Once Betrayed Never Forgotten

Chapter 125: The Portal to Nowhere

Pyra stund before the assembled leaders on the Tortured Plains, leading them in the ritual to open the portal.

The ancient tome rests in Pyra’s hands, its dark, rich forest green leather cover wom smooth from centuries of hidden existence. Each page is a canvas of meticulously detailed illustrations, the colors still vibrant, depicting the sprawling landscapes of the realms. The script that flows across the pages is a work of art in sell, written in lively, dowing green ink that twists and spirals like the tendrils of a living vine. It feels as though the words themselves are growing, breathing entities, extending across the parchment in elegant loops and curls.

I stand beside Pyra, watching how her golden eyes scanning the pages with intense focus. I watch as she studies the intricate diagram depicting six figures, each adorned with a crown representing their respective realms, their hands joined around a swirling black vortex. The portal to the secret seventh realm.

Pra begins to translate the Druid’s words penned below the illustration. “After many decades of laborious study in utter solitude, I have formed a theory of sorts. I believe that in order to open up a portal to the Realm of Nowhere, a representative from each of the six reales mest assemble, combining their powers to create an anti–portal, a sort of temporary passageway into the land of shadows. As those of royal lineage are traditionally more powerful, the six participants should ideally be nobles, the rightful rulers of their realms. It is only through the meeting of the six streams that the way shall open”

“The six streams are blood streams,” Pyra explains to the assembled leaders of the realms, her voice echoing. “The royal lineages. You, in other words.”

Under her instruction, the leaders of each realm gather in a circle, their expressions grim and determined. Kieran of the Verde Clan, ruler of the Earth realm, stands tall with his piercing hazel eyes gleaming with purpose. Dmitri of the Fontana Clan, ruler of the Fire realm, exudes an aura of fiery intensity, his presence commanding Anya, the matriarch of the Night Clan, her regal armor glinting in the starlight, stands with unwavering resolve. Mara of the Odella Clan, her key demeanor reflecting the cold depths of her watery realm, regards the others with a steely gaze. Yun of the Alisal Clan, ruler of the Twilight realm, stands poised and alert, her violet eves sharp and calculating Arden of the Calia Clan, the ethereal leader of the Celestial realm, his shimmering form glowing with an otherworldly light completes the circle.

The six rulers join hands, their combined power palpable in the air. Pyra begins to read the incantation from the book, her voice rising and falling in a rhythmic chant. The ancient words resonate with a deep, primal energy, filling the air with a palpable tension.

Airing black vortex begins to form at the center of the circle, time at first, a pinprick of darkness, unter deepest vold. It grows larger and larger, the void expanding with a menacing grace. The air huma with the raw power of the incantation, the ground beneath our feet trembling as the portal swells

“Let go of your hands and make room,” Pyra instructs the leaders. They release their grip and step back, the portal continuing to expand until it is the size of a double story house, a gaping maw of black nothingness. Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

One by one, the armies begin to enter the portal. The Earth army, led by one of Kieran’s most trusted generals, is the first to step throug, followed by the Fire army. Next, the armies of the Watery, Celestial and Twilight realm follow, with the Night army bringing up the rear.

I watch as the armies disappear into the portal, one by one. The wolf warriors, led by Luka, follow suit. They are tense, their eyes flicking nervously at the sight of the ominous portal, but they obey Luka’s orders without question

Aleksandr moves to my side, his presence a comforting strength. “Are you ready?” he asks, his voice low and steady.

I nod, my heart pounding with a mix of fat and determination. “Let’s do this.”

Hand in hand, we step through the portal, the darkness swallowing us whole. The sensation is disorienting, like being pulled through a tunnel at lightning speed. The world around us dissolves into a blur of shadows and light, the boundaries of reality shifting and bending. It’s different to the other portals – a blur of swirling gry smoke, and the sensation of having all the air sucked from my lungs

We emerge on the other side into a landscape of swirling greyness, an endless expanse of nothingness that stretches in all directions. The air is heavy with an eerie silence, broken only by the faint whisper of wind. The ground beneath our feet is insubstantial, as if we could fall through it at any moment.

“It’s just like my dream,” I whisper, the memory of the prophetic vision sending a shiver down my spine.

Luka, now fully transformed into his alpha form, steps forward, his eyes glowing with a este, ver light. “We must move quickly,” he says, his voice a low growl The scent is faint, but I can still track it. Follow me

We fall into formation, the armies of the six realms flanking us as we move through the Reatureless wasteland. The sense of purpose is palpable, each step bringing un closer to our goal.

As we march, I can’t help but marvel at the unity and diversity of our forces. The warriors of the Earth realm move with a grounded grace, their connection to the natural world evident in every step. The Watery trains soldiers are fluid and agile, their movements like the ebb and flow of the tides. The Celestial warriors are a beacon of light, their presence a constant source of hope. The Twilight archers are swift and precise, their eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of danger. The Night army is a shadowy force, their movements silent and deadly. And the Fiery realm’s soldiers are a blazing inferno, their resolve burning as fiercely as their

Luka leads in with unwavering confidence, his senses attuned to the slightest hint of Werde’s presence. The path is treacherous, the ground shifting and changing beneath our feet, but Lukas keen instincts guide us through the grey nothingness.

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Chapter 125: The Portal to Nowhere

After what feels like hours of relentless marching. Loka suddenly halts, his ears pricked and his nose twitching. “We’re close,” he says, his voice tense with anticipation. Tran smell her.”