Omega's Rebirth-Chapter 811: Coming Of The Forlorn ()

The calm serenity of Aloria was shattered when a violent tremor shook the earth. The trees trembled and bowed, the ground quivered and birds took flight.

Blinding lights flashed haphazardly. Portals, hundreds of them, opened at random.

But there were thousands of Fae in Aloria. How much time would they have?

Then came the sound. A long, low moan echoed, like an ancient cry from the belly of the earth. Neveah heard it as surely as she saw it, the already cracked earth split open even further, the earth caved, sinking into the abyss wherever the crack touched.

A wave of dust and debris rose many feet into the air. It was like watching the breaking happen all over again. Only this time, it carried twice the force.

The crack was still spreading rapidly. It split rock and root mercilessly, carving a path straight for Aloria. With the force, it would reach the inner barrier within moments and when it did, nothing would hold. It would rip through the barrier with no difficulty.

Somewhere below, she heard Keila’s cry. It was hollow, trembling... bittersweet.

Because she knew,

They all did.

Aloria. The stronghold of the Fae legacy, was about to fall. Not by the hands of dragons, not by an onslaught of flames.

No. It would fall with a slow, aching crumble. Swallowed by an abyss that did not care what was lost.

At any moment now, they would watch Aloria obliterated... vanish, as though it had never been.

Beoruh’s intent was crystal clear. The stronghold...every part of it would be rendered ruins more devastating than the dark lands.

And it would begin with Aloria.

Until it was all gone... until there was nothing left.

Down below, Lord Fintan, Lord João and dozens of Fae spell casters, council men and spirit beasts lined the inner barrier. They were the finest of the Fae. They wove powerful spells, the final ward Aloria could afford.

They didn’t have a light hall. They didn’t have a quatrefoil or thousands of channelling gems to amplify their magic. They only had raw nature magic, and the desperate will to protect the forest.

If they fell, Aloria would too.

If they allowed Aloria to fall. Hundreds of Fae would be taken down with it. And if the darkness claimed even one victory, everything else would soon follow.

Jian dove downward. Neveah knew what she had to do.

"Be safe, beloved." He banked overhead the inner barrier.

Neveah leaped off. She didn’t wait for instruction or permission. There was none coming. The abyss would claim the forest at any second.

She landed hard near the inner barrier, knees crunching against stone. Lord Fintan turned, startled.

Lord João’s spell wavered.

"Arcane is the source where all magic meets." She said, moving to stand a few steps ahead of them. "Aloria has been home to it for centuries beyond remembering. It is a dishonour to dragon dynasty...if it falls today."

The crack was still tearing its way toward them. The ground beneath their feet had begun to buckle.

Neveah raised her hands. She didn’t tap into Demevirld as she usually would. Instead, she reached out. Drawing from all that was beyond, like Demevirld had taught.

Arcane surged in response.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t polite. It surged like a dam finally broken. Her limbs trembled under the force, her chest tight as if something was trying to split it open from the inside. But she didn’t resist. She let it come. All of it.

The Fae fell silent around her.

Then, one by one, they turned toward the crack. Not in confusion, but understanding and determination.

She was no Fae by blood, but she commanded the Arcane and she was the only one the forest was listening to.

"Cast into her," João yelled out, spinning his spell so the magic poured into Neveah.

The others followed. Hundreds of hands lifted. Hundreds of spell cast. Magic, raw unrefined, but potent, surged into her veins, leaving a burning trail.

Neveah hissed. It was excruciating. It was chaos. Voices screamed inside her head, languages layered over each other. The ground was a blur. Her eyes watered and glowed. Her canines elongated, fur lining her neck.

The tips of her golden strands turned a tint of midnight blue, and black at the very ends. Her feet sank an inch into stone, and she clenched her jaw until her teeth ached. Until she bled from the sharpness of her own canines.

But she held on.

She held on with everything in her.

The crack surged forward.

Neveah lifted both palms, shouted a word in a language she didn’t remember learning, and met it.

A shockwave of magic burst out from her body. Fintan stumbled. The front line of Fae behind her were tossed off their feet from the sheer force. The earth beneath her feet froze, not from cold, but from the pressure she exerted. Pure, immovable pressure.

The crack shuddered. It split one last tree...

And then stopped.

For the first time in minutes, Aloria went silent.

Neveah dropped to one knee. Her breathing was ragged. Arcane still spun inside her, angry and alive, but it was no longer out of control. She had it.

Barely...but she did.

She looked up.

A good number of the Fae were still standing, still casting their spells to hinder the flying boulders and debris, but their eyes were on her now.

With something Neveah could only conclude was respect. But she didn’t need their respect... she didn’t need anything from the Fae, really.

Fintan stepped forward first, pressing a hand to his chest in a formal bow. The rest of the Fae followed.

Neveah didn’t say a word. Her arms were trembling. Her heart was hammering. Blood trailed down the sides of her lips.

The silence didn’t last. A distant sound of rushing water fractured it. Aloria may have been saved from crashing into the abyss, but it wasn’t safe yet.

Now, the true battle would begin. Not a battle against the earth, but against the beasts to rise from it.

The Black Sea had spilled into Asvar. And with it came the forlorn.