Atlantis: Guardians of the Skies

Chapter 35: Echoes of the Past

The clearing felt like a lost sanctuary, wrapped in an unsettling tranquility. The runes on the ground glowed faintly, as if the environment itself pulsed with ancient magic. The group had decided to stay there for the night, not only to rest but also to protect Morgana and Tristan, who remained motionless, their bodies carefully placed near the central stone.

Blake was the first to break the silence, snapping his fingers as a small flame danced in his palm. — If we’re staying here, we might as well do something useful. — He tossed the flame onto a pile of dry branches, and within seconds, a fire rose, casting flickering light on the group's somber faces.

Rhys, sitting with her arms crossed, watched the shadows warily. — You think the heat might activate something here? These runes look… alive.

Aria, kneeling beside Morgana, responded without taking her eyes off the unconscious girl. — These runes were made for protection. If anything gets activated, it’ll be to keep us safe. — Her voice, though firm, carried a trace of uncertainty.

Donovan sat near the fire, his elbows resting on his knees. — Alright, so we’re protected. But that doesn’t explain what’s happening to them. — He gestured toward Morgana and Tristan. — Anyone have any ideas?

— Magic — Aria said flatly. — But not ordinary magic. They’re trapped in something bigger than any spell we know.

— And what do we do? — Brianna asked, her tone sharp. — Sit here waiting while they’re… stuck in who knows where?

Cerys leaned forward, her gaze hard. — Do you want to leave them? — The words came out like blades.

Brianna rolled her eyes. — That’s not what I said. I just think we’re wasting time.

— We’re protecting them — Rhys corrected, meeting her gaze. — And until they wake up, that’s exactly what we’re going to keep doing.

Morgana was surrounded by darkness. The distant sound of wings flapping echoed, each beat resonating like a drum in her chest. Suddenly, a deep, powerful voice filled the void.

— You see the world through the veil of doubt, Morgana. But now, you will see the truth.

The emptiness gave way to images. She saw herself above a war-ravaged Atlantis. The once-bright towers lay in ruins, and the ground was stained with blood and magic. The screams of thousands echoed, mingling with the sound of explosive spells and the clash of weapons.

— This is what happens when power is left unchecked — the voice, calm yet thunderous, explained.

At the heart of the chaos, she saw a group of figures clad in black robes, conducting dark rituals. Their magic was dense and unstable, tearing the very fabric of the world around them. Their intentions were clear: to dominate Atlantis and reshape the order of the world to fit their vision.

— The Black Mantles brought destruction in the name of freedom, but it was only a mask for unrestrained ambition — the voice continued. — They believed magic should be limitless, but that belief led to chaos.

The images shifted, showing the White Mantles—guardians of order—fighting to contain the devastation. Powerful magics clashed, each spell leaving deep scars upon the land. Yet, the White Mantles were outnumbered, their resistance seemingly in vain.

— This is why the Purge happened — the voice went on. — It wasn’t a glorious victory. It was a sacrifice. To save what was left of Atlantis, many innocents were erased along with the guilty.

Morgana watched the final explosion, a wave of white light consuming everything. When the dust settled, the city was empty, and the heart of Atlantis was broken.

— This is what you are facing, Morgana. Not just the shadow of the past, but the threat of history repeating itself. You are the key to preventing this.

— I’m not a leader — Morgana’s voice trembled. — I’m not strong enough.

— Strength comes from recognizing your purpose. You are not just one of the chosen. You are a guide. Find your true essence, and you will be more than you believe.

While Morgana faced the truths of the past, Tristan found himself standing in a rain-soaked battlefield, thunder rumbling overhead. Lightning split the sky, illuminating an imposing figure approaching him. The man seemed to be made of pure energy, each step resounding like thunder.

— You’re here, finally — the figure said, his voice deep. — Are you ready to understand your role?

Tristan instinctively gripped his sword, his fingers tightening around the hilt. — Who are you? And what do you want from me?

The figure let out a low laugh, the sound echoing like distant storms. — It doesn’t matter who I am. What matters is who you are. You are the shield, Tristan. The one who protects the future.

With a wave of his hand, visions materialized around them. Tristan saw himself fighting alongside Morgana, their movements in perfect harmony. She unleashed devastating magic while he blocked the enemies’ attacks. He saw himself standing as a pillar of strength, even when the world seemed to crumble.

— You and Morgana are connected. She is the blade, and you, the shield. Together, you are the force that can prevent destruction. But only if you trust her, and she trusts you.

— She doesn’t trust herself — Tristan replied, frustration lacing his tone. — How can I help her if she doesn’t believe in who she is?

— Show her. Be her foundation. That is why you are here. It is your purpose.

Blake leaned forward, feeding the flames with more dry branches. The flickering shadows danced across the tense faces of the group, illuminating their worried eyes.

— You know, this is getting past the point of what I can handle — Blake said, breaking the silence. — First, we fight creatures made of shadows and water. Now we have two Council members in a deep sleep, and we don’t even know if they’ll wake up. Isn’t it about time someone admits we’re in trouble?

— We’re not in trouble — Cerys said firmly. — We’re in a pause. They’re going through something important, something we need to respect.

— Pause? — Brianna laughed humorlessly, crossing her arms. — A pause means we know when it’ll end. This has no end in sight.

Donovan shot Brianna a tired look. — No one said this would be easy, but we need to keep our heads. If we start turning on each other, we’re done.

— He’s right — Rhys interjected, her tone sharp. — We’re all feeling the same, Brianna. Frustrated, scared, out of control. But that doesn’t mean we start attacking each other.

Aria sighed, pressing her fingers against her temples. — What we need are answers. This uncertainty is eating away at us. But no one here has those answers, at least not yet.

Cerys leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the fire. — Have you ever thought that maybe the answers aren’t up to us? They’re going through something that clearly goes beyond what we understand. Maybe… maybe they’re the ones who need to figure out what to do.

Rhys raised an eyebrow. — You think they’re doing what, exactly? Having tea with the Gods?

— We don’t know — Cerys responded, ignoring the sarcasm. — But something tells me that when they wake up, things will change. They will change.

— And if they don’t wake up? — Brianna asked, her voice low but laced with venom. — What then? Do we drag lifeless bodies through the Vale until we all get caught?

Silence fell heavily, and all eyes turned toward the fire, avoiding Brianna’s gaze.

— They will wake up — Donovan finally said. — There’s no other option. We’ll protect them until they do. That’s what we do as a Council.

— Council — Blake muttered with a bitter chuckle. — What a joke. We’re more divided than any group I’ve ever seen.

Aria suddenly stood, her eyes shining with determination. — Maybe that’s the lesson we need to learn. No Council was ever perfect. History shows that. There were always disputes, rivalries, betrayals. But what kept them standing was the understanding that, in the end, they needed each other.