Paths Beyond

Due to my growing responsibilities, I now find myself only one chapter ahead in this story. Additionally, I've embarked on an exciting new project: a novel written in the first person. But let me assure you—this journey with Paths Beyond is far from over. My commitment to writing every day remains steadfast, and now it will fuel both books.

Thank you for your continued support and patience. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.

__________________

"Elder, what is it?" Keen asked again, his voice sharp with urgency, the tension clear in his furrowed brow.

"Quiet," Elder hushed him with a frail wave of his trembling hand. "I need to confirm this. Follow me."

The ancient man trudged forward, his cane tapping lightly against the smooth stone floor with each careful step. His breath came in shallow huffs, yet his pace remained steady. Keen and Grey exchanged a glance before falling into step behind him, unease and curiosity brewing in their chests like a slow, smoldering fire.

For Elder to be drawn away from the treasure trove of Central Organs, whatever lay ahead had to be extraordinary—or terrifying.

The final room they entered was much like the others: smooth onyx walls seamlessly fused with ancient stone, every surface polished to an unsettling sheen. But at the chamber's center, something stood apart—a pristine, elevated platform made of an ethereal white material, smooth and flawless as bone but faintly radiant under the flickering lantern light.

Before the platform stood a podium crafted from the same pale substance. Its surface bore only a single, deliberate indentation carved into its top, as if it were meant to cradle something irreplaceable.

The heavy stone door clicked shut behind them with a sound that felt far too deliberate, far too final. Grey flinched, his silver eyes flicking back toward the now-sealed entrance. Keen instinctively rested a hand on the hilt of his blade, his body taut like a bowstring.

Elder, however, moved with quiet determination. His cane tapped against the stone floor as he approached the podium, the faint light of the lanterns reflecting off his pale, weathered skin.

Without a word, Elder reached up to his neck. His trembling fingers found the necklace—the crystal he had worn for as long as Keen or Grey could remember.

And then, slowly, he removed it.

The faint glow of the crystal dimmed as it left his skin, and the transformation was immediate. Elder's frail frame seemed to collapse inward, his shoulders curving forward under an unseen weight. His cane trembled beneath his grip, and his knees buckled slightly.

"Elder!" Keen surged forward, his voice cracking with alarm as he caught the old man by the shoulders. The wiry frame beneath his hands felt impossibly fragile, like holding a bird made of glass.

"I… I haven't taken this off in so many years," Elder rasped, his breath uneven, his head hanging low. "I didn't think… I didn't think I had so little time left."

"What do you mean?" Keen's voice was tight, his grip firm as if he could keep Elder from slipping away entirely.

"Nothing you can change, Keen." Elder's voice carried a quiet finality, his lips twitching faintly in something that might have been a smile—or a grimace. Slowly, with trembling hands, he placed the necklace into the indentation atop the podium.

The crystal clicked into place.

And then the world exploded with light.

Grey staggered back, throwing up his arms to shield his face as the room was flooded with a brilliance so intense it felt alive. Threads of golden-white light spidered across the walls, curling into intricate patterns before converging on the necklace, drawn toward its crystalline core like moths to a flame.

The light pulsed once—twice—and then settled. The chamber fell still, suffused with a faint glow that felt heavy, almost liquid in the air.

Then came the voice.

It reverberated through the stone, through their bones, ancient and calm, as if it had been speaking for eternity and they were only just hearing it.

"Welcome, Elder. With my knowledge, I shall guide you."

The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, and Grey felt his breath hitch in his chest. Keen's hand drifted toward his blade again, his eyes scanning the walls as if he could find the source.

But Elder… Elder stood tall, straightening slightly as if the voice brought with it a familiar comfort. His eyes were sharp, focused entirely on the podium. Without hesitation, he reached into his robes and withdrew the scroll—the same strange scroll they had recovered from the stranger's belongings.

Its shimmering surface caught the lantern light, rippling faintly like water as Elder tossed it onto the glowing platform.

"What is this?" Elder asked, his voice steady despite the faint tremor in his hands.

The necklace pulsed once, and the voice spoke again—measured, deliberate, and unyielding.

"A method of manipulating the world's energy. Its level is basic. The talent required is minor. To those of the Giant lineage, it will be difficult—but not impossible. The purer the bloodline, the weaker their ability to cultivate it will be."

Grey's brows furrowed, his mouth opening slightly before he spoke. "Giant lineage?"

The voice didn't hesitate, as if it had been waiting for the question.

"Giant Lineage—a cursed bloodline. Descendants of the Giant race, a branch of humanity capable of absorbing the world's energy into their very bodies. However, the purer the Giant blood, the more incapable they become of manipulating Will—the essence of intent and focus required to control energy externally."

Keen took a half-step back, his jaw tightening as his eyes flicked toward Elder. "Elder… what is this? Who is this voice?"

The voice resonated once more, its cadence even, its words heavy.

"I am the First Elder, leader of those who carry Giant blood."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Grey felt his mouth go dry, his silver eyes darting from Elder to the necklace, then back to the scroll. Keen's breathing had become slow and deliberate, his chest rising and falling with controlled precision.

Before either of them could ask another question, Elder reached out with trembling hands and removed the necklace from its cradle. The light in the chamber dimmed instantly, fading back into the faint flicker of lantern glow.

Elder slowly slipped the crystal back around his neck. His back straightened slightly, the trembling in his hands eased, and some semblance of strength returned to his frail frame.

But his eyes… his eyes looked hollow.

"You will speak of this to no one," Elder said, his voice cutting through the heavy silence like a knife. There was no room for argument in his tone. "Only the Elders before me have ever been allowed to enter this place. Now, let us leave."

But Keen didn't move.

"No, Elder." His voice was sharp, trembling with a mix of anger and fear. "No more secrets. No more traditions. We need answers. We've never faced dangers like these—not in my lifetime. Not with stakes like this. We deserve explanations."

Elder paused, his hand trembling slightly against his staff as his gaze fell away from Keen's sharp eyes. His voice, when it came, was low—almost fragile.

"You're wrong, Keen," he said softly, his tone heavy with centuries of weariness. "You are so young, and you know so little. Before you, before me, there have been countless moments when our small world stood on the brink of shattering."

He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with the weight of memories no one else carried. His fingers tightened around the smooth wood of his cane, his knuckles paling under the strain.

"But you are also right. Never, in all my long years, has the barrier been so thin, so fragile."

The silence that followed was suffocating, as if the air itself had frozen in place. Keen stood rooted where he was, his eyes fixed on Elder with a mixture of frustration and something else—something softer. Grey shifted uncomfortably, his silver eyes flickering between the two men, unsure whether to speak or remain silent.

Elder's voice cracked slightly as he continued. "I will tell you the tale of generations, Keen. Perhaps… perhaps the traditions must end now. After all, you'll be next to bear this burden anyway."

Grey cleared his throat softly, his voice hesitant. "Should I leave, then?"

"No," Keen said firmly, his voice cutting through the thick air like a knife. His gaze flicked back to Elder, sharp and unyielding. "We need to tell everyone who can help. If you're truly going to tell us everything—all the knowledge you've hoarded as Elder—all the secrets you've buried beneath layers of tradition… then we must be prepared. If this danger is as great as it seems, we all need to know."

Elder hesitated, his lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze flickering to Grey before returning to Keen. A sigh escaped him, slow and heavy, like air escaping a collapsing lung.

"I am much older than most people know," Elder said at last, his voice quiet but unyielding.

Grey's mind flashed back to the funeral, to the whispers of the other elders, their fear, their reverence. It all made sense now.

"I have lived through the death of your parents, Keen," Elder continued, his voice cracking under the weight of ancient sorrow. "And their parents… and their parents before them. I have buried generations. My own children, Keen. My own."

His voice faltered, the pain etched into every word, every crack in his frail tone. His eyes, clouded with age and grief, shimmered faintly with unshed tears.

Keen's breath caught in his throat. His lips parted slightly, but no words came. Grey shifted on his feet, his gaze dropping to the cold stone floor as if unable to bear the weight of Elder's confession.

"This necklace," Elder began again, his voice hoarse, "has been passed down to those whose names have changed to Elder. It allows us to endure—to live far beyond our years. To guide, to protect, and to carry the knowledge passed down through the ages. But…" Elder's gaze lifted to the faint glow of the necklace resting against his frail chest, "the more I use it, the less effective it becomes. In time, the First Elder's guidance will fade, and this necklace will be nothing more than a trinket."

Grey's voice was tight with uncertainty as he spoke. "The retired… they called you Ancestor. How—exactly how old are you?"

Elder let out a dry, hollow chuckle, the sound brittle and empty in the still air. "I have lived over one hundred and fifty full cycles of the seasons, Grey. Though I stopped counting long ago. Who knows now? Perhaps much more."

He shifted slightly, his frail shoulders sagging under the weight of centuries. "Long ago, our people lived outside this small village. We basked in the sun, endured the winters, and danced in the lush blooms of spring. But…" Elder paused, his gaze distant, clouded by regret. "We did something. Something the world has punished us for. Even the First Elder, with all his knowledge," he gestured weakly toward the now-dormant pedestal, "will not speak of it."

Elder's voice carried the weight of centuries, his words hanging heavy in the dim glow of the lanterns.

"However, Keen, you have felt the result of our punishment firsthand. We—the distant descendants of the Giant lineage—though diluted by countless generations, still bear the curse in our blood. We cannot wield great magical feats like the strangers you fought. Instead, our strength, our speed—it was once unparalleled, the stuff of legends. But…" Elder's gaze fell to the floor, his frail hands trembling slightly around his staff, "we have been shackled. Bound by something we cannot see nor break. We cannot progress. We are stuck."

He took a deep breath, the sound brittle and raw. "Even if one of us reaches the very peak of what we are capable of, there is no doorway leading beyond it. No higher plane to step into. But then… you happened, Keen. Against every expectation, every law the world seems to have set against us—you broke through. What you've done… it has been the dream of countless Elders, whispered across generations like fragile glass secrets."

Elder's hollow eyes locked onto Keen's. "You were not supposed to happen. Others like you have existed before—talented, driven souls—but they always fell, always perished at the final moment. The world itself seemed to refuse our kind the right to seize the reins."

The weight of Elder's words pressed into Keen's chest, his breath catching as guilt and uncertainty flickered across his sharp features. Slowly, his gaze turned to Grey.

"It wasn't me, though," Keen said quietly, his voice breaking the fragile silence. "Not entirely. I was going to fail. But Grey—he was there with me, in the illusions. Somehow, he pulled me through."

Grey's hand drifted to the back of his neck as he shuffled his feet, his silver eyes flickering with uncertainty. "I… I don't know why either. Maybe it was because I was next to you. Maybe it was because of my power—or both. But Elder, I have a question."

He hesitated, his brow furrowing as a vivid memory surfaced—the images of the glowing orbs in his mind, Keen's larger and more radiant than the others, except for Tear's. Yet Keen's wasn't the darkest in color until the Heart of Radiance had empowered him.

"What do you mean by talent?" Grey asked softly. "How do you know Keen is more talented than anyone else?"

Elder's expression grew thoughtful, his gaze distant as though he was reaching back into memories buried deep beneath centuries of dust.

"It's… complicated," Elder began, his voice heavy with reflection. "When a child is born in our village, they undergo the Naming Ceremony during their fifth cycle of birth as you know, that is how I gave your name, Grey. Using the Slater—an ancient inscription tool—I measure the essence of each child. It captures their potential, their raw capacity to grow before the curse clamps down on them like iron shackles. Then I ask the First Elder to read it to me, as I cannot sense the energy hidden in the inscriptions"

Elder's shoulders slumped slightly, his voice quieter now. "For so long, I have dreamed of changing our fate. I have poured the necklace's power, the First Elder's guidance, into searching for a way. But I had nearly given up. Keen… he's the only one who has ever reached this limit. The only one who has touched the ceiling of our cursed potential and… survived."

Grey's brows drew together as he considered Elder's words. The strange force—the pull he'd felt in his mind—stirred again, like faint whispers on the edge of his consciousness.

"What if…" Grey began cautiously, his voice trembling slightly with the weight of his words, "what if I had a way to expand that talent?"

Keen and Elder froze, their eyes snapping to Grey in unison.

Grey hesitated, searching for the right words to explain something he himself barely understood. "When I focus—when I really focus—I can… enter this space. In my mind. It feels like I'm connected to everyone. All of you. The villagers. It's like… I can sense your power. Your talent. And not just that—I think I can change it."

The silence that followed was absolute. Keen's lips parted slightly, his sharp gaze fixed on Grey as if he had suddenly transformed into something entirely alien. Elder's cane shook slightly in his grip, his knuckles bone-white.

"You mean…" Elder's voice cracked as he spoke. "You mean you could let everyone reach Keen's level? That—if given the chance—you could break the shackles holding us back? You could let others advance beyond the ceiling?"

Grey raised a hand slightly, cutting Elder off before the man's voice could climb any higher. "But it's not that simple. It requires… a massive amount of energy. The Heart of Radiance—it's what let me enhance Serene, even if by accident. And even then, it was draining. I think… maybe, with the resources we have now, I could help those who are close. Not everyone. But a handful. And with luck—maybe, just maybe—I could help them advance like Keen did."

Elder choked back a sob, his frail shoulders trembling as tears welled in his ancient eyes and spilled down his weathered cheeks.

"My goodness," he whispered, his voice trembling with raw emotion. "We… we might finally be able to leave."

The weight of those words hung in the air like a sacred promise. Keen's breath hitched as his hand fell away from the hilt of his blade, his sharp eyes flickering between Grey and Elder.

A long silence passed before Elder composed himself, wiping his cheeks with the sleeve of his robe. When he spoke again, his voice was steadier—resolute.

"There's a world out there," Elder said softly, his voice heavy with longing and regret. "Something vast—something we cannot even begin to imagine. I've never seen beyond the close outer woods, but…" His gaze drifted to the scroll on the platform, its faint light flickering like a dying star. "But that scroll—it represents change. A chance to disguise our origins. A chance for survival."

Elder looked back at Grey, then at Keen. "If even one person could master it—just one—then even if the rest of us perish, our bloodline would endure. But now… now there is hope. If you can help even three, no, even two others reach Keen's level… then we could leave this place. Together. Protecting one another. Carving a path back into the world."

Keen's voice, steady and sharp, cut through the silence. "How exactly is it supposed to do that? Don't tell me it's going to let us summon ice from thin air or freeze enemies with magic like the strangers."

Grey's silver eyes flickered with recognition as he remembered the glowing hands, the conjured shards of ice, and the crushing power he had faced.

"Not exactly," Elder said carefully. "It could, eventually, but that's not what this is. This scroll—the Doctrine of Will—is something entirely different. It's something the First Elder himself could never access. His people, for all their wisdom and strength, lacked the ability to cultivate it. But maybe, after so many long years… we can."

He stepped closer to the scroll, his frail hands hovering just above its shimmering surface. "This isn't a spell. It isn't a weapon. It's a blueprint. A philosophy. A map to understanding the why behind magic—the rules that govern the world's energy."

He looked up, his gaze sharp and unwavering. "It teaches how the earth breathes, how the wind carries whispers, how a seed becomes a tree. Even those who wield magic do so blindly. This scroll holds the key to seeing—truly seeing—how it all connects. I don't know who you killed to get this, but they are not someone that will be forgotten."

The silence that followed was heavy with possibility, fear, and fragile hope. The scroll shimmered faintly on the platform, its secrets locked away—its promise, and its warning, looming over them like a shadow.

__________________

As always, thank you so much for reading! Your support means the world to me. If you enjoyed this chapter, please don't forget to comment, follow, and vote/like—it helps more than you know and keeps me motivated to continue this journey.

Until next time, happy reading!