Elior's eyes fluttered open to find himself lying beneath a sky painted with hues of twilight. The air shimmered with stillness. Before him stood Seraphis, cloaked in celestial light, its wings slowly folding as it gazed upon him.
"You've completed the first step," Seraphis said with a gentle voice that echoed like wind through ancient trees. "Now, it's time… to take you to Thal'Nora."
Elior's eyes lit up. "We're going?"
"Yes," Seraphis said. "Come."
With a gust of ethereal wind, Elior was lifted and placed on Seraphis' back. In a heartbeat, they soared into the heavens.
At first, Elior screamed, clinging tightly to Seraphis, eyes squeezed shut. But then... he opened them. The sky above them shimmered with drifting galaxies. Nebulas of violet and blue danced across the void, and radiant creatures fluttered through the stars. The wind on his face turned from fear to freedom.
"Am I allowed to speak now?" he asked with a nervous laugh.
Seraphis chuckled. "Yes, Elior. Ask."
As they approached a shimmering arch suspended in the sky, Elior leaned forward. "Is this Thal'Nora?"
"No," Seraphis replied. "This… is the Gate of Echoes."
As they passed through, whispers surrounded them. Voices—faint, ghostly—called his name. His parents' voices.
"Wait… that's my mother's voice—my father's!" Elior cried.
Suddenly, two familiar forms materialized from the mist. Elior's breath caught. "That's them! Seraphis, please! Stop!"
"They are not your parents," Seraphis warned, eyes narrowing. "They are familiar spirits sent to deceive."
But Elior leapt.
Gravity pulled him toward the illusions, but before he could reach them, Seraphis cried out in a tongue unknown: "Vistra El'Morai!"
In an instant, the illusions melted into grotesque beasts. Their skin split open, revealing rows of jagged teeth. Elior screamed. Seraphis caught him mid-air and pulled him skyward once more.
"What did you say back there?" Elior asked, breathless.
"'Unveil to the mortal eye,'" Seraphis said calmly. "You too can use those words, but only as the bearer of the Sacred Staff."
Elior looked at the staff in his hands. Curiosity surged through him. He pointed it at a floating dark mass. "Vistra El'Morai!"
The veil lifted, revealing a colossal fish with glowing eyes.
"That creature," Seraphis said, "guards the gate to Umbroxis—the Realm of False Light. Enter it, and you may never return."
Fear gripped Elior. "Let's not stop here," he whispered.
They passed onward, through the second arch.
"This is the Gate of Veils," Seraphis explained. "Where illusion reigns, and truth hides."
Gold and diamond statues lined their path—breathtaking in splendor. But Elior, remembering Seraphis' words, whispered again, "Vistra El'Morai."
The false beauty melted away, revealing twisted, formless shadows.
They reached a towering sculpture of a golden bird.
"What's this?" Elior asked.
"Emberlum," Seraphis replied. "A soul imprisoned here for over a century. Legend says only the true bearer of the staff can free it."
Elior reached out, staff in hand. "Be free."
In a burst of radiant light, the statue shattered, revealing a majestic bird with golden feathers and glowing eyes.
"From stone I stood through storm and flame," Emberlum sang. "But you, Elior, gave this birdwood wings again."
Moved by its words, Elior asked, "Will you fly with us?"
"I must," the bird replied. "Alone, I would fall to captivity once more."
The three of them soared on.
The third gate rose in the distance—massive and ablaze with red light. Screams echoed beyond it.
"This is the Gate of Embers," Seraphis said solemnly. "Here, all must endure pain before moving forward."
Fear trembled through Elior again. "I… I don't know if I'm ready."
Seraphis handed him a vial of white ointment. "Apply this. It will shield you."
Through the gate they went. The air thickened with smoke. Tormented souls twisted in fire, crying out.
A child wept nearby, tears of blood streaming down his face.
Elior's heart broke. "We must help him!"
"That is no child," Seraphis warned. "Use the staff."
Elior raised it. The "boy" shifted, transforming into a monstrous beast with seven horns. Each bore an inscription glowing like molten fire: Vel'zaroth Ma'karuun, Ek Dravul.
"What does it mean?" Elior whispered.
"I am damned," the beast growled. "I am Velgrith. Every hundred years I rise to kill—so that I may climb from torment."
Recognition struck Elior like lightning. "You… you killed my parents."
Velgrith's eyes flared. "Yes. I've tried to destroy that staff for centuries. Every time, pain multiplied. I thought I'd ended your bloodline. But here you are."
Rage surged. Elior slammed the staff into the ground. "I curse you, Velgrith. May your torment never end. And may Ember forever be the realm of your agony!"
As Velgrith's screams echoed, they crossed into smoke.
A small gate loomed.
"Where are we now?" Elior asked.
"The Fourth Gate," Seraphis said. "The Gate of Stillness. Where body and soul are cleansed before entering Thal'Nora."
They passed through, emerging atop a tranquil mountain. The sky burned with the hues of dusk. There, in silence, they washed, meditated, and prepared—for the path ahead would change the fate of every realm.
To be continued.