Bridging Worlds: Book 1 Celestoria's Time
Winds of Rebellion

-Grim Waste-

In the Darkbanes Tribe Territory, a clandestine meeting was underway. A group of rebellious mages, their faces obscured by shadows, gathered in a dimly lit chamber. As they exchanged murmurs, one man stepped forward, his expression tense.

“Vernit,” the man spoke, addressing their leader, “there’s news. A battle is raging, but it wasn’t sanctioned by us.”

Vernit’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, his features contorting into a scowl. “What do you mean? We agreed to avoid further warfare. Elysum pledged to cease these senseless conflicts.”

The informant hesitated before delivering the unsettling revelation, “It’s your twin brother, Elysum. He’s disobeyed your orders and initiated an attack against the Eclipsarians. It seems he’s determined to prove our tribe’s strength and expand our lands.”

Vernit’s jaw clenched in frustration. The delicate agreement forged between the brothers had been shattered by Elysum’s reckless ambitions. Calling for his adopted son, Rojan, Vernit’s voice resonated with a mix of anger and disappointment.

“Rojan!” Vernit bellowed, summoning his adopted son, a young and promising mage. Rojan, sensing the urgency in Vernit’s voice, quickly approached. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the FindNʘᴠᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Yes, Vernit?” Rojan inquired, ready for whatever command awaited him.

“Elysum has betrayed our agreement. He’s taken matters into his own hands and initiated a war. Gather a few men; we’re heading to the battleground. This needs to be addressed immediately.” Vernit said.

Rojan’s expression mirrored Vernit’s frustration. “Right away!”

With a sense of urgency, Vernit and Rojan, accompanied by a small group of mages, set forth toward the unfolding chaos. The air in Grim Waste crackled with tension as the rebels moved swiftly through the shadows, their minds focused on the unexpected conflict that threatened to unravel the delicate balance they had worked so hard to maintain. The journey to the battleground echoed with the urgency of unspoken words and the weight of looming confrontation.

In the ominous shadow of the Silverbark Forest, the battleground evolved into a brutal convergence of elemental cruelty and razor-edged steel. Elysum, the lightning mage, conducted storms that crackled with raw power, illuminating the battlefield in flashes of blinding light. Bolts of lightning lashed out with a ferocity that matched the cruelty on the ground, striking down foes in blinding flashes.

Elysum engaged in a gruesome dance of steel, his sword flickering with electric energy. With each slash, the air sizzled with the scent of burning ozone. In a macabre display of cruelty, he deftly combined lightning-infused swordplay with the fluid motions of a master swordsman, aiming not only to defeat but to inflict visceral pain upon his enemies.

Rebellious mages on both sides, water manipulation at their command, conjured torrents that clashed with the storm. Razor-sharp blades of water cut through the air, creating a grotesque symphony as they mingled with the currents of electricity. Throats were slashed open, and the metallic scent of blood mixed with the splats of water, creating a gruesome tableau beneath the ancient Silverbark leaves.

Mages of elemental forces, conjured gusts of wind that carried the acrid scent of burning trees. As the lightning mage Elysum continued his deadly dance, the battleground transformed into a nightmarish convergence of elemental power, ruthless swordplay, and the tormenting illusions of the mind. The ancient Silverbark Forest bore witness to the brutal fusion of nature’s elements and the darker instincts of those who sought dominance, leaving a scarred landscape in the wake of the unforgiving forces of lightning and the agony of steel.

The soldiers of Celestoria thundered through the forest, their horses kicking up dirt and leaves in their haste. As they approached the outskirts of the battlefield, a lone figure stumbled towards them, blood seeping from a grievous wound on his left shoulder. An arrow protruded grotesquely, a testament to the fierce battle that raged on.

General Oromon, the leader of the Celestorian forces, reined in his horse with urgency as the injured soldier staggered towards them. Swiftly dismounting, he caught the wounded man, concern etched across his features.

“What happened?” Oromon demanded, his voice a mix of worry and anger. The soldier, weakened but determined, managed to convey the grim news. “The Darkbanes, led by Vernit, broke the peace treaty. They used an unknown artifact, disrupting our mage magic. We are outnumbered, General, and unable to wield our full power.”

The injured soldier succumbed to the darkness, unconsciousness claiming him. Oromon’s gaze hardened, fury coursing through his veins. “How can they turn back on their words?” he seethed, his fists clenching with indignation. Turning to one of his soldiers, he commanded, “Get this man back to the palace. We need him healed and to inform the council of this betrayal.”

Mounting his horse with a swift and purposeful motion, General Oromon’s eyes blazed with determination. “Prepare yourselves,” he bellowed to his troops. “We ride into a battle not of our choosing, but one we shall finish. For Celestoria!” With that, he spurred his horse forward, galloping towards the heart of the conflict, the urgent rhythm of hooves matching the pounding of his resolute heart.

The battlefield crackled with the residue of lightning and the echo of clashing swords, a discordant symphony of war. Amidst the chaos, Vernit, the leader of the Darkbanes, arrived on the scene, riding a horse charged with the crackling energy of his lightning magic. His eyes bore a mix of concern and frustration as he witnessed the mayhem orchestrated by his brother, Elysum.

“What are you doing, Brother?” Vernit questioned with a mix of disbelief and disappointment as he approached Elysum. Lightning danced in the air, illuminating the grim tableau of the ongoing battle.

Elysum, unfazed, continued his relentless assault, stabbing an adversary without acknowledging Vernit’s presence. “This is our fight,” he declared with a twisted determination, “we’ll win this battle, and we will be feared!”

Vernit, realizing the gravity of the situation, had no choice but to intervene. With a decisive tone, he commanded, “Rojan, bring the Etherweave Veil.” Rojan, the young man loyal to Vernit, swiftly handed over the artifact.

Vernit conjured lightning, creating a luminous division between the warring factions of Darkbanes and Eclipsarians. Then, with a deliberate motion, he used the Etherweave Veil to manifest a barrier, a shimmering ethereal wall that separated the two tribes and halted their engagement.

“Enough!” Vernit’s voice thundered across the battlefield. He turned to his men, stopping them from battling further and threatening those who obeyed Elysum. “Stand down! This is not the path we agreed upon.”

The followers of Elysum, caught in a conflict between their loyalty and Vernit’s orders, found themselves in a moment of indecision. Despite the hesitation among his ranks, Elysum stood resolute and defiant. “Absolutely not! We must eliminate them immediately. If the Eclipsarians go back to their land, they’ll report to King Altair, and your peace treaty is effectively nullified. So, why should we halt our advances now?”

Vernit, unwavering in his determination, declared, “I command you, as the tribe’s leader, to cease this immediately.” Elysum, driven by a thirst for power and dominion, responded with a deranged laugh, dismissing his brother’s authority.

Rojan, the previously silent young man, finally spoke up. “Instilling fear won’t secure our place in this world. Vernit aimed to halt the conflict.”

Enraged by Rojan’s opposition, Elysum countered, “Who are you to dictate my actions? You are but a mere beggar taken in by my brother, yet you presume to speak with authority.”

Tensions reached a boiling point, and just as Rojan was poised to respond, Vernit intervened with a raised hand and a stern command: “Enough, both of you.” The battlefield hushed, awaiting the unfolding of the next critical events.

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