ShadowBound: The Need For Power Chapter 514: Echoes Of The Past (7)

The image before them began to shift once more, the burning ruins of Azareth slowly dissolving into sothing far calr—almost painfully serene. The scarlet skies turned into soft hues of gold, stretching across a horizon so vast it felt endless. Erald plains rolled beneath a sun that glowed like a living heart. Rivers of silver water glimred through valleys of mist. Mountains stood proud in the distance, and within their shadows, villages thrived, smoke curling lazily from hearths.

It was a world untouched by chaos—a realm so alive that the re sight of it eased the soul. Birds soared across sapphire skies, and humans walked the fields, smiling as though they had never known what war, famine, or despair felt like. The sound of laughter echoed faintly as Aesmirius’s voice ca, distant and heavy with mory.

"Amthar," he said softly, his eyes locked upon the landscape. "The realm of man. The cradle of serenity." He turned to Liam, expression calm but faintly nostalgic. "Aa you alright saw, back when I had destroyed more than half of Oline, I rebuilt what remained... reshaped its very core into this realm. Amthar. I didn’t even understand why I did it at the ti. Perhaps instinct guided —or perhaps Aetherion’s lingering will. But when I returned here, weakened and seeking restoration, I realized I had been preparing for a day like this all along... without ever knowing it."

Liam, who had been staring at the peaceful scene, rubbed his temples and groaned softly. "You just said stuff you already said before. What happened to stickinh to the relevant stuff? C’mon old man, skip all this filler monologue. I’m starting to feel the mory recoil again, and I really don’t want to black out in your little nostalgia session."

Aesmirius sighed—an exasperated, drawn-out sound that carried more weariness than irritation. "You mortals truly have no patience," he muttered, before nodding. "Very well."

He gestured toward the vision once more, and it began to move—like watching ti itself accelerate. The humans continued their daily lives, unaware that sothing godlike had once walked among them.

"When I ca to Amthar," Aesmirius began again, "I made no announcent of my return. I didn’t want the humans to know I existed. They didn’t need gods... not anymore. Their peace was fragile, built upon ignorance, and I had no wish to disturb it."

The vision zood in upon a solitary figure atop a high mountain peak—a cloaked form seated in absolute stillness, eyes closed, surrounded by rings of faint, golden light.

"So I erased my presence," Aesmirius said quietly. "I withdrew from the world and entered deep ditation. For centuries, I remained there—drifting between consciousness and silence. My only purpose was to restore my strength, to heal what remained of my essence after the battle with Volgath."

The scene shimred as centuries flickered by—mountains eroded, forests grew and died, civilizations rose and fell. Yet Aesmirius remained unmoved, as though ti itself could not touch him.

"But even after all that," he continued, his voice lowering, "though I regained much of my power, I knew... I was not the sa. Sothing within had fractured beyond repair. My body—my vessel—no longer resonated with Aetherion as it once had."

Liam raised a brow, expression sharpening with curiosity. "So what—you lost your touch? Or was it just your pride hurting because you couldn’t reach full tyrant anymore?"

Aesmirius shot him a glare, then continued without answering. "It was then I ca to understand how Aetherion truly worked. Her power... was vast beyond comprehension. But that power could never be fully wielded unless the vessel—the body—was perfect. Balanced and unyielding."

Liam frowned slightly. "If that’s the case, then how did you manage to inherit it in the first place? From what I saw, you were frail as frail can be when you were human."

A faint smirk crossed Aesmirius’s lips. "I was. My body was fragile, barely capable of withstanding even the smallest strain of divine energy. But when I entered the Well of Genesis for the first ti—when I stepped into the realm of Aetherion itself—my body was reforged. The Well burned away the mortal shell I once had and replaced it with sothing else. Sothing capable of holding her power."

"That was the only reason I could inherit her power," Aesmirius said. "But after the battle with Volgath... that vessel was damaged. His corruption seeped into my essence and tainted what I was. I lost part of my strength—permanently. The level of power I once wielded beca unreachable. My light, though eternal, had dimd."

He paused, eyes distant. "That knowledge placed in a difficult position. I could not ascend again... not without risking annihilation. But I knew a way—a dangerous one. One I despised even thinking of."

Liam tilted his head. "Let guess—you had to give up your power."

Aesmirius’s gaze turned sharp. "Not give up. Pass on. There is a difference. Aetherion passed her power to when she was exhausted of it. If I wished for Aetherion’s light to survive—and for Volgath to one day fall—I needed to do the sa."

Liam blinked, unimpressed. "Knowing you, it obvious you didn’t want to find soone like she did, right? You probably decided to play god and did sothing outrageous."

Aesmirius gave a faint smirk. "You sure know how to analyze things quickly, just like your mother."

Liam said nothing and just shifted his gaze back to the scene before him.

"Rather than search endlessly for a suitable host, I turned myself into a mortal once more—a human—and sought out the strongest affinity I could find, one that could produce an offspring worthy of Aetherion’s inheritance."

He turned his head slightly, his voice lowering. "The benefit of passing Aetherion’s power to an offspring was that I could transfer my consciousness along with it. My mind, my will, my mories—all preserved within the successor. A new vessel... born of divine and mortal lineage."

Liam gave him that look again—that unimpressed, expressionless, judgntal stare he had mastered perfectly. "So you basically wanted to make a backup version of yourself inside soone else. Yeah, I knew it from the start but you just confird it. You sure are greedy."

Aesmirius ignored the jab, though the faint twitch of his eye betrayed irritation. "I chose the affinity of dark magic."

That caught Liam’s attention. He tilted his head, gaze narrowing. "...Dark magic?"

"Yes," Aesmirius replied evenly. "At that ti, dark mages were the strongest among the mortals. It was perfect. By rging Aetherion’s light with the essence of darkness, I could forge a balance unlike any other. Light and shadow as one—creation and destruction intertwined. If done right, it would grant control over both the divine and the abyssal—the perfect counter to Volgath’s chaos. His power stems from pure darkness; to destroy him, one must master it as well."

The scene shifted again, showing Aesmirius walking through mortal kingdoms in human form—his divine radiance muted, eyes carrying the quiet weight of eternity. Yet his expression remained cold, distant, like a god pretending to be human but failing to understand their emotions.

"However," Aesmirius continued, "things... did not go as I planned. The process of finding a vessel strong enough proved far more difficult than I expected. Many who carried my bloodline died before the transference could even begin. Their bodies burned from within, unable to bear the strain of Aetherion’s essence. None were suitable."

The illusion darkened as shadowed forms—echoes of failed vessels—appeared one by one, fading like smoke in the wind.

"And each failure weakened my form further. Every ti I attempted the transformation from spirit to flesh in order to transfer Aetherion, my body degraded. Eventually, I could no longer return to the physical plane at all. I beca... trapped. A spirit bound to the realm, able only to observe, unable to act."

A long silence followed before he spoke again, quieter this ti. "After centuries of wandering across Amthar, searching for a successor and finding none, I grew tired. So, I created a sanctuary at the heart of the realm—a place untouched by human hands. There, I would rest until fate brought forth the one capable of inheriting my power."

The projection shifted for the final ti. Deep within the heart of Amthar, an endless forest stretched across the land, its trees dark as night, their roots glowing faintly with violet veins of mystic energy. Mist hung thick in the air, and in its depths, shadows moved like living whispers.

"That place..." Aesmirius said softly, "was called the Forest of Kyrell. Or, as mortals ca to na it later—the Dark Forest. It beca my sanctuary, prison, and tomb."

The vision lingered on the heart of the forest, where a faint pulse of light throbbed deep beneath the ground.

"For centuries," Aesmirius finished, his tone low, almost reflective, "I waited in silence... until you ca to set free."