor, whose lineage was ancient and whose ambition burned colder than any star. He spoke of faster paths, of true 'order' through control, not balance. He whispered dissent, gathering those whose hearts craved more than harmony. And he sought to twist the Crown's purpose, to make it an instrument of singular will, rather than universal song."
The name hit Ash like a physical blow. Valerius. The same name as the Captain hunting him. He gasped, looking at the others. Could it be? A chilling connection across millennia.
Kael stiffened. "Valerius? My family name. My ancestors served the King for generations. This... this is slander!" His hand instinctively went to his sword hilt, a vein throbbing in his neck.
Selene's twilight eyes narrowed, fixed on the old scholar. "The same lineage? It is a common enough name, Kael."
"A powerful one," Elara countered, his gaze firm. "A name that has echoed through the ages. Many noble houses claim descent from the figures of the Crown's era. But few carry such a direct, singular ambition through history." He looked at Ash. "The face you saw, boy. Was it like his descendant outside these walls? The Captain?"
Ash tried to remember, desperately. He pictured Captain Valerius's stern, determined face, then tried to overlay it with the malicious face from his vision. There was a similarity, a cold, sharp angle to the jaw, a piercing quality to the eyes. Not identical, but a disturbing resemblance that sent a shiver down his spine. "Maybe," he whispered, feeling a wave of nausea. "It... it could be."
"This is madness!" Kael retorted, shaking his head. "My family is loyal! My ancestors were honorable!"
"Loyalty can be a heavy chain, Knight," Selene said, her voice soft but sharp. "And honor is often sculpted by the victors. If this chronicle is true, then your ancestor betrayed the Crown itself, not just a king."
Elara continued reading, his voice now lower, filled with the gravitas of ancient tragedy:
"On the Day of the Great Conjunction, when the Ley Lines pulsed with utmost power, Lord Valerius, in an act of profound treachery, seized the Prime Bearer's Crown. His ambition, not true dominion, but a twisted echo of it, sought to dominate the Crown's very essence. He wielded a fragment of shadow, a corrupted Ley Key, born of forbidden rituals, and struck the Crown. Not to shatter it, but to remake it in his own image, to force its universal song into a single, controlling note. But the Crown, in its agony, resisted. Its essence, pushed beyond endurance, recoiled. And in that catastrophic recoil, the Dominion shattered into countless shards, screaming its pain across the realms, tearing the fabric of Aerthos itself. Lord Valerius survived, but his triumph turned to ash. His dream of ultimate control birthed only chaos. And the age of the Shattered Crown began."
The final words hung in the air, a profound silence broken only by Ash's ragged breath. He stared at the ancient script, the implications crashing down on him. The Sundering wasn't an accident. It was an act of a single, ambitious man. A Lord Valerius. And the current Captain Valerius, the one hunting him, was his descendant. He wasn't just chasing a boy with a shard; he was unknowingly continuing a millennia-old family legacy, ironically trying to suppress the very power his ancestor had shattered.
"A corrupted Ley Key," Selene murmured, her eyes distant, already piecing together the implications. "A tool of unimaginable power... that could force the Crown's will."
Kael stood frozen, his face ashen. The honor of his ancestors, the foundation of his entire life, was being ripped away by words on an ancient scroll. His family's name, not a symbol of unwavering loyalty to the Crown, but of its greatest betrayal.
Ash felt the cold, triumphant malice of the face from his vision return, now clearer than before. It wasn't just a face; it was a lineage. A curse. The Crown's pain, its desire to be whole, took on a new, terrifying meaning. It wasn't just seeking to reform itself; it was seeking justice. And he, Ash, was now deeply entangled in its ancient, bloody quest.
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