Chapter 51 – The Door That Was Never Opened
The sky looked fractured. But now, the fractures were no longer just glowing lines. The sky revealed a whirl, a spiral that turned into a vortex, as if it were swallowing the night itself.
Enver and the Seven Council stood atop the tower, their bodies acting as anchors for a world beginning to lose its shape. Below them, the wind twisted like an inverted sea current, carrying rubble, dust, and even fragments of dreams from those who were asleep.
Then came the sound—the first strike.
Not thunder, not an explosion. But as if a hammer was pounding against the wall of reality from the other side.
Ysera flinched, her hands trembling, the blue light fading.
"He's striking it—either to enter, or to destroy it."
Saelmir closed his eyes tighter, straining to hear what the others could not.
"…It's not one, but two voices behind the door."
Dorvas gritted his teeth. "That means—"
"Elarion," Enver cut in.
All eyes turned to him. His voice carried no hesitation, no joy. That name itself was a thin blade, sharp enough to wound anyone who heard it.
The Seven Council looked at one another. Impossible. Elarion was long dead—thousands of years ago—his very body erased as if a written word struck from existence. Gone without a trace. All they knew was that Elarion's power was sealed in Prufen, within a hidden chamber.
Kavdrin's scales suddenly glowed crimson on both sides.
"This balance cannot exist… Two forces from the dawn of creation colliding. If we let this door fully open…"
"…then not only the human world will be destroyed," Elhara continued, her voice quivering. "Even the heavens will collapse within mere seconds."
The fracture widened. Light and darkness fused, swirling into a vortex no words or colors could describe. From within, a colossal shadow emerged—not a body, not a face, but a presence greater than mountains, older than time. He was Maxcen.
He did not fully manifest. Part of him remained trapped in the realm where he and Elarion had slain each other for the hundred-thousandth time. But his gaze—two hollow abysses without end—pierced across dimensions, fixed on the tower where Enver and the Council stood.
"Interesting…" His voice rippled like water in the ear, yet every syllable pressed weight upon the bones. "Your world still struggles to endure."
Noveras raised his spiral flame high, towering as tall as the tower itself.
"Stay where you are, Maxcen! One more step, and—"
Maxcen's laughter severed the threat.
"And what? You'll close this door? You know well—it wasn't me who opened it. The door opened… because it wanted to. It opened by itself."
Dorvas swung his chains, releasing waves of force to seal the vortex. Yet the waves shattered before touching it, like tides breaking against a mountain.
Behind Maxcen, a sudden burst of light flared. Not ordinary light—this one carried form, carried a presence unforgettable to anyone who had ever heard his name.
Yes, it was Elarion.
But his figure was not fully human. Half his body was flesh and radiance, the other half like crumbling stone, collapsing and rebuilding in the same breath.
His gaze swept toward Maxcen, then to the fracture linking their realm to the mortal world. He knew. He felt it. Their endless battle had bled into every boundary.
"Elarion…" Enver's whisper was almost inaudible.
But Maxcen still spoke, his tone as cold as a frozen blade.
"Let's continue, Elarion. If their world falls… I shall reshape it. In my way. By my hand."
Elarion did not answer. His eyes reflected countless dead stars, yet within them, one flame still burned. That flame was not for Maxcen—it was for the world, unaware it was on the brink of being gambled away.
Then came the second strike.
The earth quaked, the tower groaned. Air itself turned into water, and all who breathed tasted iron and ash upon their tongues.
Miredan lifted the fractured black moon above his head, his voice piercing the vortex:
"Hold them back! One more second, and this dimension will collapse!"
But Enver knew… one second might already be too long.
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