The Aielind Chronicles: Journey

Chapter Eleven: Edrahil

The world around Edrahil shifted in an instant. The vibrant colors of the forest, the pulsing light of the Heart, the air thick with magic—everything vanished. He felt as though he were falling, though there was no ground beneath him, no sensation of movement. It was as though time itself had stopped, and all that remained was the soft hum of energy that resonated deep within his chest.

The silence was suffocating. Edrahil’s thoughts raced, but the more he tried to focus, the more they slipped through his mind like sand through his fingers. He had felt the pull of the Heart, the draw toward something greater, but now, in this strange stillness, it was impossible to tell where he was—or if he was even truly there at all.

He reached out, his hand trembling as it sliced through the empty air, but there was nothing to grasp. His pulse hammered in his ears, a rhythmic pounding that matched the pulsing light of the Heart he had just left behind.

A voice, low and distant, echoed in the void. “Edrahil.”

His heart skipped a beat. The voice was unmistakable—his father’s. The familiar sound of Bra’Ven’s deep, commanding tone, though it was distorted, reverberating like a whisper through a cave.

“Father?” Edrahil’s voice was shaky, a raw edge to it that betrayed the confusion and fear he felt. “Where are you? What’s happening?”

The silence stretched, but then Bra’Ven’s voice returned, though now it seemed closer, more defined. “You’ve crossed a threshold, my son. The Heart has taken you beyond the realm you know. This is where all paths converge—the place where spirits are bound, and where they may be freed.”

Edrahil’s breath caught in his throat. He had heard the legends, the stories of the Heart of the Forest being the source of all life and magic, but to be standing—or rather, existing—in this liminal space, it felt unreal.

“What do I need to do?” Edrahil asked, his voice steadying. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I’m ready. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Bra’Ven’s form materialized before him, though still translucent, his face somber yet resolute. “The Heart’s power is vast, Edrahil. But it is not without its cost. The spirits here are bound by their own regrets, their own unfinished business. To free them, you must confront not only the magic that binds them but also the parts of yourself you have long buried.”

Edrahil’s stomach twisted. “What does that mean? What do I have to face?”

His father’s gaze softened, and for the first time, Edrahil saw a flicker of something more human in him—regret, perhaps, or sorrow. “You must face the truth of what happened between us, Edrahil. The pain you’ve carried, the anger that has shaped you. The Heart will show you the past, but you must decide what to do with it.”

Edrahil recoiled, stepping back as if he could escape the weight of his father’s words. “I’ve already faced it. I’ve lived with it every day. You left me. You died. You weren’t there.”

Bra’Ven’s figure wavered, his form flickering like a flame in the wind. “I never wanted to leave you. But the world we lived in was unforgiving. I had no choice. I thought I was protecting you, preparing you for what was to come. I see now that I was wrong. But I was trying to do what I thought was best.”

Edrahil’s chest tightened, his throat constricting. The words he had longed to hear, the words he had never thought would come, were finally here. Yet, they felt hollow. The anger that had festered within him for so long rose again, bubbling to the surface.

“You weren’t there when I needed you,” Edrahil spat, his voice thick with emotion. “You left me to face everything on my own. I had to grow up too fast, learn everything the hard way. And when you came back... you were already gone.”