As Lyon walked across the bridge, he raised his eyebrows and pondered aloud, "Hmm, even Grandpa Long and the others are not allowed." The realization added weight to each step, the bridge seemingly stretching further as he moved forward.
At the end of the bridge was a cave-like platform, ford from ancient, massive roots that intertwined and spiraled into a natural archway. The air grew cooler and more humid as he approached, the scent of earth and old wood filling his nostrils.
Entering the cave, Lyon’s steps echoed softly against the root-covered ground. He made his way toward the center, his senses alert to any movent or sound. The dim light within the cave contrasted sharply with the bright entrance, but a single beam of sunlight pierced through a crack in the ceiling, illuminating the center.
Lyon’s eyes squinted as he approached the source of the light. There, bathed in the golden beam, was a single flower growing from a giant chopped trunk. The flower was unlike anything he had seen before, its petals shimring with an ethereal glow that seed to pulse with the rhythm of the Ley energy surrounding them.
He stopped a few paces away, srized by the sight. The flower stood alone, a symbol of resilience and beauty in the heart of this ancient sanctuary. Lyon could feel the imnse power radiating from it, and he knew this was no ordinary plant.
"You have returned." An ancient voice bellowed.
Lyon was not perturbed by the ancient voice; in fact, he held his ground. "World Tree, or should I call you Yggdrasil?"
"You can call whatever you want," said the World Tree. "I’m too old to care about insults, and too old to feel gratitude toward praises."
Lyon crossed his arms. "I am looking for you, but it seems like you have been waiting for ."
"True," the World Tree continued. "I sensed your presence the mont you arrived in Deo, with no clothes covering your body."
Lyon smirked. "Hmm, wished you had a proper welco for if you knew I had arrived. A boost of motivation or tools would be a welcoming gift then."
"Hahaha," the World Tree’s laughter echoed through the ancient cave. "I know you; you don’t need any help," said the World Tree. "And the proof is you standing here, with that gaze of yours. Oh, how nostalgic that gaze is, just like your father."
Lyon reached out to Cerbi and put the dog down. "Enough with the charade; you blocked the others, and only I could enter this place." He looked at Cerbi, riddled with suspicions.
"Your second life, and you haven’t lost your touch," said the Mortal World, its voice carrying on the wind that rustled Lyon’s hair and robe. Once Lyon regained his balance, he realized Cerbi was nowhere to be seen, as if the creature had lded back into the essence of the world itself.
Lyon’s fists clenched around the gnarled roots that snaked around his ankles, their touch a constant reminder of the ancient power that held him captive. "You know my story, you know why I’m here," he spat, his frustration simring just beneath the surface. The World Tree, its bark etched with the passage of eons, seed to sigh. A rustle of leaves filled the air, a sound both mournful and unsettling, like the whispers of forgotten mories. "I know your story, child," it rumbled in a voice that vibrated through the very ground. "But have you figured out mine?" "I figured out the past," Lyon said, his voice hardening with resolve. "The bloodline of the Torga family flows strong in . But there are still gaps, whole Chapters shrouded in darkness." A low chuckle, like wind rattling through a graveyard, echoed from the World Tree. "Hahaha, so Chapters were never ant to be written, child. So actions fade from mory, leaving only echoes in the void. But I," the voice bood, its power undeniable, "I saw it all." "It didn’t matter then," Lyon countered, his voice unwavering. "I am here for one purpose – to find my father, the one you kept hidden all this ti." The World Tree fell silent, its branches still as stone statues. Tension hung heavy in the air, thick with unspoken secrets and the weight of ages. The silence stretched, a silent scream echoing in the vast emptiness. Finally, the ancient being spoke, its voice a low murmur. "He was sealed for his own good," the World Tree rumbled. "Wrong," Lyon shot back, his voice ringing with defiance. "He sealed himself for one purpose – to stand guard against the All-father of Paradise and the Ancient One of Purgatory, the mont their prisons break." The earth trembled as if in response to Lyon’s words. The World Tree remained silent, its motives shrouded in the twilight of its ancient wisdom. But a flicker of sothing, perhaps doubt, or perhaps fear, danced in the erald depths of its leaves. "I chose peace, World Tree," Lyon’s voice cracked with emotion. "You, who witnessed my demise and the life stolen from my only child, know this to be true. They feared , the one who dared dream of equality with the All-Father and the Ancient One. A fragile alliance they forged for my demise, a pathetic collaboration that still stings with betrayal." Yggdrasil’s ancient branches swayed ever so slightly, a silent acknowledgnt of the pain etched on Lyon’s face. "My mother, too," Lyon continued, his voice low and dangerous. "They silenced the Song of Destruction on her lips, hunted down my kin like cornered beasts. Brothers, sisters, cousins – all vanished, their blood staining the very soil you stand upon. The Torga bloodline, all but extinguished." As he spoke, a raw energy pulsed around Lyon, crackling in the air. His eyes, once filled with sorrow, now burned with an inferno of rage. The World Tree’s leaves rustled in a sudden gust of wind, as if reacting to the storm brewing within him. Lyon slamd his fist against the gnarled root, his brow furrowed in a deep crease. "Now," he growled, the word heavy with the weight of ages. "The All-father... perhaps he has returned. Not the weakling who currently sits on the throne, but the one my father fought against." A tremor ran through the earth as the World Tree’s ancient branches swayed in a sudden, unsettling breeze. "Hmm?!" it rumbled, its voice echoing with a profound sense of foreboding. "Has the ti finally co? The ti for the prophecy to unfold?" Lyon’s jaw clenched. "I killed the Lord of Purgatory," he said, his voice laced with grim satisfaction. "The mighty disciple of the Ancient One, the one who cut my life short in my previous existence. One down, one to go." The World Tree’s leaves rustled ominously, whispering of a coming darkness. "I-I see..." it rasped, its voice laced with a hint of trepidation. "The Ancient One," Lyon spat, the word laced with a bitter satisfaction. "His own disciple, ironically, beca the instrunt of his demise. Though I can’t say I bla him. In his place, with the power he wielded, the darkness he embodied... I might have done the sa." "The Ancient One... dead?" The World Tree’s voice rumbled, a tremor of disbelief echoing within it. "But who then...?" "Purgatory," Lyon continued, a cold glint in his eyes, "is a desolate wasteland now. Just random beasts roaming the empty plains. It’ll be a long ti before it can return to any semblance of its forr glory, if ever." The World Tree’s branches swayed as if in a sudden wind. "What have you done..." it rasped, its voice laced with a hint of sothing far more complex than re surprise. "You’ve upset the balance, Lyon. Without a ruler in Purgatory, chaos could erupt, spilling over into the mortal world in ways we cannot predict." Lyon’s eyes burned with a sharp intensity. "I did what my father set out to do," he said, his voice unwavering. "I restored balance, my balance." "Killing the All-father... with this new wrinkle, it won’t be a straightforward fight." Lyon’s gaze flickered towards the flower, a montary shadow of doubt crossing his face. "That’s why I need his help. My father’s help." "He who mastered the forgotten Ley Lines," Lyon continued, his voice dropping to a reverent whisper, each word echoing the weight of history. "The one who defied the boundaries between realms, the one once known as..." He paused, catching the atmosphere supsended. "...The Omnipotent One!" Lyon declared, his voice ringing with a newfound determination. The World Tree’s branches swayed in a slow, deliberate dance, the leaves rustling as if in silent conversation. A sense of foreboding hung heavy in the air, thick with unspoken warnings and the weight of a decision that could rewrite the very fabric of existence. The ancient being remained silent, its silence a stark contrast to the storm brewing within Lyon. But within that silence, a single erald leaf detached itself from a branch, swirling down towards Lyon in a slow, srizing dance. As it landed softly in his outstretched palm, the leaf shimred with an otherworldly light, a silent promise of a revelation to co.
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