Divinity's Trial

THE UNKNOWN RUINS

Tur, the scholar-king of Ortuzar, sat amidst the chaos of his study, his eyes wide with realization. The rune-marked map before him seemed to glow with newfound significance as if the ink had come alive with ancient energy. After days of tireless work deciphering forgotten texts, cross-referencing obscure references, and poring over cryptic symbols, he had finally discovered something of monumental importance.There, just beyond the borders of his kingdom, lay the ruins he had been searching for. It was not just a place of stone and mortar, but a nexus of forgotten power—an ancient site older than Ortuzar itself, its name lost to time but its purpose whispered in half-remembered legends. Tur traced his finger over the map, feeling a tremor of excitement. The ruins were closer than he had ever imagined—only a few days' journey to the northeast, nestled within a hidden valley at the foot of the Nethrim Mountains.The realization sent a surge of adrenaline coursing through him. The site was mentioned only briefly in a handful of documents, a footnote in the chronicles of old, but the descriptions matched what he had been searching for: a sanctuary of the Runebound, a race whose mastery over the arcane arts was unparalleled. The very thought of what lay buried there filled him with a fierce determination."Of course," he whispered to himself, the words barely escaping his lips. "It's been here all along, right under our noses..."The proximity of the ruins made his heart pound with both excitement and urgency. This discovery was a revelation, a clue that might lead him directly to the source of the ancient power he craved. If the ruins truly held what he suspected—remnants of the Runebound's knowledge, artifacts of their craft, or perhaps even a direct link to their lost magic—then Ortuzar's future, and his, could be transformed beyond imagination.Tur stood abruptly, scattering papers in his haste. He crossed the room to the bell-pull that would summon his most trusted advisors. This was not something he could afford to delay. He would need scouts, a team of scholars, and guards. The journey would be treacherous, and he had no way of knowing what might lurk in the shadows of the forgotten valley, waiting to protect its secrets.He yanked the bell-pull, his mind racing with possibilities. If the ruins were real, if they were intact... if the legends were true... the knowledge contained within could tip the balance of power not only in Ortuzar but across the known realms.Moments later, the door creaked open, and a guard appeared, bowing quickly. "Your Majesty?""Prepare an expedition," Tur commanded, his voice filled with urgency. "Gather my advisors, Lady Elara, and the finest scholars and guards we have. We ride at dawn."The guard nodded, sensing the gravity in Tur's tone. "As you command, Your Majesty."As the door closed, Tur turned back to the window, his thoughts swirling. For the first time in what felt like ages, he felt the stirrings of genuine hope. The path to unlocking the secrets of the past had never been clearer. The ancient ruins were waiting, their stones whispering secrets of lost magic and forgotten power. And he would be the one to uncover them.Tur breathed deeply, feeling the cold morning air fill his lungs. Tomorrow, they would ride. Tomorrow, the quest would truly begin.

Tur, the scholar-king of Ortuzar, stood at the edge of his castle's courtyard, the morning sun just beginning to peek over the distant mountains. His breath misted in the crisp air, mingling with the faint scent of earth and pine. The courtyard was a flurry of activity—horses being saddled, packs secured, and a small but formidable company of knights, scholars, and scouts assembling under his command. This was not a journey to be taken lightly. The ruins, though close, lay in treacherous lands—unknown territory where forgotten powers might still linger.

He mounted his horse with a fluid motion, feeling the weight of his armor and the heavier burden of his quest. Tur had not been this far from Ortuzar in years; the responsibilities of the crown had kept him close to his seat of power. But now, the call of discovery, the allure of the unknown, drove him from the safety of his halls.

The expedition moved out as the first light of dawn spread across the horizon. Tur led the column, his dark cloak fluttering in the cold wind. Lady Elara rode beside him, her face set with determination. She carried with her several volumes of ancient texts and scrolls, ready to consult whatever cryptic clues they might find at the site. Behind them were guards, armed and alert, flanked by scribes and scouts who would help navigate the terrain.

The Journey Begins

The road was rough, winding through dense forests and over rugged hills. They traveled in silence at first, their path weaving through valleys and across streams that sparkled in the early light. The dense canopy of the forest closed around them, the air growing thick with the scent of moss and wet earth. The further they went, the more Tur could feel the weight of the ancient magic hanging in the air, like a distant hum just beneath the range of hearing. The runes seemed to pulse in his mind, guiding his steps.

As they journeyed deeper, the terrain grew more challenging. The land itself seemed to resist their passage—branches reached out like grasping hands, and the earth underfoot was soft and uncertain. A sense of anticipation, mixed with unease, settled over the group. Tur felt it too—a prickling sensation at the nape of his neck, as if they were being watched by unseen eyes.

Through the Forests of Nethrim

For two days they traveled, navigating through the shadowed forest paths. At night, they camped beneath the thick canopy, their fires burning bright in the darkness. Tur spent the evenings pouring over his maps and notes, his eyes tracing the path to the ruins, ensuring that they remained on course. He could sense they were close—the air felt different, heavier, as if charged with something old and powerful.

Lady Elara, ever watchful, noted the signs around them. "These woods are ancient," she whispered one evening. "They've seen much, and they keep their secrets well." She had noticed small things—the unnatural quiet at times, the strange markings on the trees, symbols that seemed to shift and change when looked at from different angles. "We must be cautious," she warned. "We are entering a place where the old magics still breathe."

The Hidden Valley

On the third day, they reached the edge of the forest and emerged onto a ridge overlooking a hidden valley. Tur reined in his horse and gazed down. There, nestled at the base of the Nethrim Mountains, lay the ruins—half-buried in overgrown foliage, shrouded in mist. Even from a distance, he could see the remnants of massive stone structures—broken columns, weathered walls, and the faint outline of what might have been a grand archway.

The valley seemed to exhale a cool mist, its breath ghosting up toward the sky. The ruins, ancient and forgotten, beckoned to him like a long-lost memory. Tur felt a jolt of excitement mixed with a deep, primal fear. He knew, instinctively, that they were at the threshold of something extraordinary.

"This is it," he whispered, almost to himself. He felt the rune burn in his mind once more, urging him forward.

Elara turned to him, her eyes wide with wonder. "We must proceed carefully, Your Majesty," she said, though there was an unmistakable spark in her voice. "Whatever lies within those stones has remained untouched for centuries. Who knows what wards or traps might still be active?"

Tur nodded, but his gaze never left the ruins. "We go in," he said firmly. "But stay alert. No one is to touch anything without my command. We don't know what we're dealing with yet."