When the Gods Fall, I Will Rise
Chapter 22: Ashes of Forgotten Kingdoms
The ember nestled within my chest radiated a faint warmth, pulsing in a rhythmic pattern that felt both eerie and familiar, almost like the heartbeat I had known all my life but distinctly different. It was as if I housed a second essence, a spirit intertwined with my own. Each breath I took resonated strangely, the air around me thickening with unspoken truths that felt as ancient as the earth itself. In the once-bustling Valley of Echoes, silence reigned, but this silence was pregnant with significance; it thrummed with a palpable energy, as if the very soil beneath my feet had awakened to acknowledge my presence. I was tethered to an inheritance cultivated long before the rise of nations, an echo from a time that lay cloaked in the dust of history's shadows.
Serenya's penetrating gaze met mine, her silver hair refracting the shimmer of starlight that filtered through the remnants of twilight. "The Valley has bestowed upon you its ember," she spoke softly, her voice imbued with an almost sacred reverence. "But remember, this is not merely a gift; you have embraced a fragment of what once existed, a shard of the First Fire itself. Comprehending its significance is crucial. Do you grasp what this means for you?"
I shook my head, feeling overwhelmed by the enormity of her words. The implications of her statement traveled through my mind like a storm, leaving me bewildered and desperate for clarity. "Then enlighten me. What was this place? The whispers I have heard, this trial I endured… they were more than mere mirages, weren't they?"
Her eyes swept across the sprawling expanse of the valley, where faint sparks lingered in the air, flickering like the dying glow of far-off stars. "Long before the Dynasties took hold of this world, long before the first grand temples honoring the gods were ever constructed, there existed the Primordial Kingdoms. Their rulers did not cast prayers upward to deities, nor did they draw power from ancestral bloodlines or sacred sects. They walked alongside fire itself, the pure, untamed flame of existence, a blaze that even the gods regarded with caution and fear."
Her revelation struck me like a bolt of lightning. "The Primordial Kingdoms…" I whispered. "So, the gods were not the architects of everything?"
A bitter smile flitted across her lips, bearing the weight of ancient grudges. "The gods are not creators. They consume, shape, and command the very fabric of reality to suit their needs. However, there existed a time when mortals, your ancestors, sauntered side by side with them, not as tributaries or servants, but as equals in the grand tapestry of existence. The Valley of Echoes, this hallowed ground we tread upon, was once a throne hall unlike any other, not built from cold marble or vibrant jade, but forged from fire and shadow, a crucible where the chosen few were tested, not as subservients but as potential equals to the divine."
I glanced downward at my chest, where the ember's glow pulsed faintly beneath the layers of skin and muscle. It was in that moment that I felt the weight of an entire history pressing upon me, more burdensome than the ethereal voices had ever been. "And now… this ember belongs to me?"
"No," Serenya interjected firmly, her expression hardening like steel. "It does not belong to you. You are but its bearer, not its master. Never mistake the ember for a crown; it is not something that confers dominion. It is a key, and keys… they seek doors."
Her somber warning hung in the air, a chilling breeze in stark contrast to the warmth radiating within me.
We resumed our journey through the valley, yet each step felt transformative, akin to delving deeper into the very marrow of the world. The terrain morphed subtly as we traversed it, ridges began to rise like petrified waves frozen mid-crash, rocks etched with veins of luminescent fire, remnants of ancient structures half-consumed by nature's relentless embrace. Dilapidated archways loomed like the skeletal remains of a long-slumbering colossus, adorned with symbols that evaded my comprehension. Nevertheless, they stirred something deep within me, an ache resonating in my bones, as if they whispered of times when I had known their secrets in dreams too distant to clearly recall.
At one juncture, we came upon an ancient brazier, now toppled and charred, its once-majestic surface inscribed with spirals and cryptic runes. A faint glow persisted within its cracked visage, and when I tentatively laid my hand upon the weathered stone, visions enveloped me: grand kingdoms bustling with fire-lit cities, towers stretching toward the heavens like molten spears, and people, mortals cloaked in flames, navigating their existence unafraid amidst beings whose magnificent wings blotted out the very sun itself.
I staggered backward, breath uneven, as the vision seared itself in my mind before dissipating into shadows.
"You witnessed it, didn't you?" Serenya said, a knowing glint in her eyes. "The echoes of what once was reverberate through every facet of this valley. Each ember, every stone, carries within it a memory of ages past. That is why the whispers sought to claim you; they are not simply ethereal voices, they are the remnants of those who bore the flame long before you. Some were triumphant, while many met tragic ends."
I clenched my fists tightly, struggling to regain my composure. "If they wielded such immense power, how did they ultimately fall?"
For the very first time in my life, Serenya exhibited a moment of hesitation. Her usually steady and commanding voice lowered to a near-whisper, carrying an ominous weight that felt like the air before a storm. "They did not simply fall from their grace. They were unmade," she asserted, her words laden with a profound gravity. "The gods could not allow us mere mortals to ever rival their power. So, in their desperation, they crafted elaborate lies that ensnared our ancestors, constructed grand temples in their honor, and buried the truth beneath a tide of blood and an oppressive silence. What little truth remains of our existence is here, entombed beneath centuries of ash."
Her haunting words ignited a wildfire of emotions within me, a chaotic storm of raw and unrefined fury. It was incomprehensible to think that the gods I had once regarded as distant tyrants, the very beings I had dared to curse and scorn from a place of unearned contempt, had not merely ruled over us but had actively orchestrated the theft and erasure of an entire legacy. They had stripped away our history to such an extent that even the act of remembering had become a perilous endeavor. My path was no longer just a solitary journey; it had become inexorably intertwined with those who had walked before me, those who had bravely challenged the divine order and had, for their audacity, been mercilessly obliterated from existence.
As we emerged from the jagged ridges and cliffs that had constrained our movement, we found ourselves standing on a wide, desolate plateau. Before us, the verdant valley fell away, revealing a vast expanse of blackened stone, fractured and veined with glowing fissures that pulsed with an otherworldly luminescence. The air around us shimmered with a faint, ethereal glow, thick with an energy that buzzed against my skin, electrifying every nerve.
Serenya, ever vigilant, brushed her hand against the hilt of her blade, a gesture that spoke volumes about her readiness for whatever lay ahead. Her gaze swept across the horizon, taking in the daunting landscape. "This is the very edge of the Valley," she declared, her voice steady yet tinged with an underlying tension. "Beyond this point lies the Wastes of Mourning, a desolate realm that few have dared to enter. Those who venture into its depths rarely find their way back. But if you intend to claim the path before us, you must cross it and face whatever lies beyond."
Her grim pronouncement hung heavily in the air like a thick fog, laden with unyielding truth and foreboding promise. Yet amidst this dark anticipation, an ember ignited within me once more, a steady, unquenchable flame, as though it were answering the unspoken challenge lodged firmly in Serenya's words.
I stood there, looking out over the glowing fissures and the enveloping darkness, and rather than fear, I felt a surge of unwavering resolve rising within me. If the gods had been ruthless enough to steal our history, erasing all who had fought to preserve it, then I would reclaim our narrative from the very bones of those who had done us wrong. I would delve into the shadows of their misdeeds, seeking to resurrect the truth that had been buried and forgotten.
And I vowed then to forge ahead, unyielding, until the flame they had tried so desperately to extinguish burned brighter than the heavens themselves, illuminating our shared past for all to see and making them quake in their divine thrones.
To be continued…