Chapter 84: The Heart of the Seals
The forest was silent.
Not the peaceful silence of dawn, but the kind that carried warning—the hush before a storm, the breath before a scream. As Elara, Ariella, and Percy left the village behind, the ashes of what once was seemed to cling to their boots.
They didn't speak much. Each carried thoughts too heavy for words.
The journey led them east, past the cliffs and crevices, into the forgotten stretch of woods the villagers called the Hallowed Hollow. According to the Queens, this was where the original seals had first been forged—a place steeped in ancient magic.
Mist rolled low across the ground. Shadows moved where no trees stood. Even the birds dared not sing.
By midday, they found it—a stone arch buried in ivy and cracked by time. Carvings of serpents and swirling lines decorated the entrance. Elara ran her fingers along the patterns. The symbols pulsed faintly under her touch.
"This is it," she whispered.
Inside, the passage led them down into a wide chamber half-swallowed by roots. In its center stood a pedestal made of blackened crystal, broken and oozing faint, smoky tendrils. Around it, six smaller pedestals stood, arranged in a circle—five shattered, one intact.
A voice echoed in their minds before they could speak.
"The seals were born of unity—three hearts, one purpose. To restore what is broken, that unity must live again."
The Blue and White Queens appeared behind them, not in mist, but in full spectral form. Their faces were solemn.
"Three sacrifices were made to create the original seals—one of magic, one of blood, and one of memory," the White Queen explained.
"To restore them, you must offer the same," the Blue Queen continued.
Elara swallowed hard. "What do we have to do?"
The Queens raised their hands. A golden glow emerged from the floor, swirling into a basin between the pedestals. Inside it lay a single, glowing shard—like a sliver of moonlight trapped in stone.
"The Sealshard," whispered Percy. "It's beautiful…"
"It will absorb the essence of your offerings," said the White Queen. "Infuse it with your intent—then it can reseal each corrupted site. But it must be all three of you. If any one of you hesitates, the shard will fracture."
They didn't hesitate.
Ariella stepped forward first, placing her palm on the shard. Her eyes closed.
"I offer my magic, born in pain, shaped in loss. I give it freely, to protect."
Golden light surged through her arm and into the shard.
Next was Percy.
"I offer my blood, not as a warrior, but as one who's seen what power destroys. Let this be enough."
A single drop fell from his palm onto the shard, soaking into it like water on thirsty soil. The glow deepened.
Then Elara stepped forward. Her voice trembled but held strong.
"I offer my memories—the ones that hurt, the ones that anchor me. Let them build something better."
Images flickered around her—her parents smiling, the first time she met Ariella, the night the village burned. As the memories passed into the shard, the crystal turned brilliant white.
The chamber trembled.
Light surged outward from the shard in a pulse that knocked them all to their knees. When it faded, the crystal floated before them—alive, humming with ancient magic.
"The Sealshard will guide you," the Blue Queen said, her voice now fading. "Touch it to the corrupted sites. One by one, the seals will close. But be warned—Laxman will feel every one."
"We're ready," Ariella said, standing tall.
The Queens looked at them one last time. "When the last seal is restored, you will find Laxman waiting. End it—before the world becomes his."
---
They set off immediately.
The first corrupted site lay in the mountains beyond the village—an old stone altar once used for rain prayers. It now crackled with black lightning. When Elara pressed the Sealshard to its surface, the darkness shrieked and twisted—but then vanished, pulled into the light.
One down.
The second was near the granary. They arrived to find the corrupted villager—his veins darker than before, eyes soulless. He lunged at them, possessed. Percy knocked him out with a well-aimed stone, and Ariella pressed the shard to the earth beneath him.
Another pulse. The blackness faded from his skin.
Two down.
The third was deep beneath the village well. They climbed down, found ancient carvings etched in the stone, and pressed the shard there. The water, once murky, cleared instantly.
Three down.
The fourth was harder—it was at the graveyard. Many villagers had buried loved ones here recently. The air was thick with sorrow and something else… laughter.
Twisted, cold laughter that came from nowhere.
They faced wailing spirits—shadows of the dead, raised by Laxman's decay. Elara nearly faltered, seeing her grandfather among them. But Percy took her hand, and Ariella shouted through the chaos, "They're not real!"
She was right. They vanished the moment the shard touched the earth.
Four down.
The fifth was inside the old meeting hut—the place where the secret council had plotted to exile them. As they approached, they found it burned down. Only the foundation remained.
But the corruption lingered.
Elara placed the shard into the ashes. The ground shook, then stilled. The last pulse was stronger than the rest.
Five down.
---
As the sixth and final location drew near—an ancient tree stump in the forest where the very first seal had been placed—they felt him.
Laxman.
Not in form, but in pressure.
The air turned thick. The ground cracked beneath their feet. The trees twisted unnaturally.
But they pressed on.
Elara gripped the shard tightly. "This ends now."
As they reached the stump, black smoke began to rise from the cracks. A face formed in the shadows—eyes like obsidian, smile like a wound.
"You think you can fix what I've begun?" the voice hissed, vibrating through their bones.
"Yes," Ariella said.
She stepped forward with Elara and Percy, hands touching the shard together.
The light exploded.
A scream tore through the forest as the seal flared brighter than the sun, burning the shadow away. The tree stump split, and then sealed itself, whole and glowing once again.
Six down. All sealed.
---
Silence followed.
Then birds began to sing.
For the first time in days, warmth touched the wind.
They didn't speak right away. Just stood there, breathless, watching the corruption fade into nothing.
Elara turned to the others. "We did it. But it's not over."
"No," Ariella agreed. "Now, we rebuild. We show them the village can heal. Then we take the fight to Laxman."
Percy looked at the fading light in the Sealshard. "This won't be enough to stop him. But it gave us a chance."
"And that's all we need," Elara said.
---
They walked back to the village, expecting the worst—wounded villagers, lingering darkness, perhaps even another fight.
But the chaos was gone.
The corruption that had slithered through the streets, the sickness that clung to the walls, the thick clouds that choked the skies—all of it had vanished with the resealing of the seals. The village was quiet, not with fear, but peace. For the first time, the air smelled clean.
They were met by a group near the village square—villagers who once cast stones now approached with downcast eyes and hesitant steps. Among them were the elders who had plotted to banish them, their expressions etched with regret.
"We were wrong," one muttered, not daring to meet Ariella's eyes. "We didn't understand… We only saw danger."
"We're sorry," whispered another. "We owe you everything."
Ariella didn't flinch. Her eyes were cold, unreadable.
"Your apologies won't bring back my mother," she said, her voice calm but sharp as a blade. "You looked the other way when we needed you."
The crowd shifted awkwardly, ashamed. No one had a response. Even the loudest elders said nothing now.
Elara glanced at Ariella, then said quietly, "What matters is what we do next. If you want to help—start by helping rebuild. The village still needs healing."
The villagers nodded. No more protests. Just quiet resolve.
---
Far away, in the depths of a place twisted by shadow, Laxman stirred.
He felt it.
Each time a seal was restored, something had been torn from him—some tether he'd crafted with decay and fear. Now, with the final seal resealed, the void within him pulsed violently.
His hands trembled. The shadows that had once obeyed him recoiled.
"They dare," he snarled. "They weaken me."
He clenched his fists, but the power did not return. It flickered—unsteady.
For the first time, Laxman felt something he hadn't in years.
Doubt.
And that was more dangerous than any weapon.