Once Betrayed Never Forgotten

Chapter 113: The Druid’s Legacy

Under the dim, flickering lights of the catacombs, the ancient book before us feels almost sacred, a relic untouched by time. Its cover is a dark, rich forest green leather, edges worn smooth from centuries of hidden existence. As I gingerly turn the pages, they rustle softly, thick and textured under my fingertips, infused with the musty, potent aroma of aged paper and ink. Each page is a camas of meticulously detailed illustrations, the colors still vibrant, depicting the sprawling landscapes of the realms.

The script that flows across the pages is a work of art in itself, written in a lively, flowing green ink that twists and spirals like the tendrils of a living vine, It feels as though the words themselves are growing, breathing entities, extending across the parchment in elegant loops and curls. The letters and characters are unfamiliar to me, just beautiful indecipherable gibberish scrawled across the pages.

“Let me,” Pyra says, stepping closer to study the ancient tame’s pages.

“It’s useful having a priestess around,” I say, grateful for her vast knowledge of arcane and forgotten languages.

Pyra leans over the book, her golden eyes scanning the text. This was penned by a Druid of the old faith,” she explains, her voice tinged with reverence. “They were the spiritual servants of the Earth Angel Verde, committed to maintaining balance and harmony within this realm.”

She begins to read aloud, her voice echoing slightly in the vast, stone–walled chamber. “In the time of abundance, our realm thrived under the protection and prosperity granted by our alliance with the Verde vampire clan, and their ruling angel, Verde. The Druids, as servants of the Earth, worked in harmony with these powerful guardians, ensuring the vitality and balance of our realm.”

The illustrations that accompany the text are vivid–depictions of lush, green forests and sprawling meadows, vibrant under the watchful eyes of both Druids and vampires. The unity between them is palpable, symbolized by intertwining motifs of vines and fangs, nature and the night.

“But not all was peaceful,” Pyra continues, her voice growing somber. The next illustration shows a dark, tumultuous scene–flames and shadows clashing. “Envy and greed from the outer realms seeded discord. Our prosperity became our peril, as covetous eyes turned toward the riches and beauty of our lands. It was our strength that drew forth our doom.

She pauses, her finger tracing the lines of an illustrated battle, where ethereal Druids and vampires clashed against shadowy figures, the pages here darker, the ink almost spilling out in sorrow. “The massacre was swift and brutal. Our order was decimated, our sanctuaries defiled. I alone survived, hidden beneath the camage, cowardice my shield, shame my companion.“”

The weight of the Druid’s guilt is palpable in his words, the script here wavering slightly as if his hand trembled as he wrote. Pyra’s voice catches as she translates, her usual composure frayed by the raw emotion of the text.

“The creatures that stole away the Earth Angel were not of this realm,” she reads. “They were shadows, volds of light, their essence as dark as the oblivion they served. Commanded by unseen masters from another realm, they opened a portal and vanished with Verde, taking her to a place devoid of light or life—a realm of shadows, of nothingness.”

The illustration on this page sends a chill down my spine. It shows a portal, dark and ominous, surrounded by the six realms, each spiraling into it, their colors dimming as they approach the center. A void that swallowed all

“The Realm of Nowhere,” Pyra whispers, echoing the text. “A realm unspoken in our histories, unseen in our travels. A shadow realm where aliments

cancel out into sheer vold.”

She flips to the next page, where a diagram depicts six figures, each adorned with a crown representing their respective realms, their h around a swirling black vortex–the portal to this secret seventh realm,

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Pyra translates the Druid’s words penned below the illustration. “After many decades of laborious study in utter solitude, I have formed a theory of sorts. I believe that in order to open up a portal to the Realm of Nowhere, a representative from each of the six realms must assemble, combining their powers to create an anti–portal, a sort of temporary passageway into the land of shadows. As those of royal lineage are traditionally more powerful, the six participants should ideally be nobles, the rightful rulers of their realms. It is only through the meeting of the six streams that the way shall open,”

“The six streams?” I ask.

“Blood streams, perhaps,” Pyra says, before continuing to read the ancient Druid’s words.

“I pray that I shall live long enough to bring this message to those who might free Verde from her imprisonment. May I find forg…

The handwritten text breaks off abruptly, the final words scrawled across the page, ending mid–sentence.

Bloodbane, who had been quietly observing, speaks up. “We already have the rightful heir of the Fiery realm here.” He gestures towards Pyra, who nods solemnly.

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Chapter 113 The Druid’s Legacy

to his fame.

“And of the Earth realm too, right, Kieran? I ask, turning to look at Kieran. He nods, a grim set to

Aleksandr steps closer, his gaze intense. “Anya is the ruler of the Night realm. We should go to her next. We’ll summon the leaders of the remaining realms to meet us there. It’s time for a gathering of the clans.”

As we all absorb the weight of this discovery, I feel the burden of responsibility settling on my shoulders. The manuscript not only revealed the past but also unveiled our path forward–a daunting yet clear directive that required uniting the realms.

The echo of the Druid’s words lingers in the air, a solemn reminder of our quest. The silence that follows is thick, each of us lost in our thoughts, contemplating the journey ahead.

Finally, Kieran breaks the silence, his voice determined. “Then let’s not waste any more time, eh? We have an Earth Angel to find and realms te unite. The sooner we start, the better.”

With a collective nod, we prepare to leave the extacombs, the book carefully wrapped and carried under my arm, its secrets now our guide. As we walk back through the twisting tunnels, the weight of history and the urgency of our task fuel our steps.

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