Chapter 77:
Tethrios, the World of the Exiled
The portal trembled like a living thing, stretching across the sanctum's horizon, casting shadows that danced with forgotten tongues. As Errin and Nayel stepped through, the warmth of their sanctum vanished, replaced by the bitter cold of a world long abandoned by the divine.
Tethrios was not a place for the living. It was a scar carved deep into the cosmos—a realm exiled from celestial favor, where the winds howled with memory and the soil whispered curses. Yet, it pulsed with life of a different kind—life unchained by order or prophecy.
> "This world remembers betrayal," Nayel muttered. "Even the rocks mourn."
Errin nodded, sensing the ancient agony around them. The very gravity of Tethrios felt heavier, as if the land itself resented their arrival.
---
I. The Silent Guardians
They crossed the dunes of black crystal, arriving at the edge of a ruined temple half-buried in dust and time. A statue stood vigil at its gate—a faceless warrior, blade pointed down, wings broken at the joints.
Kei'la stepped forward, her voice a whisper, "This is where the Last Accord was broken. The guardians who once defended the balance turned their backs when the heavens chose silence."
Inside, echoes of war lingered—charred banners, rusted swords, bones etched with symbols of a forgotten pact. But something stirred within the ruins. Something watching.
Suddenly, pillars of flame erupted, forming a ring around them. From the smoke stepped five warriors, each cloaked in relics of ages past. Their eyes glowed not with life, but judgment.
> "Who summons the Forsaken Accord?" the lead warrior asked, his voice cracking like thunder over stone.
Errin stepped forward, blood humming with ancient might. "I am Errin, reborn through the Flame of Origin. I bring my son, Nayel—the heir to a broken covenant."
Silence fell. Then a blade was drawn.
> "Then he must be tested."
---
II. Trial of the Exiled
The trial was not one of combat alone. It was memory, emotion, and will. The warriors of Tethrios did not test strength—they tested purpose.
Nayel stood at the center of a stone arena, the past bleeding into the sky above him. He relived visions not his own—of ancestors fleeing, of divine children consumed by flames, of oaths whispered and broken.
One question echoed across the air, from all sides at once:
> "Will you become what they fear… or what they hoped?"
Each vision stabbed deeper into Nayel's soul. The fear of becoming a tyrant. The weight of expectation. The temptation of vengeance.
> "I will become what is needed," he whispered, and his words rippled like a shout across the realm.
The ground cracked. The arena shattered. And the Forsaken fell to one knee.
> "Then we will follow," they said. "Not because you are heir, but because you have chosen to be."
---
III. The Covenant Rekindled
Errin raised his hand, and from his palm, a spark of divinity flared—ancient, flickering with the essence of his ancestors. The warriors of Tethrios extended their hands, each offering a shard of their lost power, binding it into the Covenant Sigil.
A new pact formed—not bound by gods, but by will, fire, and blood.
> "You will march with us?" Errin asked.
> "No," the lead warrior said. "We will march behind you."
And for the first time in millennia, the flame in the temple of Tethrios burned again.
---
Next Chapter: 78 – The Gathering Tempest
The newly forged alliance begins their march. But the Betrayer King senses the revival of the covenant. His hand stretches across the stars, and a storm begins to gather. The Shrouded Hunt is unleashed—and this time, they won't come as scouts. They'll come as executioners.
Let's enter the Gathering Tempest?