Celestia was confused. The melody, which she had always turned to when feeling downcast, had now transformed into an incantation. How? How is this possible?
“Little Star,” the Spirit King’s voice rumbled softly only in Celestia's head, reverberating like a distant thunderclap. It was gentle yet commanding as if the very earth bowed to his presence. His eyes, glowing with ancient knowledge, rested upon Celestia, the weight of ages reflected in their depths. “You are the one who called me with such an honest, emotional wish.”
Celestia’s breath hitched, disbelief swirling in her mind. She felt the strain of her Mana slipping away, leaving nothing but an echo behind. “But… I don’t understand,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, each word a struggle against the exhaustion that clung to her like a shroud.
A low, amused rumble escaped the Spirit King as he stepped forward, his fur radiating warmth like a gentle spring breeze, wrapping around her like a protective cloak. Easing her exhaustion for the moment, “Oh, Little Star,” he said, lowering his massive head toward her, his knowing gaze never wavering. “It was not your Mana alone that summoned me.”
Her violet eyes widened, tracking his gaze as it turned toward Caleb, whose heart thundered in his chest, each beat resonating with newfound urgency. The Spirit King’s eyes pierced through him, unravelling truths even Caleb hadn’t yet realized.
“It was your Mana that answered her wish,” the Spirit King’s voice whispered directly into Caleb’s mind, soft yet laden with revelation. “Not long ago, you poured your essence into her, wishing more than anything for her life to return to her. A resurrection spell in his purest form. Amplified by a beautiful bond,” The weight of this truth sank deep into Caleb’s chest.
Caleb’s breath caught in his throat, memories of healing Celestia flooding his mind—the desperation, the helplessness as he had poured his very essence into her fragile form, willing her to survive. But he hadn’t known… this connection, this bond that wove their fates together in ways he had yet to comprehend.
“A Soulmate Bond is wonderful, isn’t it, Caleb Nightglen?” The Spirit King’s voice was gentle, but the truth it carried felt like a storm churning within Caleb. A Soulmate Bond? Impossible! This was always just a children's story! His thoughts raced, and for the first time, he glimpsed the depth of the bond they started to share, one deeper than duty or friendship. His chest tightened under its weight, a mix of protectiveness and longing flaring inside him.
But before Caleb could fully process this revelation, a harsh voice shattered the fragile silence that had enveloped them.
“LIES! She deserves every ounce of what happened to her!” Ryker's voice rang out, dripping with venom and slicing through the air like a blade. He stormed toward them, his face contorted in fury, his hand tightly clenched around his sword hilt as he glared at the Spirit King. His eyes turned to Celestia, trembling and weakened from the summoning. “You think some pathetic spirit will save you now? Nothing will change what already happened.” he snarled, malice seeping from every word.
Celestia’s heart clenched painfully in her chest as Ryker advanced. Memories surged forward—his touch, the promises he had once whispered sweetly in her ear, the tender moments that now felt like ghostly shadows. But now, his eyes were filled with hate, starkly contrasting to the man she had once trusted. “You fool,” Ryker growled, towering over her like a dark cloud ready to unleash a storm. “You willingly gave everything to me! And I willingly betrayed you! Because you are nothing more than a pawn!”
As he spoke, a sinister aura enveloped him, his dark magic flaring to life, whispering like soft shadows in the air around him. It coiled and twisted, hinting at the depths of his power, a reminder that he was not easily contained. That he would do anything.
“Ryker…” Celestia’s voice was barely a whisper, her body trembling as if caught in a tempest, every muscle heavy with fatigue and pain. She tried to pull back, but it was as if the very air weighed her down, her mind reeling from the anguish.
“This is what you loved,” Ryker sneered, his voice sharp and poisonous. “I’m a monster. A monster that fucked you mindless! You loved it. You trusted me. You loved me. And I left you to die as you deserve it!” He reached for her arm, yanking her forward as she gasped in pain, a cry of anguish that echoed in the cavernous space.
“By the Elements!” Caleb roared, his voice a thunderclap of fury. He lunged toward Ryker, his sword flashing with deadly intent. But the dark mage was quick, throwing Celestia aside like a ragdoll as the two men clashed. Their swords rang together with a force that reverberated through the air.
Caleb’s fury boiled over, his strikes relentless, each blow fueled by the righteous anger that surged through him. “You think you can touch her? You betrayed and lied to her, and you will answer for every one of your sins! I will make sure you pay for everything you did to her!” His voice shook with rage, but Ryker barely managed to block his onslaught, the weight of Caleb’s wrath forcing him back.
The Spirit King’s presence loomed over the battlefield. "ENOUGH with this theatre," his voice booming with authority, silencing the chaos around them. He stepped forward, placing one of his massive paws beside Celestia, a silent vow that he would no longer allow her to be harmed. His violet eyes glowed brighter, illuminating the darkness threatening to consume them both. “I have seen the truth,” he proclaimed, each word resonating with power. “The lies end here. No more!”
A palpable shift filled the air as a great bead of light travelled from the necklace before the Spirit King, shimmering with the radiance of the past. Memories began to ripple into view—Celestia’s memories, woven together like threads of fate.
The image unfolded like a dark tapestry, revealing Celestia standing defiantly on the tenth level of the dungeon, her heart pounding in her chest. The air was thick with damp stone's stench and magic's acrid scent. The Dark Army, usually on the twelfth level, surrounded her, their sinister forms looming like a gathering storm, their eyes glinting with malice. At the centre stood the Dark Sorcerer, his presence a shadow that swallowed the light. A wicked smile played on his lips as he regarded her with cold amusement.
With fierce determination, Celestia summoned her magic, vibrant tendrils of energy bursting from her fingertips like wildflowers in a barren field. She gripped her sword tightly in her other hand, the blade shimmering with ethereal light, a testament to her strength and skill. She fought valiantly, channelling every ounce of her power, wielding both magic and steel with precision as she cut through the darkness around her. Her sword danced through the air, a beacon of hope against the encroaching shadows.
But as the Dark Army closed in, their grip tightening around her like a noose, fatigue crept into her bones, and doubt slithered into her mind. She felt the weight of betrayal pressing down on her, a heavy shroud that made her movements sluggish. One by one, her allies fell, their forms dissolving into the darkness, until she was left standing alone—abandoned, surrounded by the jeers of her foes. The cacophony of their laughter echoed in her ears, mocking her bravery, a cruel reminder of her isolation. And in this moment, something changed for her.
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With one final surge of resolve, she met the Dark Sorcerer’s gaze, a flicker of defiance igniting in her violet eyes, even as the shadows threatened to consume her. Her sword glinted in the dim light, a silent promise that she would fight to the bitter end.
The illusion shattered, revealing a twisted tapestry of Ryker’s treachery woven into the very fabric of their past. In this memory, he stood shrouded in darkness, a puppet master orchestrating Celestia's downfall from the moment he first laid eyes on her in the orphanage. His wicked laughter echoed through the battlefield as he revelled in the chaos, a sinister smile curling his lips.
He had played the role of the devoted friend and confidant, cloaking his true intentions beneath layers of deceit. The black sorcerer’s voice whispered in his mind, urging him to deliver a Pendragon to fulfil the dark pact forged long ago. Ryker had manipulated her every move, using their bond as a means to an end, much like his father had done with Celestia’s parents.
As Celestia fought valiantly against the Dark Army, her sword glinting defiantly in the dim light, Ryker stood back, a cruel spectator to her struggle. Each swing of her blade, every spell she cast, was met with shadows that flickered and danced, but they were not the allies she believed them to be. The sorcerer’s illusions shrouded the battlefield, making her fight seem like a battle against a faceless horde while her true friends were mere phantoms conjured by Ryker’s wicked magic.
“Look at you, fighting for nothing,” he taunted, his voice laced with malice. “You think you have allies, but they’re all just figments of your imagination—illusions to feed your hope. You deserve this fate!”
As the shadows closed in, Celestia felt the weight of despair creeping in, the realization that her allies were gone—trapped in the web of Ryker’s betrayal. He watched, a sinister glee alight in his eyes, relishing every moment of her downfall, convinced that she had finally received what she truly deserved.
At that moment, the illusion dissipated, exposing Ryker and his party, cloaked in deceit, retreating from the battlefield. At the same time, Celestia stood against impossible odds, her heart aching with the weight of betrayal and the darkness closing in around her.
The memory shifted, pulling back to reveal the Dark Sorcerer who had cursed her, a wicked grin spreading across his face. Delighted, he revelled in the triumph of finally capturing a Pendragon after all these years. Excitement surged through him as he chanted the cruel incantation that had been forged in the depths of his malice for three long decades. The curse unfurled from his lips like a sinister melody, creeping through the shadows in invisible tendrils of black smoke, slithering towards Celestia like a serpent ready to strike.
As it seeped under her skin, burrowing deep into the very core of her soul, he felt a surge of satisfaction. Yet, to his astonishment, he had never witnessed a Pendragon fight with such ferocity—wielding magic and brandishing a sword with fierce determination. Her skills were remarkable, a testament to her lineage, but the sorcerer was even more intrigued by a second source of strength: her connection to the spirits. He could see it, shimmering beneath the surface, yet she remained blissfully unaware of this bond.
Disgust flickered in his chest at the thought of the spirits, those insufferable beings he loathed, yet he couldn’t help but relish the prospect of draining her magic day by day, siphoning her essence until she was a mere shadow of her former self.
The sorcerer watched in amazement as she stood resolute against his monstrous army, a lone warrior defying insurmountable odds. Her unwavering determination and courage were palpable, igniting a begrudging respect within him. He recognized her strength, her spirit unyielding even in the face of despair.
Yet, the time for confrontation would come later. For now, he retreated deeper into the dungeon, not out of mercy but to plot his next move. He would savor the slow victory of watching her fight and falter, a Pendragon brought low by the very magic meant to empower her.
“NO!” Ryker screamed, panic etching itself across his features as fury twisted his expression into something grotesque. “This is a lie!” But the Spirit King’s voice thundered above him, drowning out his desperate protests.
“The truth is undeniably revealed before everyone's eyes,” the Spirit King declared, each word resonating with ancient power that echoed in the minds of the onlookers. “Your own actions condemn you, Ryker Vexmoor.” His tone shifted, commanding and formidable, filling the air with authority. “You, who prey upon the weak, shall be shown your sins. You who mingle with dark forces not allowed in the mortal realm will be judged.”
As if the Spirit King’s words were law, the sigils around the summoning circle flared to life, each pulsing with raw energy. The air crackled as memories unfolded, a tapestry woven from shadows and light. A shimmering projection began to form—transmitting the dark truths of Ryker's betrayals across realms, reaching those who could mete out justice. The weight of his sins would soon bear down upon him, and human law was not the only reckoning he faced.
Fury ignited within Ryker, and with a desperate scream, he lunged at Celestia, hatred fueling every movement. But Caleb was faster. With a swift strike, he disarmed Ryker, sending him crashing to the ground, his defeat now inevitable.
The Spirit King regarded Ryker one last time, his eyes glowing with ancient judgment. “Your time of betrayal is over. Punishment by Human Law!" the voice thundered, the spirit’s authority palpable and commanding. Caleb's heart raced as the words hung in the air, a tension enveloping the crowd. Whispers turned to gasps, eyes wide with the sudden shift in fate.
"Punishment by Spirit Law!" the voice continued, sending shockwaves of anticipation through the throng, silencing any lingering doubt. The weight of justice loomed heavy, a reckoning that had finally come for Ryker. Caleb felt a surge of hope intertwining with his fury as he realized that the walls closing in on Ryker were not merely metaphorical.
With those words, Ryker collapsed, bound by the magic of the Spirit King’s unyielding judgment. “As King of Spirits, I punish you here and now, Ryker Vexmoor! I sever your connection to your magic, leaving you with only human strength. Furthermore, I revoke your bond with your guardian spirit!”
Before Ryker could respond, guards surged forward from the Safe Zone, a solid wall of resolve, alerted by the Spirit King's summons. Their faces were set with grim determination as they apprehended him with practised efficiency. Shackles forged to suppress magic snapped around his wrists, rendering him powerless as an extra precaution. Stripped of the strength he once wielded, Ryker looked small and frail, his eyes darting in desperation to the indifferent faces around him. The crowd’s eyes darted between his seething rage and Celestia's fragile form, breaths held in anticipation, their whispers rising like a murmur of distant thunder.
As the guards dragged him toward the dungeon cells, Ryker thrashed, screaming futile denials that fell on deaf ears. Caleb watched, unmoved, his gaze hard as iron until the last echo of Ryker's voice faded into the depths of the dungeon.
“Rest now, little one,” he said, his gaze gentle on Celestia before it shifted to Caleb. “The bond you share is profound; let it guide you in the days to come. But it's at it's beginning.”
He continued, his voice carrying deep significance, “Celestia has sacrificed so much, bearing the heavy burden of betrayal. It is time for the world to see the truth of her strength so she may finally begin to heal. And maybe she can step forward as the person she is meant to be.”
With those final words, the Spirit King vanished, leaving behind only the ethereal glow of his magic and the resonance of his truths.
Caleb resolves to protect her, and his resolve solidifies when he learns of their connection. As the remnants of the Spirit King's essence envelop the Safe Zone, a surge of power courses through him, amplifying his determination.
Caleb's voice was laced with confusion. “My first encounter with the Spirit King, and I have more questions than answers.”
Celestia took a steadying breath and pushed her heavy body from the ground, her gaze finding her family sword still planted firmly in the earth. Despite the tremors coursing through her body, she dragged herself toward it, each step measured, a quiet defiance gleaming in her weary eyes.
Reaching the hilt, she wrapped her fingers around it, drawing strength from the familiar grip. She gave a small, determined pull, attempting to loosen it, but the weight of exhaustion pressed back, her body nearly buckling under the strain.
