My Descendants Are My Power

Even in the depths of autumn, a fierce blizzard raged, blanketing the world in a pristine white shroud.

A lone figure trudged through the blinding snow, his back bent under the weight of a woman he carried.

In one hand, he clutched a sword case, in the other, a sturdy staff.

Behind them, a trail of footprints stretched back into the swirling whiteness, a testament to their arduous journey.

Finally, his strength gave out.

He gently lowered the woman to the ground, collapsing beside her, his breath forming clouds of frost in the frigid air.

With numb fingers, he sculpted a mound of snow, shaping it into the familiar form of the Blackwood ancestral altar, etching the clan's emblem into its surface.

The woman, her face pale and drawn, her body wracked with pain, stirred, her eyes fluttering open.

She gazed at Lucas, her voice a whisper lost in the howling wind.

"Another relapse? Still clinging to your silly rituals?"

"I'm alright," Lucas replied, his voice calm, his breath frosting in the air.

"It's cold, but we're Blackwood tough. You, on the other hand… you shouldn't push yourself. You were already wounded from the battle with the Druids. And then, five years ago, you used the last of your power to get us here… to this frozen wasteland."

He bowed his head, his gaze fixed on the snow altar.

It was the day of the ancestral festival, a day for celebration, for remembrance.

But now, all he had were memories and a heart filled with a longing he couldn't express.

Diana frowned, her gaze lingering on Lucas's bowed form.

"I'll never understand you Blackwoods. Even now, facing oblivion, you cling to your traditions, your… faith."

"You wouldn't understand," Lucas replied, his voice filled with a quiet conviction.

"I believe my family is still out there, somewhere. Lost, but not forgotten. As long as our faith endures, there's hope."

He looked up, his gaze meeting hers.

"You said… you said that if we kept going north, to the edge of the world, we would find your birthplace. That my wounds would heal. Was that… was that the truth?"

Diana hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly, before nodding.

She had seen the carnage, the utter devastation of that day.

Rescuing Lucas was all she could manage.

For five years, she had endured his relentless optimism, his unwavering belief that somewhere, beyond the frozen horizon, lay salvation.

His wounds had never fully healed, but she could sense it: his swordsmanship, honed by years of relentless training, was growing stronger, sharper, fueled by a determination that defied logic.

"Forebearer," Lucas whispered, his voice filled with a fervent hope.

"Do you hear me? My wounds will heal. I know it. Father, Mother, Amelia, Julian, Olivia… they're alive. I know it."

He bowed his head once more, his voice thick with emotion.

"I've walked for five years, Forebearer. I'll walk for fifty, for five hundred, if I have to. I won't give up."

Diana had witnessed the fall of empires, the rise and fall of countless civilizations.

But she had never seen anything like this.

Lucas, despite the weight of his loss, the uncertainty of their future, refused to surrender to despair.

He pushed forward, his body battered but his spirit unbroken, his determination a reflection of the Blackwood clan's indomitable will.

She didn't understand his faith, his unwavering belief in something she couldn't see or touch.

But then, she saw it: a smile, the first genuine smile she had seen on his face in five long years.

The snow altar shimmered, a faint golden light emanating from its surface.

Two words appeared, etched in glowing script:

[We are safe.]

[Diana, fearing Lucas would return to Cloudview County, had fabricated a story, a white lie, telling him that her birthplace lay at the edge of the frozen north.]

[Your descendant, Lucas, clinging to hope, has gained the trait: Unwavering Belief.]

[He knows it's a lie, but he chooses to believe. It's the only light in the darkness, the only thing that keeps him going. And as long as he believes, his swordsmanship will continue to grow stronger.]

"Forebearer!" Lucas cried, his eyes shining brighter than the snow that surrounded them.

"You answered me! Diana was right! There's still hope!"
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Diana blinked, her gaze fixed on the glowing altar.

Lucas's Forebearer… it was real.

A power she couldn't comprehend, a connection that transcended the physical realm.

And…

And it was a fool. An even bigger fool than Lucas.

…

"You're… you're alive."

Across the world, the Blackwood descendants knelt before their Forebearer Talismans, their hearts filled with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

Ethan saw them all.

Nathan, standing on a cliff overlooking the Endless Forest, the wind whipping at his hair, his eyes fixed on the distant horizon.

Luna, bathed in the silvery light of the Morning Star, her six tails swirling around her, her gaze filled with a quiet determination.

Amelia, wandering alone across a vast, windswept prairie, her expression lost, her heart heavy with grief.

Olivia, drifting among the clouds, her body seemingly weightless, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.

Mary, still kneeling before Crystal Crest, her prayers unanswered, her hope fading with each passing day.

Daniel, transformed, his identity erased, his memories replaced, now ruling Phillips as King Bryce, his true self buried deep within.

Donna, riding atop a colossal Exploding Sky Serpent, battling monstrous creatures in the depths of the ocean, her rage a force of nature.

And Edward, trapped in a cage within Sunshine Mansion, his body bound by Heavenly Path's magic, his gaze fixed on his tormentor, his spirit unbroken.

And the thirteen Blackwood youths, imprisoned within the Heavenly Path Psychic Sanctuary, their fates uncertain, their hopes dwindling.

The Forebearer Talismans pulsed with warmth, their light a beacon in the darkness.

They were scattered, lost, their hearts heavy with grief and uncertainty.

But they were alive.

Ethan understood now.

Survival, in the face of such overwhelming loss, required a strength that defied logic, a belief that transcended reason.

They were out there, scattered across the world, clinging to the faintest glimmer of hope.

Just as he had told Heavenly Path, it wasn't over.

It had just begun.

Glory City remained frozen in time, a poignant reminder of what had been lost.

But the darkness wouldn't last forever.

Dawn would come, and with it, the promise of a new beginning.

"We're coming for you, Heavenly Path," Ethan whispered, his gaze fixed on the distant spires of Sunshine Mansion, his voice filled with a chilling certainty.

"A storm is coming. And this time… we won't be so easily broken."