Chapter 281: The Killer of The Lightning Spirit (3) The Truth
Lyan took a deep breath, his eyes meeting Griselda’s for a moment before he focused on the Duke. The cell’s dim light seemed to flicker as he began to chant, his voice low and melodic, resonating with an ancient power. The air around them thickened, charged with energy, as glowing symbols started to appear, swirling around Lyan’s hands. The incantation grew louder, and the symbols formed intricate patterns, creating a magical circle that enveloped them.
"Memoriae Tenebrae, Ostende Nobis Veritatem," Lyan intoned, his voice echoing off the stone walls.
The Duke, still unconscious, began to tremble, his body responding to the pull of Lyan’s magic. The air inside the cell grew colder, and the glow of the magic circle intensified, casting an eerie light over their faces. Griselda watched in silence, her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for what Lyan’s spell would bring her.
A shimmering screen appeared before them, hazy at first but gradually becoming clearer. It was as if they were looking through a window into another world, a world that held the Duke’s darkest memories.
The scene began to unfold. The Duke was in a dense forest, riding in his carriage. His face was stern, his eyes scanning the surroundings warily. The carriage jostled over the uneven ground, the wheels creaking under the weight of their haste. Suddenly, shadows moved among the trees. Black-cloaked figures emerged, their faces hidden, their movements swift and silent. The Duke’s eyes narrowed as he signaled his guards.
"Prepare for an ambush," he ordered, his voice calm but authoritative.
His guards drew their weapons, forming a protective ring around the carriage. The tension was palpable as the cloaked figures closed in. A fierce battle erupted, the clashing of swords and the cries of combatants echoing through the forest. The Duke fought valiantly, his blade flashing in the dim light, cutting down his attackers with precision and skill.
"Hold the line!" he shouted, his voice steady despite the chaos.
But the enemy was relentless. More figures emerged from the shadows, overwhelming the Duke’s men. His guards fell one by one, and the Duke found himself surrounded. His expression hardened as he faced the leader of the attackers, a tall figure whose presence radiated power.
"You are outmatched, Duke," the leader said, his voice cold and mocking.
The Duke responded with a fierce glare, raising his sword. "I will not fall to the likes of you," he declared, charging forward.