CHAPTER 340: THE CREATOR AND THE FORSAKEN

The shadows of the Deadroot Forest thickened the deeper they went. Gnarled trees now groaned overhead, their twisted branches like skeletal hands, clawing at the fog-choked sky. But Eirana had no time to dwell on the eerie beauty. She was sprinting at full tilt—her silver blade slick with blood from both Elven warriors and the beasts they’d encountered along the way.

Beside her, the Voidcloak glided effortlessly, its featureless face cloaked in an ever-shifting swirl of dark mist, its steps completely soundless despite the chaos.

"Faster," she muttered, teeth clenched, eyes darting. "We have to lose them before they call reinforcements."

Behind them, faint horns blew through the forest—warning calls. The Elven patrols were regrouping.

A massive fangback lizard lunged from the thickets ahead—its eyes burning with rage, mouth foaming with rot.

Without hesitation, Eirana slashed horizontally, cutting through the beast’s skull as it crumbled with a squeal. She turned to make sure the Voidcloak was still behind her—only to realize it was now floating just above the lizard’s body, its clawed shadowy hand crushing another beast mid-leap without ever turning to face it.

"...You’re not even winded," she whispered, breath heavy. "What are you really..."

The Voidcloak didn’t respond—just tilted its head.

They pressed on.

But just as they cleared another thicket, the leaves ahead began to part—not as if blown by wind, but as if forced aside by some unseen dominion.

The air grew heavy.

Too heavy.

Suddenly—

BOOM.

A ripple surged outward like a shockwave. Birds scattered. The beasts of the forest fled. The Voidcloak came to a stop beside Eirana. And she—though she didn’t understand how—suddenly knew who was coming.

And then, the leaves and trees suddenly ripped open like paper.

And out of it stepped Endless.

Clad in black regalia of woven voidlight and ancient sigils, his expression was neither wrathful nor amused.

Just... disappointed.

Eirana froze, every instinct screaming at her to run, but her legs refused to obey.

The Voidcloak stood still, shoulders tense, its body slowly wavering like smoke trying to hold shape. Its reaction was... strange.

Not fear.

Not hostility.

But conflict.

"You’ve grown," Endless said softly, his eyes fixed solely on the Voidcloak. "Far beyond what I expected."

His voice was like rusted silk—ancient and smooth, but corroded at the edges.

"Seems like you have found a play thing, wonderful. Now, come to me" he whispered as he stretched out his right hand.

The Voidcloak remained silent... but it looked toward Eirana.

Not him.

Her.

Eirana blinked. "...Why... are you looking at me like that?" Her breath quickened. "Don’t tell me you think—No. I’m not your—!"

But she couldn’t finish the sentence.

Because deep in her chest, something pulled. An aching warmth. Familiar and foreign.

And that gaze—it wasn’t of a soldier to a master.

It was a child looking to its mother.

"No..." she whispered. "No, that’s not possible. Can’t you see what both of us are made off!? It’s not possible!"

But Endless didn’t seem to care about what is transpiring right in front of him as he tilted his head and finally looked at her.

And just like that—

Eirana’s body was lifted off the ground, her limbs snapping straight, her sword clattering to the forest floor.

She gasped, choking on her breath as her body rose like a lifeless puppet.

His eyes—those obsidian voids—drilled into her soul.

"You stole him from me," he said, voice now cold, lifeless. "You altered his instincts. His tether."

His hand didn’t move. Not a twitch.

Yet she was now suspended midair, unable to speak, quivering under a force she couldn’t comprehend.

"So tell me, the elusive granddaughter to the monarch of the Nullcarvers," Endless whispered. "How do you want to die?"

The world stopped breathing.

The Voidcloak stirred.

A low rumble emanated from within it, like a roar muffled through thick fog. The shadows around it rippled and condensed, flickering like obsidian lightning.

Endless did not flinch.

"You would defy me?" he asked his creation, brow twitching in irritation.

The Voidcloak turned fully now, placing itself between Endless and Eirana—slowly, protectively.

And though it spoke no words... the message was crystal clear.

Eirana. Must. Not. Die.

Endless’s jaw clenched ever so slightly.

"So be it."

And just as he raised his hand—ready to erase them both in one breath—

A golden pillar of light suddenly burst upward in the far distance—from the direction of the Hollow where Kaelen and his friends are currently training.

A sudden surge.

A Seer’s pulse.

Endless’s head turned slowly... and for the first time in eons, his composure cracked.

"A Seer? Is born here?"

"Isn’t the sudden emergence of lost tribes and races at this time a bit too coincidental?"

The Voidcloak growled in defiance.

But Endless turned away from them, his form beginning to fade into the mist once more.

"Enjoy your rebellion while it lasts, little ghost," he murmured to the Voidcloak. "And you, girl of the Nullcarvers..." he flicked his fingers, and Eirana collapsed to the ground, coughing violently. "We’ll speak again."

And with that, he vanished.

Leaving only the trembling echo of power in the wind.

Eirana clutched her chest, gasping for breath. She looked up at the Voidcloak, eyes wide in disbelief.

"You... you protected me..."

The Voidcloak tilted its head once again, and this time—though it had no mouth or eyes—Eirana could have sworn it was... smiling.

–––––

Meanwhile....

The war drums had started to beat.

Commander Maeralyn stood atop the balcony of the Western Spire, her cloak billowing in the morning breeze as she issued command after command to the gathering Elven battalions below.

"Double the perimeter! No one enters the Deadroot without my clearance. And inform the other divisions—tonight, we march. The Nullcarvers will yield its intruder, or it will be razed."

Her lieutenants moved like gears in a perfect machine, their armor glinting in the dawn. Every elf under her command knew this wasn’t merely about trespassing—it was about preserving Elven sovereignty and punishing the hidden threat that had defied it.

She turned to one of her captains. "And make sure our Arcane Scouts suppress their magical signals. We’ll not alert the Nullcarvers of our approach until we are upon them."

"Understood, Commander," the captain replied, before vanishing into the wind on his mana glider.

Meanwhile, deeper within the settlement, in the Sanctum of Echoed Time, a suffocating silence had descended upon the Ancient Elven Council. Still seated in a crescent ring of living stone, the ancient elders—beings whose eyes had watched epochs pass—sat still and unmoving like timeworn statues.

Only the soft rustle of Velyrian’s robes could be heard as the Seer stepped forward to speak yet again—

But then he froze.

Violently.

His eyes went wide, pupils vanishing into glowing white spirals as he collapsed to one knee, clutching his head.

A sudden pulse radiated from his body—ripples of mana warping the very air in the chamber.

"Velyrian?" one of the Ancient Elves asked sharply.

The room dimmed.

Velyrian gasped as if drowning, his voice trembling:

"A girl.... she... she has awakened..."

Everyone leaned forward.

"The girl... the Seer Bloodline... it didn’t die with the old generation. It was reborn. Hidden in the blood of man—highly diluted—but now..."

He trembled again.

"Now it sings. Her voice—it cuts through the realm. Even the stars hear her. And I feel she might be with the Nullcarvers"

The entire chamber shuddered as every elf present felt the echoes of the Seer Pulse. Subtle to mortals, but to them... it was a symphony of truths unveiled.

Velyrian stood, face pale, sweat glistening along his brow. His usual mask of indifference had been shattered. There was urgency in his gaze now. Fear even.

"This isn’t an ordinary awakening. This is a Seer’s resurgence. If she continues down this path..."

"She could change the destiny of Aetheris itself."

The room fell silent.

Until a low, ancient voice echoed from the seat highest among them.

An elf unlike the others—ancient even among Ancients—stood from his throne for the first time in centuries.

Eyes like cracked emeralds burned with solemnity.

"Then we must ensure that destiny favors the Elves."

He stepped forward, his cane clacking against the marble floor, though his aura was strong enough to still the air itself.

"Summon the Wayfarers. The White Blades. Call upon every shadow who still bears our crest."

Velyrian blinked. "You would send them?"

The Head Elder turned to him.

"A Seer belongs to the Elves. She is ours by blood. If the Nullcarvers nurtures her, it is treason. If the humans hide her, it is betrayal."

Another elder spoke up, uneasily, "We risk war."

"Then let war come. Besides, I fear we might already be in a war due to the appearance of the Dark Eternal called Endless."

A collective gasp rippled through the chamber.

But the Head Elder raised his hand, silencing them.

"We move not as conquerors... but as protectors. She will be taken... for her own safety. And brought here... where she belongs."

Velyrian remained quiet. But deep inside, something unsettled stirred.

For the first time in millennia, the Elves were mobilizing—and not against monsters, nor humans, but against a child of their own forgotten divinity.

The future of Aetheris had just begun to shift.

And the world... wouldn’t be ready for it.