Beyond the Veil of Yonder (Book 1)

44. The Luminous Grove

William and Garreth, each followed by their men, rode toward the Luminous Grove. The sun had already sunk below the horizon, and the forest glowed softly in the fading twilight. Shadows stretched across the ground where the dense foliage and moss muffled the sound of their horses' hooves.

Shrouded in mystery and awe, the Luminous Grove stood not far from Emberholde, being a place of hope and endurance for centuries. Its sacred grounds remained untouched even during the darkest days of war. To the Aradonian people, the grove was more than a site – it was the soul of their kingdom, connecting them to their shared past and their gods.

A druidic order, the Children of Origins, fiercely protected the grove, forbidding outsiders to trespass under penalty of divine wrath, so most people stayed away, even from its outskirts.

Yet some claimed that deep in the heart of those ancient woods, stood a mysterious structure, built not by humans but by otherworldly beings who inhabited Mystgard before any recorded history. According to legend, as long as the structure remained intact and the druids continued their prayers and rites, Aradon would stand unbroken.

The group pressed on in silence. Only the lonely song of a late bird could be heard at such an hour. A light breeze disturbed the leaves, making them whisper as an oppressive weight seemed to descend upon the knights. Though no eyes could be seen, a strange presence lingered, prickling at their senses like a silent, watchful guardian. The air grew heavier with each step, laden with an unspoken warning, as though the grove itself recoiled at their intrusion. The men exchanged uneasy glances, their armour clinking faintly in the stifling silence. It was as if they were trespassers in a realm not meant for mortal feet – unwelcome guests in a sacred place that bore down upon them with unrelenting, invisible pressure.

Only Garreth seemed unmoved, his lips curling smugly as he cast sidelong glances at William, who kept his gaze forward, refusing to acknowledge his enemy's taunts.

The grove appeared deserted, with no guardians revealing themselves, but as they ventured deeper, an indistinct singing reached their ears. It rose like a tide, each voice blending into the next to create a melody that resonated in the very bones of those who heard it.

Though the knights couldn't understand the words – syllables from a language long forgotten – they felt the meaning stir within them, as if the chant bypassed their minds and reached straight into their souls. The hymn was one of creation and decay, of life and the eternal cycle, its power humbling even the most hardened among them. It instilled awe and a strange sense of clarity, as if for a fleeting moment, they were privy to the divine truths of the universe.

When the knights emerged into the clearing, they found robed figures standing in a wide circle around a towering stone arch. The figures, white-bearded and hooded, were druids. They stopped chanting as they saw the knights.

An elder druid, crowned with woven ivy and holding a staff, stepped forward. He held his head high, like a host greeting strangers at his doorstep. "Who are you?" he demanded. "This is sacred ground. You have no right to be here."

The elder druid, known as Eryndor, was a figure of reverence throughout Aradon. A man of unwavering faith, he owned nothing beyond the simple robes he wore, devoting his life to serving the poor and the desperate. His actions spoke louder than any sermon – guiding lost souls, sheltering the forsaken, and easing the suffering of those burdened by life's cruelties.

Tales of his divine gifts spread far and wide. It was said that Eryndor could glimpse fragments of the future, his visions veiled in riddles but undeniably profound. Others swore he could mend the gravely ill with a single touch. Whether true or exaggerated, these stories gave him an almost mythic status, making him even more popular than the king himself.