crown of self-interest

The moon hung low in the night sky, casting a silvery glow over the ruins of the Aetherborn civilization. Raelan and Lirael sat among the survivors, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and the lingering magic that clung to the remnants of their lost world. Flickering firelight danced against their faces, illuminating the pain and determination etched in their features.

“Tell me again about the Celestial Nexus,” Raelan prompted, hoping to draw out more of the Aetherborn’s stories. “I want to understand the magic you wielded.”

Lirael smiled faintly, a flicker of warmth breaking through her sorrow. “The Celestial Nexus was the heart of our magic. It connected us to the cosmos, allowing us to draw on the energies of the stars. We could weave spells that echoed through the very fabric of reality, creating harmony in our lives and our world.”

“Is that what Zaros wanted?” Raelan asked, his curiosity piqued. “To steal that magic?”

“Not just the magic,” Lirael replied, her voice steady but filled with emotion. “He sought to extinguish our light, to isolate us from the very essence of our being. He feared what we could accomplish together, the unity we shared.”

One of the survivors, a young Aetherborn man named Eryndor, spoke up, his voice shaky yet filled with conviction. “What do we do now? Can we truly rise again after what’s happened? After so much loss?”

Raelan looked around the circle, meeting the eyes of each survivor. “I understand the weight of your despair,” he said, his voice firm but compassionate. “But hope is a flame that cannot be easily extinguished. Together, we can reignite the magic of the Aetherborn. We will reclaim what is ours, not just for ourselves, but for those who are gone.”

“What if Zaros comes back?” Lirael asked, her expression earnest. “What if he seeks to finish what he started?”

Raelan leaned forward, intensity in his gaze. “Then we will be ready for him. This time, we will not be caught off guard. We will gather our strength and our magic, and we will stand united.”

“But how?” Eryndor asked, his brow furrowing with doubt. “We’re just a handful of survivors. How can we face a force like Zaros?”

“By believing in each other,” Raelan replied, his voice gaining strength. “Each of you carries a piece of our history, our legacy. We will weave those pieces into a tapestry of resistance. Our past can fuel our future.”

Lirael’s eyes shone with unshed tears. “But how do we even begin?”

“First, we must reconnect with the remnants of our magic,” Raelan said, looking each of them in the eye. “We need to search for the remaining artifacts scattered across these ruins. Every shard of our legacy is a key to our strength.”

“What if we can’t find them?” Eryndor asked, fear creeping into his voice.

“Then we will create new magic,” Raelan replied with resolve. “Magic that honors our past while forging a new path. We are not merely shadows of what we once were; we are the essence of the Aetherborn, and our light will shine again.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the group, and for the first time in a long while, hope began to take root among them.

As the night deepened, Raelan proposed a plan. “Tomorrow, we will split into small groups and search the surrounding area for any signs of artifacts. We will gather whatever we can find and bring it back here. The more pieces we collect, the stronger our magic will become.”

Lirael nodded, a determined glint in her eyes. “I’ll lead one of the groups. We’ll cover the eastern ruins where the Celestial Nexus once thrived.”

“I’ll take the west,” Eryndor said, newfound courage rising within him. “I remember stories about the Windspire—a place of great power. There may still be something left.”

Raelan smiled, feeling a warmth in his chest. “Good. We’ll meet back here at sundown to share what we’ve found. Together, we’ll create a new beginning.”

As the fire crackled and the stars twinkled above, the Aetherborn began to share stories of their past, tales of joy interwoven with loss. The night became a tapestry of voices, laughter mingling with tears, and for the first time in a long time, Raelan felt a sense of belonging amidst the ruins.

He found himself beside Lirael as the conversation swirled around them. “You know,” he said quietly, “your people’s magic isn’t lost. It’s just waiting to be reborn.”

Lirael turned to him, her gaze steady. “And what if we fail? What if we can’t reclaim it?”

“We won’t fail,” Raelan replied, his tone unwavering. “Failure isn’t in our nature. Each challenge we face only serves to strengthen us. Remember, light only shines brightest in the darkest of times.”

“Then I will fight for that light,” she declared, her voice firm. “For our people, for our home.”

“And I will stand beside you,” Raelan promised, feeling the weight of their shared responsibility settle between them. “Together, we will ensure that the Aetherborn rise again.”

As the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, casting a warm glow over the ruins, Raelan felt a flicker of hope ignite within him. This was more than just a fight against Zaros; it was a journey toward healing and reclaiming the essence of who they were.

They would not be defined by their losses, but by their resilience. The Aetherborn would rise, and with them, a new future would unfold—one filled with magic, unity, and a light that would shine brighter than before.