Chapter 133
The Elders' Question
The Valley had known silence before. In the time before time, when only whispers of creation hummed through the roots of ancient trees, the silence was full—pregnant with promise.
Now, that silence had returned.
It stretched across the valley's skies and beneath its fertile soil, echoing in the minds of every elder, every spirit, every root and stone. For the child had chosen—not power, not perfection, but truth. And truth has consequences.
In the Circle of Stones, where the first songs of the Valley were once sung, the Council of the Twelve gathered. Clad in robes of dust and memory, they watched the divine child enter the circle barefoot, each step guided by the rhythm of something greater than footsteps. Echo walked beside him, her hands wrapped in flame-kissed linen. Ka'il'a stood behind them both, quiet but unwavering.
Oldest among the Twelve, Elder Ryn—whose beard was braided with ash from fallen stars—spoke first.
> "You are no longer one of us, yet you were born here. You are the Valley's hope, and perhaps its end. What will you do now, child?"
The divine child, whose name had not yet been spoken aloud, looked up at the ring of power and age around him.
> "I will not hide," he said. "Nor will I reign."
Elder Sol, the guardian of spirit beasts, leaned forward.
> "And yet, outside this Valley, the Realms prepare for war. There are eyes watching—gods who remember the last vessel. Factions who would chain you, or worse… shape you. Do you understand what you are to them?"
> "A threat," the child replied. "But only to their lies."
A murmur stirred through the council. A few nodded in grim approval. Others frowned, foreseeing chaos. The child's presence had already rippled through the Realms—heavenly beasts had awakened from long slumber; forbidden sects had begun summoning prophecies buried for millennia. The celestial map itself had altered—constellations bending toward the Valley as if awaiting an unseen event.
Elder Lyari, the weaver of songs, asked softly, "And what of the Valley, child? Will you remain here? Or leave us to face what hunts you?"
The child paused.
Then, slowly, he turned—and looked toward Echo and Ka'il'a, the two mothers who had once fought for him, now bound by something deeper than rivalry.
> "This place gave me roots," he said. "But I am not a tree. I will return—but I must walk beyond it first."
A hush fell across the Circle.
He continued, voice clear as the morning mist:
> "I do not go to war. I go to understand. I will not carry banners, nor forge empires. I will bring unraveling. And when I return—if I return—it will not be as a child, but as the truth the heavens fear."
Ryn closed his eyes. "So be it."
From the sky, soft rain began to fall.
But it wasn't rain.
It was stardust—ash from distant realms already collapsing under the weight of ancient scheming. The Realms had taken notice.
Above, in the citadels of the Nine Veiled Orders…
Within the buried chambers of the Sovereign Flame Court…
Beneath the icy surface of the Broken Moon Sanctum…
Plans awakened.
> The child walks.
> The Valley no longer sleeps.
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Shall i continue with Chapter 134, where Echo and Ka'il'a prepare their parting gifts, and the first emissary of an ancient sect dares enter the Valley to test the child in secret?