Chapter Twenty-Six:

  "Marked by the Heavens"

  As Emily stepped across the ancient threshold, the magic within the archway surged to life. Symbols, long dormant beneath the wood’s surface, ignited in lines of etched silver. The ground beneath her responded as well, the veins of ghostly light that traced through the city pulsing in tandem with her heartbeat.

  She wasn’t imagining it.

  The Realm was watching. Her.

  A hush fell over the gathered crowd, stretching endlessly through the streets, their silent anticipation weighing on her like an impending storm.

  Among them, others like her, Players, now stood within the procession, their presence undeniable even if they remained quiet, their gazes fixed forward. Countless figures packed the streets, every race, every age, their faces shifting between awe and uncertainty.

  Rendall studied the crowd, his gaze sharpening with something unreadable, calculating. "Quite the audience," he remarked, his amusement carrying an edge that sent a trace of unease through Emily. He gave her twisted smile, his gaze sharp beneath the casual amusement. “Care to say a few words?”

  Emily inhaled deeply, bracing herself against the weight settling over her. What was she supposed to say? These people were looking at them as if they were something more, as if they already knew who they were supposed to be.

  General Aldric Varos inhaled deeply, then stepped forward with deliberate control. “We stand here, on this day, now with the ability to reclaim our Realm! ” He declared, his voice carrying across the square. “We have struggled against the onslaught of The Dark One's forces for way too long! After centuries of living in fear, the ones who would come to save us, have arrived!”

  A wave of applause passed through the crowd, tension breaking in celebratory exchanges. Some nodded, others exchanged low whispers. The masked figures remained silent, their presence an unwavering pillar amidst the sea of anticipation, while behind Emily and Rendall, the other Players held their own uncertain stillness, waiting, watching.

  Emily steadied herself, forcing her voice into something unshakable. “We don’t know what’s ahead. But I know one thing.” She lifted her chin, meeting the eyes of those nearest to her. “We did not come here to kneel, nor to flee.”

  For a heartbeat, nothing.

  Then, the first voice rose. A cheer. Another followed, then another, until the entire square roared once more, not just in celebration, but in something stronger.

  Acknowledgment.

  Acceptance.

  Rendall inclined his head slightly, his gaze lingering on Emily. “Not bad.”

  Emily released a slow breath, but the pressure tightened in her chest, refusing to relent. If anything, it only settled deeper. The crowd’s roar should have been reassuring, but instead, it solidified something undeniable, this was real. The Realm had already decided who they were supposed to be, what they were supposed to be, whether she was ready or not. She had no idea what she had just dove into, what expectations had been placed on them before they had even arrived.

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  And whether she was ready or not, it had already begun.

  The roar of the crowd had barely begun to settle when the sky ignited.

  A cascade of prismatic sparks burst across the heavens, not like fireworks, but something older, something woven into the very essence of Oakspire's magic. The pyre flies that had pulsed through the city now lifted skyward, forming vast, shifting threads of color that stretched across the night. The celebrations had been grand before, but this, this was different. This was a declaration.

  Emily stared as the shifting lights above converged into figures, massive, spectral projections moving like living murals painted across the sky.

  The first image to take form was a warrior clad in silver and violet, his shield raised high against an unseen force. Light burst from his stance, a protective barrier spanning the battlefield behind him. The crowd gasped.

  Then another image formed, a figure wreathed in flowing emerald flames. Another cheer rose from the gathered people.

  One by one, the visions painted the sky.

  A fighter with fists of stone, pounded his fists together, causing an explosion of blue, red, and green light to rain down upon the crowd.

  A spear-wielding warrior standing atop a ship that defied the very laws of nature, its sails unfurled against a bright blue sky.

  A hooded figure cloaked in shadow, cards swirling around their hands as they moved with seamless, unnerving precision, leaving afterimages of shifting realities in their wake.

  A robed summoner with a spectral wolf standing at her side, both wreathed in the same silver-blue glow that made the very air tremble with potential.

  Emily's fingers curled into fists as she stared, breath held tight. Each figure meant something. Each one represented someone here, a Player, chosen, placed within this Realm.

  And then she saw it.

  The image of a girl, bow drawn, surrounded by azure flames. Her stance was steady, her focus unshaken.

  Emily.

  A hush spread through the crowd, shifting into quiet exchanges. They knew. They saw. The whispers were no longer just awe, but something else.

  Recognition.

  A slow, deliberate sound cut through the rising voices. Clapping.

  Rendall.

  He stood just behind her, his expression unreadable, his applause measured. "Now that," he murmured, "was quite the spectacle."

  The General had not moved. His face remained impassive, but his grip on his belt had tightened, his fingers pressing hard against the worn leather.

  He was staring at the final image, the one still blazing in the sky, the swordsman, wreathed in pure white light, standing before an oncoming storm.

  And he wasn’t the only one staring.

  Across the gathered masses, Emily saw the way people reacted. Some whispered to each other, pointing, nodding toward him, toward Rendall.

  She didn’t need to hear the words to understand.

  The way they looked at him said enough.

  Rendall tilted his head slightly, his smile widening just a fraction as if he had heard her thoughts himself, but that was impossible... right?

  After the last sparkles of light left the skies, the masked figure at the head of the procession lifted their arms, their voice cutting cleanly through the rising tension. "The sky has spoken. The Realm acknowledges those who have come. The ones who walk the path. The ones who will decide."

  Emily drew a slow breath, steadying her stance. Had she ever truly been in control of this? Had any of them? The Realm had already decided, Gameweaver had already decided, but there was also something else. That unseen presence somehow felt different than the always watching eye of Gameweaver.

  It felt... familiar.

  Only now did she begin to grasp how little control she truly had. The display in the sky had not been a mere celebration, it had been a decree.

  Eldoria was not merely welcoming them, it was claiming them.

  And with that recognition came something far more dangerous, expectation.