The wind whispered between the gleaming domes of the Eryndor Empire, as if the very air awaited something monumental.
In the Plaza of Destiny, the crowd stood still, absorbed by the presence of the one who had shaped their fate.
Orion stood serene before his people, radiating a confidence that needed no words—yet he still chose each syllable with precision, as if speaking directly to every soul.
He paused, letting silence reach places voices could not.It was the kind of silence that didn't bring discomfort—only anticipation.Like the moment before dawn.
His gaze moved across every face before him.He didn't see subjects.He saw seeds—of a future blooming with purpose and strength.
"Throughout history" he began, voice soft as velvet but firm as stone, "great empires did not fall at the hands of powerful enemies, but by the rot festering within them."
The words spread like a breeze of wisdom among the masses.
"Greed. Stagnation. Neglect...The ruin begins when an empire forgets its own people.When the nobility drifts from the essence that built its walls.When the flame of courage dies in the warmth of comfort."
Orion walked among the counselors arranged in a semicircle behind him.Each one represented a lineage, a history—a pain turned into living service.
"Eryndor will not repeat these mistakes.Here, the walls are made of each one of you."
He raised his right hand, as if touching the sky.
A golden aura, gentle yet overwhelming, poured from his fingertips—not aggressive, but like dawn spilling across the edges of the world.
"But it is time for more.Time to awaken what years of hunger and humiliation tried to steal from you."
The plaza lit up—as if stars had chosen to descend.
Soft lights enveloped the counselors.Their bodies began to float, surrounded by translucent rings rotating slowly, pulsing in rhythm with the world itself.
The crowd watched.No one spoke.No one moved.
Orion approached Ancar.
A man of tireless spirit, who had never bowed to time—even when his body begged for rest.
Ancar's eyes, once clouded by decades of exhaustion, now burned with a new light.
"Ancar" Orion said, his hand hovering over the elder's chest,"you carried your people on bent shoulders.Today, your spirit will rise again.Today, you will remember who you always were:the guardian who never fell."
A wave of light surged through Ancar's body.
His gray hair darkened like a field at dusk.Youth returned to his features—not as illusion, but as a well-earned restoration.Muscles rebuilt.Bones echoed like forgotten war chants.His soul trembled, stirred by awakened memories and bloodlines.
The earth responded.Roots quivered—as if recognizing an ancient king returning home.
Ancar floated, eyes closed, wrapped in silence.
Then, in one instant, he opened them—and everything changed.
The light he emitted was not merely spiritual.It was as if a thousand generations looked through him.
The process repeated for every counselor.
One, from Shadow Breeze, once marked by exhaustion, became a living spark of elemental balance.Another, from the Pale Mountains, radiated such authority that even space seemed to ripple, as if time itself bowed before their presence.
No transformation was identical.Each, touched by Orion's aura, awakened according to their essence—past, purpose, potential.
Then, the light converged.
With one final breath, the rings of energy dissolved.The counselors descended, landing with ethereal grace.
With a subtle gesture, Orion pierced the veil between common perception and spiritual truth.For a brief moment, the entire populace saw what their counselors had become.
And when the vision faded, its mark remained—engraved in their souls like a living legend.
Orion turned to the crowd.His gaze met Ancar's.
"Now you are ready.Not just to protect the empire…but to lead it beyond the horizons we once feared.
Your bodies know the past.Your souls touch the future."
He extended both hands.
"Receive what has always been yours by birthright."
The crowd erupted.
It was confirmation—something had truly changed.Not just in leadership… but in every heart.
A shared awareness.A gift.
The light that had bathed the counselors left behind more than power—it planted certainty.
Moments later…
The crowd dispersed in gentle waves, like an ocean at peace after the high tide.
Some whispered prayers.Others walked in silence.Many looked up, where the energy of the ceremony had left an invisible mark—an unforgettable reminder.
In alleys, gardens, academies, and fields…the effects began to blossom.
Trainees at the academies noticed a subtle but profound shift:their bodies responded to cultivation with a renewed intimacy—as if the world's energy now recognized them more deeply.
Old limits softened.Spiritual blockages, once deemed permanent, began dissolving—through practice, focus, and guidance.
Among the communities, children displayed uncommon talents.Some resonated with rare elements.Others felt the flow of Aether in trees and rivers.The most sensitive dreamt of ancient symbols—later confirmed in rediscovered records from the Library.
But there was no reckless euphoria.
Orion had instructed the masters:
"Power must never replace character.Strength is given.But responsibility… is chosen."
The elevated leaders remained renewed—in body, spirit, and purpose.
Ancar, most visibly transformed, had not only regained physical youth.His mind had sharpened.His perception refined.
At the first council meeting after the awakening, the tone had shifted.
Where once deliberations were respectful, they now flowed with depth and clarity.Ideas converged effortlessly.Conflicts resolved with less friction—as if ancestral wisdom had merged with present vitality.
But not everything was radiant.
Some counselors faced silent crises.
With forgotten bloodlines awakened, buried memories surfaced—old traumas, secrets, past-life pacts.
Sael, a respected counselor, isolated herself for three days.Haunted by visions of ancient wars, she returned in silence—but her eyes revealed newfound maturity.
Orion did not ask.
He knew:True power only emerges when the soul accepts its own shadow.
For others, the challenge was the opposite.
With new strength came pride, and feelings of invincibility.One counselor, already prideful by nature, began skipping minor meetings—dismissing them with disdain.
"I have transcended petty daily concerns."
Orion noticed, but did not intervene.
Pride, too, was a trial.Each must face it in their own way.
A true empire does not endure by decree—but through awareness.
In the days that followed, Eryndor felt different.
Artisans worked in harmonious rhythm, as if their tools danced with the city's heartbeat.Homes vibrated with serene energy.Fields blossomed as if each flower recognized the invisible celebration.
On the streets, people carried something rare:dignity.
Not arrogance.Not haughtiness.
But a way of being that declared:"We are part of something greater."
At the top of the Central Palace, Orion was alone.
Seated on his throne, hair loosely tied, robes fluttering like wind,he watched the distant rivers, the green valleys, and the living rooftops of Eryndor.
Peace adorned his face.
During the ceremony, when thousands of energies had merged with his, something had surfaced.Not a thought.A memory that had haunted him for days.
It began with a sensation of absolute cold.Not of the skin—but of existence itself.
As if he floated in a void without direction, time, or name.No shape.No color.No time.
Only darkness—but not night.
A void so complete, the very concept of light felt absurd.
Then, something broke the abyss.
Bang.
No sound.
A presence imposing itself.
And then… a voice.
Male.
Immeasurably powerful.
"Let there be light."
Orion blinked.
The memory dissipated—but did not disappear.
"Let there be light…" he murmured.
Something in him recognized that voice.
Or perhaps… the intention behind it.
A calling?An origin?
He furrowed his brow, momentarily lost in the incomprehensible abyss.
He took a deep breath.
The memory remained—silent, like a forgotten bookmark in an ancient text,waiting for the right chapter.
He rose.
From above, he watched his people smiling in the plazas.Children chasing dancing ribbons.Youth training in the fields.Counselors speaking with apprentices.
Yes.
The priority was clear.
The enigma could wait.
The present came first.