Divinity's Trial

THE ARCHIVES OF FORGOTTEN MEMORIES II

The memories of the Great War of Ortuzar haunted Tur like a shadow he could never escape. Every time he closed his eyes, the battlefield returned to him in vivid detail—the cries of the dying, the scent of burning wood, and the blood that soaked the once fertile lands of Ortuzar. But the worst were the faces of his brothers, Lucian and Damian, both fallen by his hand.

### Scene: The Nightmare Begins

Tur stood in the midst of a battlefield that stretched endlessly in every direction, the sky blood-red, and the ground littered with the corpses of soldiers from both Ortuzar and Cyrus. The clang of steel and the screams of men echoed in his ears, but no one moved—everything was frozen, trapped in time like a twisted painting of war. At his feet lay his brothers, Damian's body riddled with arrows, and Lucian's throat slashed by the very dagger he had once wielded so skillfully. The sight of them pierced Tur's heart like a thousand needles.

A voice broke the silence, cold and accusatory. It was his own voice, yet different—older, more sinister, and dripping with disdain.

**Old Tur:** "Is this what you fought for, Tur? Is this the glorious future you envisioned for Ortuzar?"

Tur spun around to see himself—an older version, dressed in the war-torn robes of a king, his face gaunt and his eyes hollow. This vision of his former self sneered at him, stepping forward with slow, deliberate strides.

**Tur:** "No... I fought for peace. I fought to protect Ortuzar, to build a future where knowledge and unity—"

**Old Tur (interrupting):** "Protect? Build? Don't lie to yourself!" The old king spat the words, his voice rising like a storm. "You fought to prove something, to show the world you were more than a cowardly scholar. You fought to *win,* Tur. And in the process, you lost everything."

The old Tur bent down, pointing at Damian's lifeless form. **Old Tur:** "Look at him! Your brother—killed by your own hand. Was his betrayal truly worth his life? What was it you said to him before you sent him to the gallows?"

The words came flooding back, unbidden.

**Young Tur (memory):** "Betrayal of the crown is death, Damian. I offer no mercy for traitors."

Damian had screamed, struggling as the noose tightened around his neck, cursing Tur with his dying breath. The people of Ortuzar had watched in horrified silence as their prince dangled lifeless, a grotesque reminder of the consequences of disloyalty.

**Old Tur:** "And Lucian?" The older version continued, now turning to his other brother's body. "You didn't even give him a clean death. You took everything from him—his senses, his dignity, his love—*Cynthia.* You humiliated him in front of the court, made him watch as you married his beloved, only to discard her like she was nothing."

Tur's knees buckled, and he fell to the ground, trembling. The memories he had buried deep in his mind erupted like a dam breaking. Lucian's expression, empty and broken, as Tur stripped him of his very humanity using forbidden magic, making him a living husk. It wasn't just cruelty—it was vengeance, calculated and cold.

**Tur (whispering):** "I... I had no choice."

The older Tur laughed, a sound filled with bitterness. **Old Tur:** "No choice? You had every choice, and you chose to become a monster. You chose to kill your brothers, the only people who ever understood you. You thought by ruling with fear and brutality, you could create order. But look where that led you."

Suddenly, visions flooded Tur's mind—scenes of Ortuzar descending into chaos after his reign. The people revolting in the streets, the once prosperous kingdom now a wasteland of famine, disease, and death. Children crying out in hunger, families fleeing as soldiers burned their homes. Tur saw his own face plastered on the walls of a crumbling city, not as a king but as a tyrant—a despot who had destroyed everything he swore to protect.