CHAPTER 98: CHAPTER 97. CHRONOS’ POWER

Then Vivianne took a deep breath, standing tall in front of the three fallen Luthen, their bodies already beginning to mend, black tendrils knitting flesh and bone with grotesque speed. In the darkness beyond, four more shapes moved, taller, heavier, their glowing eyes fixed upon her. The air thickened with the weight of decay and sorrow.

She raised her hand. Her eyes turned white, so bright they swallowed the color from the forest itself. Her voice trembled as she spoke, yet carried the echo of something ancient, something divine.

"If you forgot your duties because of the corruption," she said, her words resonating with power that made even the air hum, "then remember your duties."

A sound like the turning of time itself swept across the clearing, slow, grinding, and eternal. The earth shuddered, and from Vivianne’s body spilled ribbons of silver light that twisted through the air, curling like threads of memory. The corrupted guardians froze where they stood. The mist around them rippled, resisting, before being dragged inward by the force that emanated from her.

She’s calling upon Chronos’s gift, the Power of Remembering, the dominion over time’s echoes, to force the guardians to recall the duties they had forgotten. Vivianne’s light reached the first Luthen.

The creature let out a guttural snarl that quickly shifted into a shriek of agony. It clutched its head as the memories began to pour in, as if invisible hands were prying open the gates of its mind. The others followed, roaring, their bodies twisting under the weight of remembrance.

And within the blinding light, Vivianne saw what they saw.

She saw a forest untouched by corruption, a vast, living cathedral of green and gold. She saw the Luthen as they once were: majestic beings of silver bark and crystal eyes, protectors born from the forest’s will. They stood as sentinels at sacred glades, their spears carved from roots of the World Tree, their vows sworn to the Spirit Kings themselves.

She heard their voices echoing across centuries. "We guard the heart of the forest. We keep balance between spirit and mortal. We kneel only to the will of the living world."

The memories flowed faster. Vivianne’s body trembled as she channeled more power than her mortal form should have endured. Her light intensified, blinding even the Spirit Kings. Roxanne screamed her name, struggling against the barriers of wind and water and earth that kept her from reaching her wife.

The Luthens screamed too, but beneath the anguish, there’s something else: recognition.

Black sludge began to drip from their forms, searing the ground where it fell. The corruption peeled away in shreds, burned by the light of their own memories. Silver shone through the darkness, patches of luminous armor, crystalline veins, and gleaming eyes once again filled with purpose instead of madness.

Vivianne’s voice rose above their wails, echoing through every tree. "You are guardians of the old forest. You are the shield of the living. You are not slaves to the void; remember who you are!"

The forest itself responded. Leaves trembled. Roots pulsed with light. The corrupted fog is starting to draw away, burned by the brilliance that emanated from her. The seven Luthen writhed, then fell to their knees as visions cascaded through their minds: the births of ancient trees, the laughter of spirits dancing in rivers, and the scent of eternal spring. They remembered every life they had saved, every promise they had made.

Then came the pain, memories of when they had failed. Of when the corruption first crept in like rot through the soil, whispering lies of betrayal and abandonment. Vivianne forced them to see it, to confront it, to own it.

Their screams turned from rage to grief. One by one, they howled to the sky, a chorus of agony that cracked through the forest like thunder. The sound tore through Vivianne’s chest, but she held on, even as blood ran from her nose and her knees buckled.

Roxanne’s sword shattered Undine’s barrier. "Vivianne!" she cried, her voice raw.

But just as she broke free, the light reached its peak, so bright that even the Spirit Kings shielded their faces.

When it faded, silence fell once more. The seven Luthen knelt in a circle around Vivianne, their bodies no longer blackened with corruption but glowing faintly with soft, verdant light. The air smelled of rain and renewal.

After the mist parted like a curtain, all of them could see the true forms of the Luthen. They were breathtaking. Each stood over seven meters tall, but now their bodies shone like living marble veined with glowing emerald lines.

Moss and flowers bloomed along their limbs, their eyes gleaming with the calm luminescence of ancient wisdom. The air around them pulsed gently, carrying the scent of earth after rain and the quiet hum of power older than language itself.

No one spoke. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

"So this... is what they were meant to be," Marvessa whispered, her voice trembling as she clutched Mara’s hand. Both of them were still bruised and bloodstained from the fight, their armor cracked and scorched, yet their eyes gleamed with awe rather than fear.

One of the mixed-blood demon knights behind Roxanne broke the silence, his voice hoarse and reverent. "By the gods of flame... I thought no beauty could come from ash."

The four Spirit Kings stood together, their gazes fixed upon the reborn guardians. Undine’s form rippled with quiet wonder, Terranova’s usually stoic face softened, and Afrit’s ever-burning eyes dimmed to a low, humbled glow. Tempest exhaled slowly, his winds circling the Luthen in silent respect.

None of them had believed they would ever witness such a sight again. It had been centuries, millennia, even—since the Luthen last stood uncorrupted. Each passing age had only deepened their fall, the taint of mortal greed and forbidden magic turning them into monsters of despair.

And yet, here they are, purified. Alive. Remembering. For the first time in ages, the forest itself seemed to breathe again. The earth whispered in gratitude to its ancient guardians returned.

Vivianne swayed on her feet, her glow fading with every breath. "You remember now," she whispered. "Guard the forest again... not as monsters, but as yourselves."

One of the Luthen bowed its great head, the motion slow and solemn. Its voice rolled through the clearing like thunder softened by sorrow. "We... remember. The master of the Spirit Kings... we thank you."

Vivianne smiled faintly, her lips trembling as if she wanted to say more. But before she could speak, her knees gave out. The silver light surrounding her body shimmered once, flickered like a dying star, and vanished.

The four Spirit Kings reacted instantly. The protective barriers that had surrounded the envoy dissolved as they rushed toward her. Undine caught Vivianne first, her form flowing into a sphere of glowing water that cradled her gently. "Her life force is fading," she said, her tone sharp with panic.

Tempest spread his wings wide, pouring streams of wind into Undine’s healing water. Afrit pressed his burning hand against Vivianne’s heart, sharing his flame to keep it beating.

Terranova knelt beside them, his power sinking into the soil beneath her to draw strength from the land itself. Their combined energy pulsed through Vivianne in waves of water, wind, flame, and earth, pouring their power to hers.

"Vivianne!" Roxanne cried, sprinting forward, ignoring the searing ache in her body, and caught her wife before she could fall to the ground. She pulled Vivianne close, clutching her trembling form against her chest, her voice shaking. "Stay with me... please stay with me."

Vivianne’s breathing was shallow, her body cold. The mark of Chronos faintly glowed on her wrist, then dimmed, fading beneath her skin. Roxanne pressed her forehead to Vivianne’s, whispering her name again and again, her voice cracking each time.

Around them, the seven newly restored Luthen rose from their kneeling positions. Their great bodies shimmered in hues of emerald and silver, their wings spreading like veils of light.

One of them lowered its massive head toward the trembling pair and spoke softly, its voice reverent. "We shall guard you all... until our savior awakens."

As one, the Luthen lifted their hands and drew sigils into the air. The symbols pulsed with soft light, weaving together into a magnificent barrier of living nature. It shimmered like crystal, enclosing the envoy within a sphere of protection that hummed with ancient power.

The air grew calm again, peaceful and heavy with divine energy.

Mara moved among the knights, her palms glowing faint gold as she tended to the wounded. Her magic mended torn flesh and soothed pain, while those less hurt gathered the healing potions they had brought from the Fenclade Dominion, passing them around silently.

While Marvessa lay weak nearby, pale and breathing shallowly, two servants tended to her, wiping her brow and wrapping her in warm blankets. The maids worked quickly and quietly, setting up tents for their lords beneath the faint glow of Luthen’s barrier.

At the center of it all, Roxanne knelt on the forest floor, her arms wrapped tightly around Vivianne’s trembling body. Her eyes were fixed on her wife’s pale face, on the faint flicker of her eyelids, searching for any sign of life.

"How is she?" Roxanne’s voice is low, barely steady, and thick with fear she could no longer hide.

The midwife knelt beside them. She placed her hands on Vivianne’s neck and stomach, her expression tightening with every passing second. "She’s very weak, Your Grace," she said finally. "We must hope she can make it through the night."

Roxanne’s grip tightened around Vivianne’s hand. "She has to wake up," she said, her voice breaking.

The midwife looked up, meeting Roxanne’s burning gaze. "I will have the concoction ready for her once she awakens tomorrow," she said gently. "It will strengthen her body and help her breathe easier. I’ll check on the Grand Duchess every hour, I swear it."

But her tone carried the weight of uncertainty, something even Roxanne could hear. "Please," Roxanne whispered, her voice trembling as she held Vivianne closer.

The midwife hesitated, then shook her head slowly. "This isn’t something I can mend, Your Grace. Her body is exhausted, yes, but this..." She gestured to the faint light shimmering over Vivianne’s skin, a mix of silver and gold, like stars bleeding through her pores. "...this is not physical. It’s them; only they can fix it."

Roxanne frowned, her heart pounding. "What do you mean?"

"I know how to deal with the pain of a pregnant omega, with the weakness and the strain. But this..." The midwife’s voice softened, reverent and fearful. "I can’t."

"That light is the echo of what she used, the power that does not belong to mortals. The power to remember." Marvessa’s weak voice rang; she kept her consciousness to keep watching the spirits and listening to them to make sure her master was fine.

She can see the four spirit kings pouring their power into Vivianne, pulsing in rhythm with Vivianne’s heartbeat, faint but steady. Gold threads danced through the air around her, whispering like fragments of forgotten voices. Roxanne could feel it, too, the presence of something ancient brushing against her soul.

"She’s trapped between worlds," the Marvessa continued quietly. "Somewhere between memory and time. Only she can return herself now."