Chapter 91: Aftermath
The world seemed draped in an ethereal shroud, a realm of pure white where buildings, pillars, and the flowing robes of its inhabitants gleamed like polished ivory.
Within the grand cathedral of this alabaster city, a woman adorned in white robes and shimmering gold jewelry rose abruptly from her prayers. Her eyes, sharp and resolute, turned to the ranks of paladins clad in pristine white armor reaching the doors.
"He’s been chosen," she declared, her voice echoing with divine certainty. "Let’s go."
...
Across the globe, in shadowed halls and ancient fortresses, a select few stirred. They had sensed the pulse of energy that rippled through the world. At first, they dismissed it as a fluke months ago, but now, it lingered in the air, undeniably powerful and potent. Fear gripped some, greed others, and ambition drove the rest. The balance of power had shifted; now they would actively move to seek it.
...
In the time it took for the Darkans to rest and begin their march to the capital, news of the Darkan victory spread like wildfire, carried by breathless messengers who raced to deliver every detail before memory failed them. In the courts of rival powers, leaders listened, their eyes widening with each revelation.
"The Darkans are dragons again." One messenger reported, trembling. "They reclaimed their heritage just before the war."
"They split their forces," another added. "One battled in the valley, another crossed the Forest of Beasts."
The strategies, the cunning schemes, and the brutal execution of the war unfolded in their reports. The leaders leaned forward, gripped by the tale of the Silver apostle’s descent, wielding divine power that should have ensured victory. But then came the impossible twist.
"Their authority and divine power vanished," a messenger whispered, voice quaking. "No one knows how."