Elysia
Chapter 5: The Legend of the Ruined King and the Price of a Promise

Elysia's elegant, sharp question hung in the air like a blade poised to fall. The space between them felt like a vacuum, filled by the inability of the world's leaders to form words. How does one explain an apocalyptic nightmare to someone who seemed to exist outside the very concept of nightmares?

King Theron looked into Elysia's calm blue eyes, and for the first time, he saw not just power, but an unbridgeable chasm of understanding. Yet, the question had to be answered. A prolonged silence would only show weakness. With a heavy breath, as if lifting the weight of his world's entire history onto his shoulders, he began to speak.

"He… he is not like the demons you might know in your domain, O Ruler," Theron began, his voice hoarse yet steady. "We do not call him a Demon Lord because he leads legions from Hell. We call him that because he intends to turn our world into his own version of hell."

Theron gazed into the distance, his eyes unfocused as if he were reading an ancient scripture etched into the air. "According to the oldest texts, which existed even before my Elven race first set foot in these forests, there was an entity known as the Primordial King. His name has been lost to most of history, but a few fragments refer to him as Malgorath. He was not a demon, a god, or a man. He was something older."

"Malgorath was obsessed with one thing: absolute eternity. Not merely living forever, but absolute control over the cycle of life and death itself. He saw creation—birth, growth, death, and decay—as a flaw. An irregularity that had to be corrected. In his arrogance, he sought to 'perfect' reality."

Archmage Gideon continued, his voice low and filled with a dreadful awe. "He delved into knowledge that should never have been found. Primordial magic, the powers that existed before the gods established the laws of nature. He made a pact with… the 'Silent Chaos', a starving entity from outside reality that wishes only to see all of creation return to a uniform nothingness. In exchange, Malgorath was given the power to 'unmake' existence."

"He doesn't kill," added Saintess Annelise, her voice trembling. "He 'erases'. The cities he touched did not become ruins; they vanished as if they had never been. The people who opposed him did not become corpses; the memory of them was eroded from the minds of those they loved. He is the King of Ruin, whose goal is to return the universe to a state of absolute zero."

"The ancient gods and heroes eventually managed to seal him," Theron concluded. "But they could not destroy him. They could only put him to sleep in a seal powered by the very heart of this world. A prophecy was left behind: after ten millennia have passed, when the world's power has waned, the seal will crack. Malgorath will rise again to finish his work."

"Those ten millennia… are about to end," Queen Lyra said in a near-whisper. "The signs are everywhere. Plagues that holy magic cannot cure, twisted monsters emerging from the shadows, and small fissures in the divine barriers that protect our world. That is why we are so desperate. We are not facing a conqueror. We are facing an extinction event."

The story was told. They had laid bare their greatest fear, their world's darkest secret. They looked at Elysia, expecting a reaction—shock, concern, or perhaps even anxiety.

Elysia remained silent for a few moments after Theron had finished. Her head was tilted slightly, as if she were processing the information. Outwardly, she appeared as calm as ever. Inwardly, however, an entirely different understanding was forming.

Malgorath... the King of Ruin... she thought. The name meant nothing to her. But his methods... oh, she was intimately familiar with his methods.

A pact with a chaotic entity from outside reality? The power to 'unmake' existence? That was the forbidden art she had encountered in the deepest, most dangerous circles of Hell. In places where reality itself was thin and fragile, she had faced ancient demons who played with such powers. They were beings who could erase a concept from existence with a mere thought. She hadn't just faced them. She had defeated them, absorbed their knowledge, and understood the nature of that power to its very core.

From her perspective, Malgorath was not an apocalyptic threat.

So, their apocalypse is a second-rate sorcerer who made a bad deal with a power he can't control, Elysia thought with a cold amusement. He's not a king; he's just a slave who was given a dangerous toy. What a common tragedy.

The irony was so immense it almost made her smile. This world's greatest fear was, to the Ruler of Hell, a problem that could be solved on a boring afternoon.

"I see," Elysia finally said, breaking the tense silence. She looked at them with a gaze that seemed to see deep into their souls. "A king who wished to become a god, but became a slave instead. A common tale."

Her casual, dismissive analysis of their apocalypse made the blood in the leaders' veins run cold. They had just described the end of their world, and she had responded as if it were a review of a poorly written play.

Her curiosity was now satisfied. She lost interest in the conversation. "You have my terms," she said, her tone becoming flat and final once more. "Bring me the child, and you will have your stones. Now go. My peace has been disturbed long enough."

Without any visible movement, a gentle yet irresistible pressure pushed against them. It was not a physical shove, but a 'suggestion' from reality itself that compelled them to retreat. Reluctantly, King Theron and the others stood and walked away from the stream, leaving Elysia alone in her tranquility once again.

The journey back to the camp was heavy. No one spoke. The air was filled with the weight of the decision they had to make. Inside the command tent, the same faces that were filled with warlike determination just hours ago were now etched with moral exhaustion.

"This is madness," Commander Borin began, breaking the silence. "But it's our only choice. Sacrificing one life to save billions. The math is brutal, but it is clear."

"We cannot!" Saintess Annelise retorted, her eyes glistening with anger and sorrow. "We cannot sacrifice an innocent child! It goes against every tenet of the Goddess! To save the world by committing such a sin is to lose our souls in the process!"

"The Saintess has a point," Archmage Gideon mused. "But so does the Commander. We must also consider the nature of the 'service'. Is it to a life of torture? Or simply... attendance? The Ruler did not seem malicious, merely… detached. It is a terrible fate, but perhaps not the worst imaginable."

All eyes turned to Queen Lyra and King Theron.

Lyra took a long breath. "This is not a choice we make lightly," she said, her voice weary but clear. "If we do this, we will bear this sin for all time. But if we do not, there will be no one left to remember our virtue." She looked at her husband. "The question is no longer if we can do it, but how we can do it with the least amount of cruelty."

King Theron closed his eyes. The weight of the world felt heavy upon his crown. He saw Elysia's face in his mind—calm, majestic, and utterly indifferent. They had no choice. They never had a choice from the moment she stepped out of that gate.

"We will do it," Theron said, his voice heavy with a regret that was already taking root in his heart. "We will accept her terms."

He opened his eyes, and everyone in the tent could see that a part of the light within them had been extinguished. "Send the order to all kingdoms in the alliance. Find a female orphan. Elf, human, or fox-kin. Do it quietly and with respect. Explain that she has been chosen for a sacred duty to save the world." It was a lie, but a necessary one to soothe their shattered consciences. "And after we find the child... we will all pray for forgiveness for the rest of our days."

The order was sent. Across the continent, a secret and sorrowful search began.

Far away at the base of the World Tree, Elysia was completely unaware of the massive, soul-crushing operation she had just set in motion with a casual request. She closed her eyes again, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the babbling of the stream.

For now, she had reclaimed her peace. She had no idea that the price for that peace was only just beginning to be paid by the world.