The Sovereign's Curse

Suddenly, Aeternis went completely dark, its soft glow vanishing in an instant. Though it continued to hover, it seemed lifeless.

Xander's heart nearly stopped. A cold wave of fear gripped him, tightening his chest to the point where he thought he might have a cardiac arrest.

"Aeternis?" he whispered sharply, his voice trembling. "Aeternis!"

No response.

Panic set in as his eyes darted around the workshop. The dimly lit room seemed to press in on him, every shadow stretching into something sinister. He gripped the bat tighter, sweat forming on his brow.

He turned, half-expecting to see the red-eyed creature—or worse. What kind of force could render Aeternis powerless like this?

Xander's breath came in short bursts, and his legs felt like they might give out beneath him. "Stay calm," he muttered to himself, but his voice betrayed the fear he couldn't suppress.

A low creak sounded from somewhere behind him, freezing him in place. He swung the bat instinctively, though there was nothing there but empty air.

"Aeternis," he tried again, his voice barely above a whisper. "If you're still with me… now's the time to say something."

The silence that followed was deafening, and the oppressive darkness felt like it was swallowing him whole.

In the midst of Xander's panic, a sudden brilliance erupted from Aeternis. Its light flared so intensely that he had to shield his eyes with his hands, the radiance searing through the oppressive darkness.

Then, faintly at first, he heard voices. They were distant yet strikingly familiar, stirring emotions he hadn't felt in years.

Lowering his hands cautiously, Xander opened his eyes. For a moment, he thought he'd been transported somewhere else entirely. The dim, mechanical confines of the workshop had shifted—transformed. But as he looked closer, he realized he was still in the same space, now illuminated by the glow of Aeternis, which was projecting an image midair.

It was a memory.

His breath caught as he turned and saw them—his parents. His mother and father, alive, vibrant, and working together on something.

Xander dropped the bat in shock, the clang echoing faintly around the room. Tears welled up in his eyes as he took an unsteady step forward. His mother... He hadn't seen her in so long, not even in photos, as if keeping her image alive hurt too much. But now, here she was, radiant and full of life, moving with an energy that hit him square in the chest.

She was smiling. They both were. His father looked happier than Xander could ever remember seeing him, his face unburdened by the sternness or distant coldness he'd grown accustomed to. This version of his father was almost unrecognizable—a man who laughed easily, a man who loved.

Xander couldn't help but smile through the tears, his heart aching and full all at once. He had forgotten what it felt like to see them together like this. To see her.

Aeternis pulsed gently, its brilliant light softening as if responding to Xander's emotions. Then, in a voice that was steady yet laced with something almost human—something vulnerable—it called out to him.

"Xander."

The sound of its voice broke through the haze of tears streaming down his face. He wiped his eyes hastily, trying to focus. "Aeternis?" he choked, his voice trembling with emotion.

"I remember now," Aeternis said, its tone quieter, almost reverent. "What I am. My purpose."

Xander froze, his gaze shifting between the holographic projection of his parents and the glowing sphere hovering beside him. His heart pounded, torn between the relief of seeing them together again, even if only in memory, and the weight of Aeternis' cryptic revelation.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice hoarse, barely above a whisper.

Xander took a shaky step closer to the projection of his parents. His mother's smile lingered, frozen in the image.

"There's something you should see," Aeternis said.

This time, it wasn't a shared memory. It was Danielle, alone. She was sitting at a workbench, her face illuminated by the faint glow of tools and devices spread before her. She looked younger but more worn—her eyes shadowed by sleepless nights and deep concern.

"This one," Aeternis said its voice—calm but reverent—echoed around Xander, "was hidden deeper than the rest. She wanted you to see it, Xander."

Danielle leaned toward something just out of view, her hands fidgeting nervously. Then she looked straight ahead, as if addressing Xander directly.

"Xander, my son," her voice was soft but laced with urgency, "I pray you never have to see this but if you you do end up seeing this… it means I failed you, and you most certainly found Aeternis. I wish I could tell you everything, but there are things even I don't fully understand."

Her eyes wavered, tears threatening to spill, but she held firm.

"You're special, Xander. Not because of our family name or your ambitions, but because of something far greater than you or me. Forces beyond this world are moving, and you are at the center of it all."

Xander's breath hitched. The warmth of her voice made his heart ache, but the weight of her words was suffocating.

"There will come a time when you must make choices that feel impossible. When you'll question who you are and what you stand for. Trust yourself, Xander. Trust what's in your heart. But—"

Her expression darkened, her gaze hardening like steel.

"Beware of the shadows that lurk between worlds. They wear many faces. Some you'll recognize. Some you won't. They'll promise you everything, but their only desire is destruction. And if they succeed—" She hesitated, as though dreading what she had to say. "If they succeed, they'll make a weapon out of you."

The image flickered. Danielle's voice wavered as static filled the air.

"No! Not now," Xander whispered, stepping closer.

Danielle seemed to sense the fading memory. Her hands clenched the edges of the table. "I know this is a lot to take in, but you'll understand in time. Aeternis will guide you, in time you'll understand what it is, it's a piece of my hope for you. Don't let them take it from you, Xander. Whatever you do—"

The image froze for a moment before a piercing whine filled the void.

Aeternis, hovering beside Xander, began to vibrate violently, its glow stuttering like a dying star.

"Aeternis?" Xander reached out instinctively.

"I… I don't understand," Aeternis stammered. Its voice, usually so composed, sounded fragmented. "Something is interfering. I—my systems are—"

The projection cracked like glass. The memory of Danielle shattered into a thousand shards, scattering into darkness.

"No! Bring it back!" Xander yelled, trying to grab at the fading pieces.

Aeternis pulsed erratically. "Xander, I… I can't—"

The sphere said before it went completely dark. Again.

Holding Aeternis, Xander knelt on the cold workshop floor, staring at the lifeless sphere in his palm. His vision blurred with tears, his chest tight with frustration and despair. "Why?" he whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. "Why can't I just catch a break? Why does something always have to go wrong when things finally feel... right?"

The silence in the workshop was deafening, pressing down on him like a weight he couldn't shake. He looked around, hoping for some kind of sign or explanation, but the room offered nothing.

His thoughts raced back to the last time Aeternis had malfunctioned—when it sensed a presence. His stomach churned. Was the same entity here now? The idea of something lurking nearby, interfering with Aeternis and leaving him vulnerable, sent a shiver up his spine.

Xander forced himself to his feet, gripping the black bat tightly in one hand and tucking Aeternis into his pocket with the other. His trembling fingers wiped away the lingering tears from his cheeks, but the ache in his chest remained, raw and unrelenting.

He glanced around the room one last time, the memory of his parents' faces replaying in his mind. For a fleeting moment, he had felt a warmth he hadn't known in years. Now, it was gone, leaving behind a hollow sadness that threatened to consume him.

Reaching the entrance of the workshop, he hesitated, his hand resting against the wall. He turned back, his gaze sweeping over the space as if trying to hold onto what had just happened, to convince himself it was real. His mother's smile, his father's rare laughter—it was more than a memory. It felt like a connection, something tangible, and now it was slipping away.

With heavy, deliberate steps, Xander climbed the stairwell, each step a battle against the sadness clawing at his insides. The weight of everything—the secrets, the questions, the loss—pressed down harder with each movement. By the time he reached the hallway, he felt as though his legs could barely carry him.

The hallway was dim so it was easy for Xander to see that the lights in his Father's office were lit. Xander stopped in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat. His brows furrowed. It wasn't like that before.

A chill ran down his spine, and his fingers instinctively tightened around the bat.

Someone's here. The thought rang in his mind like an alarm. His heart began to race, but his feet stayed rooted to the ground.