New God(wheel of time)

Chapter 24: The Weight of Knowledge

Eryndor stood in the center of the clearing, the remnants of the dark figure's presence fading, but the tension in the air only growing more palpable. The wind had died down, and the trees stood still once again, their branches heavy with the lingering echoes of the storm that had passed. But the world felt different now—heavier, as if the balance of all things had shifted in an irreversible way.

Moraine remained close, her hand still gripping the hilt of her sword, her eyes narrowed as she surveyed the clearing. She didn't trust the figure that had appeared, and neither did Eryndor. It was clear that whoever—or whatever—it was, had plans that went far beyond them.

"You should have killed it," Moraine said softly, her voice edged with frustration. "That could have been our only chance to stop whatever is coming."

Eryndor looked down at her, his expression unreadable. "I don't know if it was something that could be killed. It wasn't just a man or a beast. It felt..." His words faltered as he tried to explain the sensation that had flooded him. It was as if the being had been part of the very fabric of the world, something older than even he was. Something tied to the deep forces that governed reality itself.

"Felt like what?" Moraine pressed, stepping closer. "You can't let whatever this is dictate your actions. It is trying to manipulate you."

He nodded, the weight of her words sinking in. He couldn't let that happen. But what if the figure was right? What if his very existence was somehow tied to a choice he couldn't escape? The idea made him uneasy, but he couldn't deny that some part of him—some primal part—was drawn to the truth that the figure had hinted at.

"The path ahead is unknown," he said, finally breaking the silence. "But whatever it is, I have to find a way to walk it on my terms. I can't be swayed by anyone or anything."

Moraine studied him for a long moment, before she nodded in agreement. "Then we will walk it together. But you need to be more than just the power you hold, Eryndor. You need to learn to control it before it controls you."

He met her gaze, feeling the weight of those words. Control. He had not yet fully grasped the vastness of his abilities, and the encounter with the figure had only amplified his doubts. But Moraine was right. If he wanted to remain in control of his destiny, he would need to understand his power—and what it meant in the grander scheme of things.

Before he could respond, a distant howl echoed through the trees, cutting through the silence like a blade. It was followed by another, and another—growing louder, closer.

Moraine's hand flew to her sword, her expression hardening. "We're not alone."

Eryndor's senses flared, and he spun around, his eyes scanning the surrounding forest. There, on the edge of the clearing, a large shape moved in the shadows—dark, hulking, and impossible to ignore. His first instinct was to summon his power, but he hesitated. Something about the presence felt different, darker. It wasn't just the usual threats they faced.

The figure stepped into the light, revealing itself fully. It was a monstrous creature—half-human, half-beast—its eyes glowing with an unnatural fire, its body covered in jagged, black scales. It was a Trolloc, but unlike any Trolloc Eryndor had ever seen before. This one was larger, more formidable, its aura exuding a sense of malevolent purpose that sent a shiver down his spine.

Moraine stepped in front of him instinctively, raising her sword. "Stay behind me," she commanded, though Eryndor knew she didn't fully trust the situation.

But Eryndor wasn't afraid. Not of the Trolloc. Not of anything. Whatever this creature was, it was an obstacle—and he was determined to face it head-on.

He stepped forward, his presence commanding and confident. The divine energy within him stirred, responding to the threat, though he held it in check for now. He didn't need to kill the creature; he needed to understand it.

"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice like thunder, as his eyes locked onto the creature.

The Trolloc paused, its fiery gaze narrowing. It bared its teeth in a grotesque snarl, but it didn't charge. Instead, it spoke in a language Eryndor didn't recognize, though the malice in its tone was unmistakable.

"I am no simple beast," the Trolloc rasped, its voice low and guttural. "I am the harbinger of what is to come. The choice has been made, Eryndor. Your time is running out."

Moraine's eyes flicked between the creature and Eryndor, clearly unsure of how to proceed. "What does it mean?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Eryndor's gaze remained steady, his mind working furiously. Harbinger. The word echoed in his mind like a distant drumbeat. It didn't make sense. But he had learned that the forces at play were far greater than he had originally understood.

He stepped closer, and the air around him shimmered with an invisible energy. "What choice are you talking about?"

The Trolloc's eyes glowed brighter, its form starting to blur as if reality itself was bending under its presence. "The choice to either stand against the coming darkness or bow before it," it hissed. "Your power will not be enough to defy what is coming."

Eryndor's pulse quickened. Whatever this was—whatever the forces at work were—it was far beyond what he had expected. But it wasn't something he could ignore.

He raised a hand, palm facing the creature, and summoned the power within himself. This time, the light was blinding, a force so pure and intense that it lit up the entire clearing. The Trolloc recoiled, its form faltering under the pressure of Eryndor's energy. But it didn't retreat—it only snarled, more determined than ever.

"I will not bow," Eryndor declared, his voice unwavering, as the power surged around him. "And neither will anyone else."

The Trolloc's form flickered one last time before it collapsed into nothingness, vanishing into the wind as if it had never been.

Moraine stood silently, watching the aftermath, her expression one of disbelief. "What did you just do?"

Eryndor looked down at his hands, his mind still processing the encounter. "I didn't kill it. I made it... disappear. It's as if I called upon the very fabric of existence itself to erase it."

He turned to face her, his eyes intense, and for the first time, she saw a glimmer of something deeper in his gaze. A knowledge. An awareness. He wasn't just learning to control his power. He was becoming something far more than he had ever been.

"We need to move," he said, his voice steady. "There's more coming. And we're not ready for what's ahead."

Moraine nodded, her sword sheathed, but her hand still tight around its hilt. "Then let's find a way to prepare."

Together, they walked through the forest, but Eryndor knew that their journey had just begun. The forces of the world were converging, and soon, the true nature of his existence would be revealed.

And with it, the choice that would shape the future of everything.