Chapter Seventy-Two
: The time has come, beloved granddaughter. Awaken.
My awareness rose through the deep sea of unconsciousness, growing lighter and lighter as my mind came closer to the surface. I felt the finalisation sweep through my mind with heavy and mourning acceptance.
The Cataclysm.
And so much more.
I understood everything.
Everything except one.
: Why . . .? Why do you call me, granddaughter, Aion? My telepathic voice sighed as my body slowly woke again.
: Because that is what you are. My blood and flesh. Sudryl is my true son. You and Julius are my true grandchildren. You are divine in blood and soul, my creations, my avatars to correct my mistakes, to do what I cannot.
: What can you not do?
: Save my world.
I understood, at last, why my eyes were the same as Sudryl's and Julius's. Sudryl was indeed my biological father. And Julius, truly was Aion's Vessel. He had every right, both divine and biological, to become God.
My eyes opened to a peaceful and silent world beneath the water, encased within a gentle, protective cocoon of Julius's Weave. Powerful it was, able to defend against the greatest of foes, but programmed to dissolve upon my eventual awakening.
I had almost hoped that I would never waken again, because if I did not wake, then I would not have to carry out the Destiny which had been assigned to my very existence. Though I loved Aion as my God, I also hated Him.
He asked the impossible.
But there was no one else who could do it. No one else but me.
Julius's Destiny was to save the world. It was my Destiny to ensure it happened. If I failed, then the world died. Everyone and everything would perish, including Julius.
My love and desire to protect him was greater than the piercing horror of betrayal which I knew would fill his eyes. It was a horror he would come to wear, once he realised what I had realised.
I could not keep my oath.
My very existence, defied the oath I made on my necklace.
The Julius of my time, Julius Atherton, knew it. He had worked it out in the following centuries leading up to my eventual birth. Everything he had done, had been to blind and deafen me from my Fate. Everything he did, had been designed to keep me in the dark, protected from my Destiny. He would have succeeded as well, if I had not been catapulted into the past by Aion to learn the truth.
I rose up from the lake, and settled myself along its shores, staring back down into the deep blue waters of my two hundred year slumber.
My heart felt like it was breaking, and I sank to my knees as my eyes watered in silence. The tears dripped into the lake.
How could it come to this? I thought in grief. How could you do this to us, Aion? How could you do this to Julius? Him of all people?
Aion heard my despair, and His awareness flitted over me, gently. Not like all of those occasions where He had boomed instructions in my head. This time, Aion's touch was gentle, with sorrow.
: Because you are both the strongest. He is the strongest.
: He will never forgive you. And he will never forgive me. I gritted my teeth as I pressed my hands against my face.
: He has no choice. Neither of you ever did. You are both the strongest, because you are also the cursed. I am . . . sorry, Beralin. There is no other way.
Aion's voice was Woven with remorse, which broke my heart further, to realise that Aion indeed could still feel emotions. His burden was as heavy as Julius's and mine.
Because none of us had a choice.
I dragged myself to my feet, and turned my gaze to the manor, ignoring the Tower for just a moment longer, before I knew I had to set off. My feet were like lead as I walked through the familiar and homey corridors. I did not stop my tears from falling, from knowing that this would be the last time I would walk this home.
I made my way to Julius's hidden and private study, where I entered it and looked down over his desk. I had been in here a few times after I revealed to Julius I knew about it. But it was today, that it looked exactly the same as the first time I laid eyes on it, eight hundred and seventy years ago.
At Julius's desk, I sat down within his chair, hunched over with a heaviness I felt I could not rise from. Hopeless despair weighed down upon my shoulders, as my tear-filled eyes gazed at the portrait of Thalia.
Like Yvannia, Thalia gave her life to protect and save mine. The weight of their sacrifice was soul-crushing. Though I had learnt to forgive myself for Yvannia's Displacement, I could not forgive myself for Thalia's.
She was Sudryl's wife. She was Julius's mother. And she had become my mother.
There were so many people who's forgiveness I wished I could ask for. So many I knew I had no right to ask for. Thalia's was one of them.
And the greatest one, would be coming soon.
With a miserable exhalation, I opened Julius's drawers one by one.
Just as I remembered, the first draw held Julius's quill, inkwell, and paper. The second drawer, held extremely classified files on military proceedings, strategic plans and troop deployments.
The third drawer, held Thalia's simple, but elegant hairpin, and Julius's leather journal. I touched neither of them, letting only my eyes linger as the weight grew only heavier.
"I can't," I whispered. "I can't do this."
It was to heavy. I could not even straighten my defeated posture. I could not get up. I did not want to get up.
: You must, Aion said. You time here is ending.
I managed to raise my head up enough to glance at the clock on the mantelpiece.
Quarter past two in the afternoon. The hands had read quarter past three when I first discovered Julius's manor in the Abyss, frozen eternally on the hour the Abyss had been born and the world shattered.
One hour. I had one hour.
: Get up. You must get up, Beralin.
I sighed, bowing my head once more as I closed the drawers one by one. I looked up enough to reach out and hold Thalia's picture frame.
We had started off dubious and suspicious of each other. But as time went on, our relationship grew into friendship, and then family. She gave her life for mine, her repayment of her debt to me.
I could not allow any more lives to be taken for my sake. The guilt was too much to bear. Any more, and I would collapse beneath its weight, as I did after Kurngalfberg.
But the Cataclysm . . . could I really not prevent it? Was there not some way I could advert this catastrophe? If the Tower stayed whole, then it would never be broken, Julius and I would not have to fulfil the prophecy. Julius would not have to bear the horror of what it was he would have to do when I finally returned to my time of origin.
Against the glass of the picture frame, I found myself staring at my reflection.
My long, thick hair was still white, my skin still sickly pale, evidenced of the life-force which Julius's almost-ascension had taken. The horror of what he had done, broke and destroyed him. I had fallen into my comatose state, listening to the heart-breaking sound of his weeping.
I could not make him go through that again.
I would not. I would not!
Which therefore meant just one thing then.
Protect the Tower today. Stop it from shattering.
My resolve hardened, and I felt my strength return. Though my hair and skin would forever remain white, the glow of the emerald fire returned to my eyes.
: You cannot stop the inevitable, Aion warned as I sat up and placed Thalia's frame back on the desk.
: You don't know that, I thought back, wiping my tears away as I stood, jaw clenched. Desperation in my heart gave me strength. Denial. Denying what had to be done. I could advert it. I was strong enough now. I had to be.
No matter what it took, I would protect Julius at all costs. I never wanted him to experience such grief again. If it meant defying time itself, then I would.
I had to try!
I strode out from the manor, plaiting my hair down my shoulder as I went, before flipping the long and messy white braid down the length of my back. Once outside, my blades materialised in my hands, I turned my burning gaze up to the Tower of Eternity.
Its Aetheric Field hummed out of existence, powering down to open the way for the Dragon Lords who rode on the great storm which blanketed the sky in turbulent darkness.
Their force of presence was suffocating, overbearing, bringing with them a toxic fume which tightened my chest, cowed the plants which had once stood tall, and silenced the song of birds, as nature itself shied away from Aion's greatest mistake.
The Balaur.
How could the Seraphim Lords possibly think the Dragon Lords would accept peace? As I watched the five great shadows fly through the storm, I realised how wrong the Elyos were, and how right the Asmodians were.
What made Israphel think peace was a good idea? How was it that the man I respected and held in such high regard as my friend, would believe such horrors would agree to peace terms?
Elysean history taught Azphel opposed the Peace Talks, and labelled him as a traitor to the world, the cause of the Tower's shattering.
History was wrong.
Azphel had been right – from the very beginning.
I exhaled out, slowly and steadily. With my breath, came green mist, a Weave within the air which spread out from me like a sighing sway of wind and tides. I channelled my fear, my desperation and denial, into power. The Balaur could not win. Not now. Not ever.
My breath and presence, pushed the cloud of toxicity away, like a gentle bubble of light which swelled out from where I stood and over the mountain of the north Tower base.
Plants straightened once again, animals breathed sighs of relief, as there was yet one hidden Empyrean Lord still who would not submit to the terror of the Dragon Lords. Too long had I bowed beneath their might. Too long had I skipped too close to death under their onslaught.
But like on all of those previous encounters, I still did not bow. I feared, but I still stood. I had always stood.
I had been cursed with strength and intellect, in power and in mind. Now, I was forced to finally embrace it.
: Enter the heart of the Tower. Find my Tree before they do, Aion commanded. Find Amaurea's Gift.
My grip around my daggers tightened. : Where is her fortress?
: The Tower. The Tower of Eternity, was Amaurea's Fortress. The Artefact is within.
My eyes narrowed at the shocking revelation. Amaurea had been Aion's favourite. Of course, her fortress, would have been wherever Aion was. What I had sought for nearly nine hundred years, had been staring at me in the face every day in plain sight.
And today, in less than an hour, it was going to be destroyed.
xxx
Julius watched as the five, looming masses approached from within the turbulent storm of chaotic Aether. They blocked out the light of the sky. The toxic fumes of their storm withered all plants which fell beneath. Such toxicity and death was Tiamat's signature.
Lightning crackled within the storm. Snow and fire clashed together, creating the great winds which howled after the fumes.
The signatures of all five Dragon Lords, made their presences known once again through the world of Atreia, reminding all just why the Daevas and Humans fought them in the first place.
There could be no peace alongside such nightmares.
However, Julius was powerless. He could do nothing, not until Israphel acted.
On the outside, Julius stood as an emperor who was calm and cold, as steady as a mountain, and as powerful as the leader of the Dragon Lords, for indeed he was.
Fregion would not have forgotten what Julius did to him two hundred years ago. None of them would have. The Dragon Lords' approaching display of malice, power and dominance – despite supposedly coming under the guise of peace – was for Julius's benefit.
Julius almost smirked. If you hope to frighten me away, then you are sorely mistaken, Fregion, he thought with equal malice. What horror you display will not hide your fear of me.
Nevertheless, internally, Julius stood poised, ready, tense and taut as a wire rope which had been pulled to its tensile limit. Its coil hummed with the strain, begging for release, to unleash its power with vicious and shocking retaliation.
Julius's unshakable attention was broken however. But not by what he was expecting.
The presence swam into the Aether, subtle enough that Julius had not noticed it in the beginning. But it was clear, like a purification which resisted the death of Tiamat's fumes, rising like a bubble from the Tower's north base, which was below him from his current orientation.
The presence was like a returning of light to a world which had been dark for too long. It was a reminder of what had been missing, and no one realised how dire and important it was, until the spark of life and awareness had returned.
It was a force of life Julius had missed and ached for, more than anything in the world. For two hundred years he had waited; for two hundred years he craved her presence to return to his side; for two hundred years, he fought on her behalf.
Julius inhaled sharply.
Bera!
She had returned. She had awoken once again. Her power had been fully restored, so much so that her force of presence actually rivalled his own.
Julius had both wished for her return with all his heart, yet also dreaded it with sinister foreboding. He wanted her awake and returned to him, but not now. Not until after what was about to happen next, occurred first. She could fight the Dragon Lords now.
But the terror in Julius's heart over his draining of her power and life-force, was resurrected with a sickening vengeance.
The apprehension and dread in his heart, magnified tenfold.
The Dragon Lords and their convoy emerged from their terrible storm, enormous beasts of screaming and shrieking power, with wingspans which blotted out whatever meagre sunlight managed to strain through the choking clouds.
Their attention was briefly distracted, drawn to the awakening power of the hidden Empyrean Lord, who had fallen silent for the last two hundred years.
Julius felt Siel's words through the Weave, given he was too far away to audibly hear her.
"Israphel, what are you doing? No, wait! STOP!"
In that instant, a shocking surge of Aether heaved and struck forth from the Tower like a spitting star in itself, with the entire force of the tides and oceans behind it. It was Israphel's Aether.
The Dragon Lords defended, and the shockwave of the explosion ripped out across the world, blasting the black and stormy clouds away, as well as sending cracks reverberating up and down along the Tower's length.
The Tower's Aetheric life and light, flickered, like a heartbeat which had stalled.
The shock was astronomical across both sides, of the Daevas and the Balaur. Even more so as the monolithic Dragon of crackling lightning – Beritra – fell from the sky, having taken the brunt of Israphel's unsuspecting attack.
Meslamtaeda and Tiamat shrieked their unholy roars of fury at Israphel's betrayal, and gathered their strikes within their maws, before releasing them forth at the Tower.
The Tower. It was completely defenceless without the Aetheric field! If it was hit, it would shatter like crystal.
This day was the day Beralin had been trying to warn him of. The shattering of the Tower, was during the Peace Talks. The Summit.
Aion woke her for this.
Julius acted instantly, leaping into the sky and unfurling his great wings with a release of his force of presence, simultaneous to Zikel who had been perched on a higher balcony.
Like a great wave, Julius's Woven Aether swing of his blazing, blinding sword, combined with Zikel's strike of his mighty glaive, batted Meslamtaeda's and Tiamat's rippling Aether away into the horizon. The sound of the strike cracked out through the skies with a deafening sonic boom, which rattled the foundations of the Tower even more, causing chambers inside to collapse and rubble to fall along the outside like the beginnings of an avalanche.
Ereshkigal attacked immediately afterwards, his great wings summoning all the frozen fury of the world's winter to his command like a solid wall and sheet of entombing ice.
Azphel and Nezekan combined their retaliation, defending against the howling blizzards with a great wall of defence of their own. Both forces clashed against the other with a force which sent Ereshkigal's strike straight up into the sky, down into the ground, and along the sides of Azphel's and Nezekan's defence.
The ice and howl was so violent, so powerful, that within seconds, the defending shield began to crack and splinter.
Kaisinel's form morphed into fruition, flanked by four giant titans of each element, which towered to match the size and might of the Dragon Lords beyond Ereshkigal's screeching howl.
The shield shattered, and the titans stepped forth into the blizzard, twisting the elements of winter around the forms to counter the Third Dragon's Lords entombing ice.
Tiamat and Meslamtaeda sided with their frozen brother, and prepared to attack as one unit with an earth-shattering roar of rage.
Fregion's fire had disappeared however amongst the chaos, as the rest of the Empyrean Lords grappled with the confusion, joining the fight.
But Julius felt where Fregion had gone. Fregion had extinguished his fire, long enough to slip past them all, to follow the traitorous Israphel who had fled into the Tower. Fregion followed with fury, accompanied by five overwhelmingly powerful Generals.
And Beralin. Her presence zipped along the Weave, after Israphel and Fregion.
No! Julius thought.
He turned to the Tower, but Tiamat blocked him, cackling her wretched laugh within her condemning roar of victory.
"Triniel!" Azphel's command struck through the deafening chaos. Azphel had sensed the same as Julius.
Triniel's presence disappeared, finding a way in through the convey which had blocked their path in. Azphel was close enough to also make it.
Julius gripped his sword.
: Go! Azphel! Go with Triniel! I will hold them here! Julius ordered.
Azphel obeyed without hesitation, becoming a shadow piercing through the Balaur ranks which had stayed behind to buy Fregion time.
Julius turned his attention to Tiamat and attacked without mercy, his first strike ripping through her left wing in one swing. She screeched in pain.
Two things drove Julius's strength. Two terrors. One was having Fregion within the heart of the Tower of Eternity. The other, was Beralin chasing after the two most corrupted and evil entities on the planet.
Neither Tower nor Beralin could be lost.
xxx
: Reach it before Israphel. Reach my Tree before he takes it! Aion commanded in my head. Israphel was the traitor the Lords never knew. His corruption led to the broken world of your present.
The speed of my passage through partial warping and physical dashing and running around corners, ripped the tears from my eyes, drying them as quickly as they grew wet.
I never would have suspected Israphel to be a traitor. He not only betrayed the Empyrean Lords, but stabbed the Dragon Lords in the back just as equally. Nothing hurt as much as this did. Israphel had been my friend. My friend.
I trusted him. I trusted him! I thought with both fury and despairing disbelief. How could he do this? What happened to him? What changed?
I had to find him. He had to answer me. He owed us all that much. What did he hope to achieve by turning his back on everyone? He had been one of the best men I knew. He was one of the greats, one of the kindest, and most honourable. He had been the most inspiring and charismatic, so mighty and courageous. Everyone gravitated to him.
What changed? What changed you? Lephar!
It had been heartbreaking enough to know he would die during the Cataclysm. But nothing was more heartbreaking, than to know the man I looked up to and trusted enough to drop his title, had betrayed us all.
I had to find him before he reached the Tree. He could not reach it first. Not when I knew where it is. Not when I knew what it was for and needed it for my own time. The power within it was not meant for Israphel. It was not even meant for me. It was meant for only two people; its original owner, Amaurea, and its new master, Julius.
I followed the corridors behind Fregion, for he left fire and destruction in his wake. Rock melted to lava where he stepped. Stone cracked under the searing heat of his volcanic presence. The air shimmered as the spreading inferno burnt the oxygen away.
Even through the cocooned shield of the Weave which guarded me in place of my armour – for I only wore what I had emerged from the lake in, blouse and trousers – Fregion's roaring heat sweltered through the glimmering green Weave. Sweat beaded across my skin.
I raced through the corridors, stairs and halls of the Tower of Eternity. Its beauty crumbled around me, collapsing under the onslaught of forces being fought outside, and the skirmishes now happening inside. Without the Aetheric Field to defend and protect it, the Tower of Eternity was a single spire of stone, as fragile as glass.
Somewhere behind, I felt two presences follow hot on my heels. But these were not Balaur. One was Triniel. The other was Azphel.
"ISRAPHEL!" Fregion's voice cracked through the chambers like an eruption. "YOU DARE BETRAY ME? FOOL!"
Fregion's voice contained such force of power, that the crumbling walls, groaned as if with pain, and the foundations began to shake, weakening under the might of Fregion's powerful words alone. It threw my momentum off, staggering to the side against the walls of fire.
My Woven Aetheric armour protected me as I regained my footing, but the stumble cost me precious seconds, and desperation flooded my body and I squeezed my eyes shut with momentary hopeless despair and frustration.
: Follow my line. You must warp directly, alone. You cannot wait for Triniel and Azphel, Aion instructed.
I opened my eyes and focused my panted breathing. No more time for tears, despite how they still fell and evaporated instantly in the screeching heat.
Within the Weave, Aion illuminated the one line to follow. My body disappeared, becoming the essence which travelled along its line, zipping along it as fast as light, shooting past the unbearable force and presence of Fregion who had almost caught up with the still shining white signature of Israphel.
Even as an essence, passing by Fregion was enough to throw me off course and burn patches of my skin from his catastrophic heat. With a defiant cry, I pushed through a split second more, before forcing myself to materialise within a chamber as Israphel entered it simultaneously.
It was a chamber as vast as an endless field, dotted with pebbles instead of grass. The pebbles vibrated a constant hum as the Tower shook and cracked along its failing pressure points. In the centre, a giant tree of stone stood proud and tall. But cracks formed along its mighty trunk as well, as its stone and crystalline branches fell from above.
The stone leaves rained down, shattering against the vibrating pebbles like twinkling music amongst the horrific roar of the weakening Tower.
Israphel strode into the chamber, summoning his magnificent trident in his hand. He prepared to strike at the stone Tree.
But the Artefact was not the Tree. The Julius of my original time had already shown me what the Artefact actually looked like.
It would be disguised as one of the leaves. It would be the only wooden one there.
But Israphel did not know that. He could never be allowed to know it.
Before I fully materialised from my staggered warp, I re-entered it and rushed him, hardening my broken heart as I brought my arm and blade back to attack.
"Stop, Lephar!" I shouted.
Israphel spun around. He blocked my strike instinctively, and as I materialised, his eyes widened. The haze of corrupted greed, cleared for a moment, enough to recognise me with dismay.
"Beralin!" He gasped.
My second dagger came, but he twisted out and away, before his anger returned with an impatience and countered my strikes.
"You should not be here, Beralin!" He growled.
"No! It is you who should not be here!" I spat, matching his strikes. Each strike sent rips through the stone walls of the chamber, rattling the foundations further. He was so powerful.
"Why?" I screamed at him. "Why did you betray us? You were supposed to be the purest of them all! Why did you turn your back?"
Each word of mine was accompanied by slash after hit, infused with Woven Aether. Israphel was powerful, but so was I. We were evenly matched.
Yet Israphel's might was unfamiliar. His style of fighting was foreign, as if he manipulated the very fabric of space around him to match my speed, and his physical strength was greater than mine. I could not read his movements.
He struck me hard, forcing me to crash back against the ground. He was over me in a heartbeat, pinning my wrists down with his hands.
"Because it was supposed to be me!" His voice cracked out like a whip, with a force which split the stone tree in half along its towering shaft. "It was supposed to be me!"
His eyes blazed with fury, with jealousy, and grief, to wish for something he could never have. His eyes bore into my soul, and within the reflective gaze of his eyes, I was struck by sudden, unacceptable understanding.
It was Julius. Israphel absolutely, and entirely, hated Julius. Julius had everything Israphel wanted. Julius had power, he had command, he had divine mandate. And Julius had me.
Israphel wanted everything which Julius had. Everything.
But he did not, and the jealousy consumed him. It had corrupted him. It had corrupted him to the point wherein Israphel had devised a plan to destroy everyone, leaving only him behind as the sole Lord of the world.
Lord of Atreia.
"You were not supposed to wake, Beralin," Israphel snarled, leaning close. "You were supposed to remain in slumber until my plan had been completed. Only then, could I take Julius's place, and claim all which belonged to him."
My hands curled into fists. "You are not Julius!" I hissed, resisting and pushing up against him. Our Aether warred against each other, causing the air to hum and vibrate with the clash. "And he is not you! You are both entirely different men. Unique. Was it not you who said we should not compare ourselves to others, but to see our own merits and rise above our doubts? You used to be strong. Magnificent! What happened to you, Lephar?"
"What happened, was I fell in love with the one woman I could never have." His force of Aether surged, slamming me back down onto my back and my head swam dizzyingly from the crack.
"I still loved you," I strained through gritted teeth.
"It is a different love I want from you. Likewise the power I want is not what I have. I deserve more than what Aion gave me. I have served Aion longer than any of them. But everything I deserved, went to Julius, including you. I deserve what He gave to Julius," he spat with malice. "In another world, in another time, that is what I said to you. I am the Lord of Space. I will re-craft the world anew through Aion's Tree. I will create a new era. And at last, I will have all which should have been mine. Julius should never have existed."
Blind obsession swam in his eyes which had once been so clear and unclouded. I stared up at him with crushing despair and disbelief. The man I had once known, was gone.
Israphel leaned down to kiss me.
He disappeared.
Triniel gracefully intercepted, and Israphel recoiled enough away to avoid being decapitated. Her blade still cut him, and a line of red trickled down Israphel's neck as he snarled, spinning his trident before attacking back with shocking speed and fluidity.
Triniel matched him with deadly grace, as if she were death itself, come to claim her next soul.
"Beralin!" Azphel materialised beside me and took my hand as I hauled myself up. Israphel distorted space, moving through it, separately from the Weave, to meet Azphel in combat and separate us.
Azphel's sword of darkness met Israphel's whispering trident, and I warped backwards, allowing Triniel to take my place as both turned to fight the Lord of Space.
Barely five exchanges of blades and Aether had been made, before the far wall exploded with a force which rushed through into the chamber.
It was a force of an inferno which I had never comprehended before. So quick, so violent, so impossibly destructive, that even before the wall exploded, the temperature of the air spiked so high that skin would have melted from bone, just as the stone of the tree and pebbles hissed as they turned to lava instantly.
I threw my hands out, forging the greatest barrier I ever had and was capable of, halting the melt on my side of the Weave.
Fregion's full might crashed against my barrier.
Sound disappeared, as did sight, as all became a blinding and silent white.
I did not have to see or hear, to know what was happening.
Just like in my first fight against Tiamat nearly nine hundred years ago in Reshanta, history repeated itself in a similar fashion.
Except this time, it was against Fregion. And this time, it was not a Dredgion battleship which was destroyed.
How long ago that had been. In a different time, in a different world.
Fregion's fire ripped in every possible direction along the wall of my barrier which protected Azphel, Israphel, Triniel, myself, and somewhere amongst the debris, the little inconspicuous Artefact of Aion's Tree.
"Beralin!" Azphel and Israphel yelled in unison.
Fregion's fire split through the Tower, and within every living creature's mind, a terrible, horrifying and unholy shriek, screamed in cacophonous agony.
Aion's heart, had been split, and broken.
The Tower shattered.
It's force, and Fregion's, and what was left of my barrier, exploded outwards like a dying star, catching everyone and everything within its centre, blowing it all away with the ricochetting blast waves of blinding light and broken Aether.
It was not just Fregion who had destroyed the Tower of Eternity.
It had been me.
xxx
The blast rippled outwards in all directions. Aion's howling shriek of unbearable pain split every living organism's mind, including the Dragon Lords and the Balaur.
They all twisted against the agony which pierced their minds. All cried out against the shocking horror as the explosion of light, fire and Weave, boomed and blasted out from the centre of the Tower of Eternity.
The spire, from its centre, collapsed, as shards the size of mountains were thrown outwards with the force of the explosion.
Nothing joined the middle, nothing but chaotic light and Aether as the force of the waves slammed against both hemispheres of Atreia, sending them apart. Gravity fluctuated immediately.
No preparation or warning could have prepared anyone, including the Empyrean and Dragon Lords, for the sight they witnessed, as the very heart of the world shattered like a splintering and exploding glass. Light of all colours shimmered outwards with terrible and blinding beauty, turning all heads to the centre of the world, as they witnessed the horrific, yet beautiful destruction of Atreia's heart.
Atreia would die, as the two hemispheres of the world began to pull apart, which would catapult each half out of orbit from their sun, and deep into the cold emptiness of space. The atmosphere seemed to gasp, as the fluctuation and weakening of gravity, began to suck the upper and outer atmosphere of the planet, out into the void of space.
However, a force remained, one which was still structured amongst the broken marks of blinding Aether within the heart of the Tower's breaking. A greater light shone, of blazing emerald wings, great, magnifying and towering, as if to encompass the world in its embrace to try and hold it together.
For that was what the Weave was doing, straining with astronomical power to hold both ends of the Tower – and therefore of the planet – together.
The separation slowed, but did not stop.
Julius gasped. It was Beralin. She was still in the centre. It was her who was trying to hold the world together. She was almost succeeding. Almost a God herself.
But it was still not enough. Julius felt the strength of her will through the Weave. It was a scream which mingled with Aion's. Their voices combined. One of pain, and one of desperate defiance.
It was going to kill her.
: Siel! Israphel! Freeze the Tower and restore the Field! The rest of you, stabilise the Tower bases! Julius commanded.
He did not care if Israphel had betrayed them at this moment in time. If the world spun away, then there would be no world left to live and rule over. Not even Israphel could be so blind to turn his back.
Julius himself, warped through the chaos of Aether to the centre. The forces of Aether shredded through his cloak and cut against his skin.
Beralin floated, her arms stretched out on either side, each hand holding onto one half of the world. The wind ripped around her, her muscles bulged and strained beneath her white skin, and her white hair whipped about her body. Her face was distorted and strained with pain as tears glistened against her cheeks. Her eyes were squeezed shut.
"No,no, NO!" She shrieked.
Julius grasped her hand, and took the weight of the southern half of Atreia.
Its weight was unlike anything he had ever held before, and immediately he strained with instant agony against the tremendous force trying to cast it out into space.
He poured his entire power into it, slowing the separation even more. But he knew in that instance, it was not enough. Even with both of them, it was not enough to prevent this cataclysmic event.
Beralin's eyes flashed open the moment he took her hand.
"Julius!"
Though her skin and hair remained white, the vibrant colour of life had returned to her eyes, eyes which shone the powerful emerald of Aion's Sight.
His beloved Beralin. How he had missed her so. How he wished they could have been reunited again under much happier circumstances.
"I'm sorry, Julius! I'm sorry!" She cried. "This is the Cataclysm! I thought I could stop it, but I helped create it!"
"No!" Julius's voice cut through the chaos of Aether and her cry. "Listen to me, you did not create this! Israphel betrayed us all, and Fregion's fire destroyed the Tower! It was not you!"
She shook her head, crying. "We cannot let the Tower break. We have to hold it together!"
Julius pulled himself to her, taking her arms in his hands as he maintained his hold on the planet with his mind, while simultaneously cocooning them both in a Woven barrier to shield them from the shredding forces of Aether which slashed at their skin.
"Bera." His voice cracked with emotion as he realised with devastation, they had lost. "We cannot. You can feel it, and I can feel it. Even combined, we do not have the power to halt this. The Tower shattered. This is the world you were born in to! History cannot be changed."
Her sobs grew heavier and stronger. And a horrible dawning realisation seemed to seep into her expression and posture.
"I don't want to fulfil the prophecy when I go back. You will never forgive me," she wept. "But I also don't want the world to die. I will not let you die."
Julius's eyes widened upon her words, as a terrible fear and realisation punched his chest.
The prophecy. It meant this? It meant the Tower's shattering?
She saw the question in his eyes, and her expression distorted with grief.
"I found out in the end, Julius. I know what my role is. And I know what your role is as well. Even though you will have nearly a thousand years to work out how to keep the truth from me when I am finally born, I will still discover it because I love Elysea, I love Atreia, and I love you. I will do everything in my power to protect it all, to protect you above all else. I am . . . I am sorry."
Somehow, her words felt like a knife to his heart, a final farewell, and his breath wavered with a fear greater than their collapsing world.
"What are you saying, Bera?"
A presence passed over the pair, and Julius recognised it as Aion's. But Aion spoke only to Beralin.
"No!" She howled in response to whatever He said. Her hands flashed up, gripping Julius's arms. Her hands shook violently.
The edges of her body began to glow . . . and disintegrate away.
: Let go, Julius, Aion's voice entered his mind. It was weak, it was sorrowful. It is time for her to return to her original time. Let her go, for it is not your Fate to die at the heart of the Cataclysm, nor is it her Fate either.
"I don't want to leave," Beralin cried with grief. "I cannot leave you, Julius!"
: If she stays, the powers of the Cataclysm will destroy her. If she stays, you will never see her again, Julius, Aion said quietly. It was not a threat. It was a harsh and bitter Truth. She has learnt allshe needs to. Now it is time for her to return. You will find her again, Aion continued, maintaining the Truth in His words.
Tears slipped from Julius's eyes and down his cheeks. His Aetheric cocoon was failing within the violent light as the world continued to pull apart. Unstable Aetheric bolts cascaded out from the centre of the turbulent and roaring, rippling blast.
Beralin's body disintegrated more along the edges, fading away like blossom petals caught in the wind.
Her grip remained strong, but her skin began to grow transparent. It did not matter how tightly he held onto her, she was still going to fade. As much as he hated Aion, Aion's words were True. He felt it in his heart.
And his heart shattered like the destroyed Tower of Eternity.
Beralin let go with one hand, reaching up over her heart with the same heartbreak they both felt as one, as the inevitable dawned on them both.
She pulled her necklace off, and with her trembling hand, she placed it into Julius's empty one.
"Take it. Remember me and take it. Give this to me when I am a child."
Julius pulled her into his arms one last time, and embraced her as tightly as he could. Her body shook with her sobs, and his own tears dripped down his face.
"How do I find you?" He whispered.
Her arms wrapped around him, still strong and protective. Still filled with undying love and all the forgiveness in the world.
"Seven hundred years from now, find Sophie Atherton in Elysea. She is my mother, a Pureblood. Find her, and you will find me."
Seven hundred years. Seven hundred years of emptiness. Of loneliness. Of a broken world without Beralin.
How could Fate be so cruel to him? Beralin had spent four centuries of her eight hundred and seventy year life here, asleep after the battles which had been too great for her. Now that she had woken again, barely an hour, and she was going to disappear from him for seven hundred years.
His fingers tightened around the emerald necklace in his hand, just as his arms tightened around her, as if his arms alone could prevent the fact and reality she had to return to her origin.
"I love you, Julius, with all my heart," Beralin said and vowed, her voice cracking with emotion. "Wait for me, and I will return to you."
Despite it all, she still managed to Weave Truth into her words.
A sob escaped Julius's lips.
"I will find you. I promise, I will find you again." His voice broke. But even though his voice was broken, the Truth within them was not.
"I love you, Bera. With everything that I am."
"I love you," she breathed.
And then, Beralin's grip suddenly disappeared, as her physical form gave way to the air.
"Julius . . ." Her voice sighed away with her fading body.
The petals of her form, puffed out one by one, like ash, into the Aetheric maelstrom which danced around Julius at its centre. Her presence – which he had always sensed in the world besides that one day in Kurngalfberg – disappeared entirely from Atreia.
Like Sudryl. Like Thalia. And now Beralin.
They were all gone. Completely.
Julius did not care as he felt Siel pour her entire existence and life into halting the Cataclysm of the Tower's destruction. He did not care that the violence of Aether at the centre of the shattering Tower, ripped a void in space and reality to create a new dimension and world of empty horror and scattered memories.
He did not care as the displacement of the two hemispheres plunged northern Atreia into darkness. And he did not care about the destruction, which the fallen mountains and Aetheric meteors from the breaking Tower rained down over the lands.
Cities were destroyed. Mountain ranges were drawn anew. Tidal and tsunami waves swept across the coastal lands.
Screams filled the very atmosphere, as millions upon millions of souls died and were Displaced, in one, horrifying hour.
Julius closed his eyes with despair, and pulled his Weave back from the Tower's bases. What energy and will he had left, he encompassed it around himself, and like everything else which had been within the blast radius, Julius was cast out, streaking through the sky as one of many falling lights.
Defeated.
On that day, the world was changed.
On that day, the Cataclysm was born.
On that day, history was rewritten.
Julius – the most powerful Daeva in the world – was forgotten.