Divinity's Trial

THE ARCHIVES OF FORGOTTEN MEMORIES

As Tur sat in his private chamber, the weight of leadership bore heavily on his mind. He had managed to rally the people, restore the city, and even marshal the powers of forbidden magic, but the intricacies of governing, maintaining order, and guiding a fractured land toward a common goal weighed on him like a leaden cloak. His thoughts drifted, slowly taking him back to his childhood in Ortuzar, back to the days when he was just a young boy watching his parents govern their world.

He could still see his father, the former  King, sitting upon the throne of Ortuzar, dictating orders with the precision of a strategist and the weight of a man who carried the burdens of an entire kingdom. His father was never one to flinch, always quick to solve crises, always in command. Tur remembered watching the council meetings from the shadows, absorbing the conversations about diplomacy, trade, warfare, and the delicate balance required to maintain peace.

His mother, on the other hand, was the queen of their home. She maintained the family with a grace and strength that, even in his youth, Tur admired deeply. She had an uncanny ability to soothe tensions, anticipate needs, and handle the affairs of the household with the same efficiency that his father brought to ruling Ortuzar. Every decision was weighed, every action purposeful.

As these memories flooded in, Tur couldn't help but draw comparisons to his own situation now. He was at the center of it all, much like his father had been. The city of Tabrees, the rebuilding of the world engine, the fight against the False Gods—it all fell on his shoulders. He realized how much he had inherited from them, both in strength and in duty.

The memory of his father's voice echoed in his mind: *"Leadership isn't about power, Tur. It's about the people you serve."*

And his mother's gentle words followed: *"A ruler's heart must be strong enough to withstand the weight of the crown, yet soft enough to care for those under it."*

Tur closed his eyes for a moment, letting the memories settle. His father had ruled with wisdom, his mother with compassion, and both had shaped him into the man he was now. But Ortuzar had fallen, and their lessons had been buried under the weight of betrayal and blood. Now, it was his time to lead, but this time, for a greater purpose than even his family could have imagined.

"Father... Mother..." he whispered into the silence of the chamber, "I'll rebuild this world. I'll make sure no one suffers as we did."

With renewed determination, he rose from his chair, ready to face the challenges ahead.

The heat of the Ortuzar sun streamed through the windows of the family estate as young Tur sat at his mother's feet, listening intently. Her voice was soft, like a lullaby, but the stories she told were anything but peaceful.

"In the land of Elarion," she whispered, running her fingers through his hair, "there existed powerful artifacts, remnants of a forgotten age, and magic so ancient, even time itself dared not unravel it." Her eyes sparkled with the weight of the tales, as if she herself had been there, seen the glories of Elarion.

Tur's heart raced as he imagined the land beyond the stories. "Mother, do you think one day I'll see Elarion?" he asked, his eyes wide with wonder.

She chuckled softly. "Perhaps, my son. But the path to such places is not through desire alone. It takes knowledge, wisdom, and the will of the Creator."

Later, Tur would share these stories with his siblings. One evening, sitting around the hearth, he recounted the legends with wide-eyed enthusiasm. "And then the Seven False Gods were banished! Their power was drained, but they left their cult to manipulate the world in their absence."

Damian, his older brother, smirked and shook his head. "You and your wild stories, Tur. Elarion? False Gods? These are just fables."

But Lucian, always more interested in matters of knowledge, leaned forward. "What if it's true? What if Elarion does exist, and we just don't know how to find it?"