Chaosbound: Elarith Chronicles

The Luminary's Sanctum

The air in Lumiel's chamber was thick with the scent of ozone and something akin to a burning forest. He lay submerged in a pool of liquid light, the swirling currents of fate and chaos a mesmerizing ballet around his form. Golden threads of belief from the churches wove into the pool, their light calming the turbulent, purple energy of the chaos harvested by the Menis. Lumiel's eyes were closed, a serene smile on his lips as he savored the dual energies.

A heavy, deliberate footfall echoed through the cavernous space. Dainoric, a massive figure encased in obsidian armor etched with glowing crimson runes, moved with the quiet grace of a man who knew his power. His presence seemed to pull the very air out of the room.

"My Lord Lumiel," Dainoric's voice was a low, grinding rumble. "I bring bad news."

"Ah, if it isn't my loyal commander and tactician," Lumiel's voice was a melodic hum, his eyes still closed. "Speak, Dainoric. Don't leave me waiting."

"The Thyranthe is once again disrupting the chaos corruption," Dainoric said, his frustration palpable. "He's killed countless of our Menis and is causing our followers to doubt the churches. He's dividing the fate, my lord."

A soft, mocking laugh escaped Lumiel's lips. "My precious little chaos vessel. I told you, leave him be."

Dainoric's posture stiffened. "But he has destroyed so much of what we've built."

"So little faith in me, Dainoric," Lumiel said, opening his eyes. They glowed with an unnerving, golden light. "You know I admire your wits. It was your vision that created the Luminaries. You are their foundation."

Dainoric knelt, the sound of his armor a scrape against the stone floor. "I do not deserve such praise, my lord."

"Of course you do. But regarding the chaos vessel, I'll leave him to you. No one else in our ranks could defeat him, anyway." Lumiel's tone grew serious. "Even I can't interfere directly. My hands are tied. The Steward of the Warrior God is watching me. The Mother Root is also stirring against me." He chuckled to himself. "Not that I truly care. They will all bow to me eventually."

As if responding to his words, a flicker disturbed the flow of energy into the pool. Lumiel's gaze sharpened. "There are disturbances to the energies. What is it?"

"Rumors have been spreading, my lord," Dainoric said, rising. "We've confirmed a territory is being built at an impossible pace in the southeastern quadrant. We can't pinpoint its exact location; it's as if it doesn't exist. We believe they are the remnants of the Abyssals."

"Ah," Lumiel said, his eyes scanning the shadows. "Perhaps our friend here has some information about that."

A woman stepped from the deepest part of the shadows. Lyra was a vision of perfection, but her movements were unnervingly graceful, almost liquid. "Oh, it's beautiful here, Lumiel! The room you gave me is so wonderful, and the flowers... are those Nightbloom Irises? Their scent is divine!" She glided across the hall, admiring the opulence with a theatrical flourish.

"Dainoric," Lumiel said, a hint of disdain in his voice. "This is Lyra. It was her who gave us the locations of her siblings' bases and networks."

"Of course, my lord," Dainoric's voice was flat. "Thanks to her, we were able to purge most of the Abyssals."

Lyra giggled, the sound like glass wind chimes. "Poor creatures. They were so hideous; they deserved it."

"Lyra, my dear," Lumiel said, his tone gentle but with a hard edge. "Dainoric is concerned about the remaining Abyssals. Do you know where they are?"

Lyra ran a finger over the silky petals of an iris. "I think you're referring to Vyran, Lysara, and Nephra. Lysara I can forgive; she's a beauty. Vyran is a cute boy. And Nephra... I hated that guy. He was so creepy. I'm glad you removed my psychic link with them. I never liked it."

She paused, a distant look in her eyes. "I remember Seron once told me about a place where Vyran always played with his toys. He called it Arkhanis. A hidden kingdom of some sort. He never invited me, not even once. Fool boy."

"Arkhanis," Lumiel murmured. "A kingdom. Thank you, Lyra. That will be all. I've had some new clothes brought to your room. I'm sure you'll love them."

"Really? Oh, you're so generous! That's why I like you the most!" Lyra's eyes sparkled. "I'll go now!" She skipped away, humming to herself.

Dainoric watched her go, his hand moving toward his blade. "My lord, do you wish for us to dispose of her now? Brother Karthas can do the deed."

"No, not yet. I want to play with her for a while," Lumiel said with a sly smile. "Perhaps we can send her to her siblings and watch them fight. She's an anomaly among the Abyssals, obsessed with beauty. She's easy to control, easy to fool. For now, let her be."

"As you wish, my lord."

"As for Aurel... avoid him. A direct confrontation would be a waste of our Menis. For now, he is playing right into my hand." Lumiel's gaze hardened. "But Arkhanis... get rid of it."

"As you wish."

Aurel's Territory

Miles away, the air was alive with the sound of grinding stone and the hum of arcane energy. Nephra, looking perfectly at ease, sat on a finely crafted bench, sipping tea. He was a stark contrast to the industrious chaos around him.

A young man bounded toward him, radiating a nervous, frenetic energy. "Brother! Brother, check this out!" Vyran was all enthusiasm. "We've finished the third defensive layer in Sector Three. The armory is stocked, and the CH-units in Sector Nine are fully deployed!" He stopped suddenly, noticing the contemplative look on Nephra's face. "What are you thinking about?"

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"Have a seat, brother," Nephra said, gesturing to the space beside him. "I think it's time to activate 'Operation Shattered Throne.'"

Vyran's face went from excited to serious in an instant. "Now? Is it time already?"

"I believe so," Nephra said, a heavy sigh escaping him. "Lumiel still hasn't made a move against Aurel, despite all of his harvesting. That fool sister of ours has likely given him the location of Arkhanis. I'm sorry, brother."

Vyran shook his head, a wry smile on his face. "Don't worry. Arkhanis is a kingdom we built together, but it's not our only home. We'll build our new one right here in Aurel's domain, and this time, we'll help him take the offensive."

"I'll have Aric informed," Nephra said, his hand reaching for a communicator. "He will proceed with 'Operation Heartseeker.'"

A boy, who had been standing in the shadows, seemed to appear from thin air. "Ah, Whiz," Nephra said, "we're going to need your help this time."

Whiz stepped forward, his expression passive. "Brother, must you interfere with this realm so much? You've been playing for far too long. Why don't you let Aurel handle it all?"

Vyran stared, a jolt of alarm going through him. Who is this guy? He looks so young, and I didn't sense his presence at all. What is he?

Nephra saw the confusion on Vyran's face. "Ah, my apologies, brother. This is Whiz. He'll be helping Aric retrieve the Swordking's Heart. Lysara has already identified its location."

"I'm doing a quick errand for Sybris first, Nephra," Whiz said. "I'll let you know when I'm ready." He gave a slight nod toward Vyran, then stepped back into the shadows and vanished.

"Brother Vyran," Nephra said, "I'm sorry you weren't aware of my plans."

"I never doubted you, Nephra. I always knew you were different," Vyran said, a mix of curiosity and sadness in his eyes. "I know you're not really one of us—not an Abyssal."

Nephra's shoulders slumped slightly, his confident facade cracking. "Is Lysara aware of it?"

Vyran nodded slowly.

Nephra shook his head, a fond smile on his face. "Oh, well. I'll tell you everything in time. But for now, rest assured, I would never forsake you, our sister Lysara, or Aurel. You are all I have left."

The Umbrafang's Camp

Aric, a man whose age was etched into his face like a battle map but whose body remained as solid as a fortress, received a communication. Nephra's face materialized in a shimmer of light from the device.

"Hello, Aric," Nephra's voice was calm and serious. "We are activating Operation Shattered Throne."

"It's earlier than you predicted," Aric replied. "So 'Operation Heartseeker' is a go as well?"

"Yes, it's a go," Nephra confirmed. "How is our little green guy?"

"Little?" Aric snorted. "More like massive."

From behind Aric, a figure with a colossal frame and emerald skin groaned. "Second Master, I'm hungry. Can I take a break now?"

Aric didn't even turn his head. "You won't get any food until you finish the third level of your Divine Fist training."

The green-skinned giant grumbled. "I swear, you're more devilish than Master Aurel."

Nephra chuckled through the device. "He sounds lively. We'll be ready in three days, Nephra."

"Wishing you luck," Nephra said. "We're almost done here with Aurel's territory. Over and out." The image of his face vanished.

Aurel has come a long way, Aric thought, even Nephra is serving him now.

"Umbrafang, on your feet!" Aric's voice boomed. A host of new faces, including a noticeably larger Kirin, snapped to attention. "Operation Heartseeker is activated."

"We are ready, sir!" they replied in unison.

Aric scanned his troops, a sense of purpose settling over him. This was the moment they had been preparing for.

"Damn," a voice drawled from a nearby log. Arkan, a lazy smirk on his face, chewed on a blade of grass. "Never thought we'd be working with these people. Oh well. I'll send the message to my boss."

The Unveiling of Arkhanis

Three days later, the air in Aurel's domain crackled with anticipation.

Vyran's face, usually a mask of youthful enthusiasm, was etched with worry. He stood before Nephra, his hands clenched into fists. "Brother," he said, his voice taut, "I've received urgent news from Lysara. As you predicted, the Luminaries are making their move. They've located Arkhanis."

Nephra calmly took a sip of his tea. "I had hoped Aurel would keep the Athenari busy and cause some more chaos, but this will serve as an even better distraction. Don't you think?"

Vyran's mind raced, a whirlwind of memories and fears. He pictured their old leader, Kaelith, and a voice from the past echoed in his thoughts. A full-frontal war will only bring us chaos beings to eradication. Vyran's jaw tightened. "I'm sorry, Brother Kaelith," he murmured under his breath. "It's now or never." He closed his eyes for a moment, the weight of the decision settling on his shoulders. If all else fails, Aurel must be our last hope. He held onto the faith that Nephra had planted in him.

Opening his eyes, Vyran met Nephra's gaze, the worry on his face replaced by a fierce, unyielding resolve.

"It's war."

The Floating City

Far to the south, the very landscape of Arkhanis began to tremble. A low hum, growing steadily in volume, filled the air, a sound that resonated deep in the bones of those who heard it. The once-stately kingdom, known for its elegant spires and lush gardens, was preparing for battle. The people of the kingdom had already been evacuated, their homes now silent and empty.

Slowly, impossibly, the earth-bound city began to rise. Cracks appeared in the ground as massive, crystalline thrusters, dormant for centuries, ignited with a pulse of chaos energy. The grand, circular plaza at the city's heart began to split, its sections pulling apart and rotating, transforming the kingdom's graceful geometry into the brutal, angular form of a fortress. Towers slid into reinforced slots, bridges retracted, and the once-peaceful dome over the main palace folded inward, becoming a hardened command center. The entire structure, a masterpiece of fusion between ancient artistry and forbidden technology, ascended into the sky.

This wasn't just one fortress. Four others, hidden across the southern continent, rose to join it, their forms equally bizarre and imposing. What was once a scattered collection of hidden sanctuaries was now a fleet of five flying citadels, an impossible sight against the blue sky.

From the land below, panic erupted. The strange, hovering fortresses were an unimaginable sight. An old farmer dropped to his knees, his face pale with terror. "What are those things?" he whispered, his eyes wide.

"The rumors are true," a woman next to him said, her voice shaking. "The dark lord has started his moves." Many fled, thinking it was the end of the world. But others watched, a different kind of light in their eyes.

Inside the primary command center, Vyran sat before a console of shifting light and carved crystal. He was the nerve center of this behemoth, remotely controlling the fortress. Around him, other Abyssal engineers worked, their fingers dancing over glowing runic arrays that monitored and controlled every automated function of the fortresses. There was no need for living beings on the fortresses themselves.

A voice, thick with emotion, escaped Vyran's lips. "We will avenge you, Seron, Caeryn, Malgrin, Zorran, and Kaelith."

In a hidden alley far to the west, a grizzled veteran of old wars felt a strange tingle on his forearm. He pulled back his sleeve to reveal a glowing tattoo. The symbol of a shattered crown pulsed with light. "Operation Shattered Throne is on," he said, a grim smile on his face.

The signal rippled across the continent. In the snow-capped mountains of the east, a hermit tending to a fire saw the embers flare and form the same symbol. In a forgotten swamp in the south, a shaman's ceremonial staff began to glow, its crystal head humming with power. The message was sent not through airwaves, but through the very fabric of the world, connecting those who had been waiting.

From the dark corners of the world, a thousand forgotten lights began to stir, preparing a surprise for the Luminaries.

The hunters were about to become the hunted.