Collide: The Memory of Stars

Narrator

Long ago, before the world was fractured and before the darkness seeped into the veins of Eldoria, there were two who stood at the heart of fate—one born of light, the other consumed by the abyss.

Vherezoth was once a girl with a name lost to time, her existence swallowed by the very thing she became.

Once, she was a child of promise, a being so gifted that the gods themselves seemed to lay their blessings upon her. But blessings are often curses in disguise.

Her power, radiant and untamed, drew admiration first—then fear. Those who once called her friend grew wary; the rulers who once sought her guidance plotted against her. She was too strong, too unknowable.

And in their greed, they sought to control her. They bound her in chains forged from magic and stripped her of her humanity, turning her gifts into a curse.

Her screams filled the heavens as the void took her, and where once there was a girl, now there was only hunger.

She became Vherezoth, the Devourer. A name whispered in terror, a presence that made the stars weep.

The sky itself darkened as she rose from the ruins of her torment, and with every breath, she consumed more. Cities crumbled in her wake, entire nations reduced to nothingness.

It was not war—it was annihilation. The world trembled as the void expanded, swallowing light, swallowing hope.

And then, in its final hour, Eldoria rose to meet her.

At its helm stood Eltharia Solmira, the golden queen. She was the last bastion of a dying age, the one who carried the will of a kingdom upon her shoulders.

Her sword, Solvain, burned with the last light of the gods, forged not just of steel but of hope itself.

She was the only one who could stand against the abyss, the only one who could wield a power great enough to rival the darkness.

The Battle of Light and Void

The battle raged for days, then weeks, then months. Vherezoth, clad in shadows darker than the endless night, laughed as she struck, her voice filled with mockery and scorn.

"You are but a candle in a storm, little queen," she taunted, her form shifting like living smoke.

"What is light, if not the thing that fears the dark? What is hope, if not the lie the weak tell themselves?" Eltharia did not falter. She met every strike with her own, the golden glow of her blade cleaving through the void like a dying star.

For every city Vherezoth consumed, Eltharia saved another. For every soul lost to the abyss, another found sanctuary behind her shield. But the queen knew—this was not a battle that could be won.

Her people fought alongside her, warriors and mages, kings and peasants alike. They all bled for Eldoria, and one by one, they fell. The streets ran red with sacrifice, the heavens choked with ash.

The gods had long since turned their gaze away, leaving only mortals to stand against the end.

Vherezoth reveled in their despair. "See how they fall, golden queen! See how the world crumbles beneath your foolish defiance! What will you do when you are the last one left? Will you fight then? Will you scream as they did?"

Eltharia did not answer. She only fought harder, pushing back the endless dark with the last of her strength. But she knew the truth—she was not enough. Not alone. The abyss could not be slain. It could only be sealed.

And so, she made her choice.

The Final Sacrifice

With the last remnants of her strength, Eltharia turned to her people, to those who still stood.

"Leave this place," she commanded, her voice steady despite the exhaustion in her bones.

"Take what remains of Eldoria and live. The future is not ours to see, but we can still give it a chance." They begged to stay. They swore to fight until the end. But Eltharia knew there would be no world left if they remained.

So, she raised her sword one final time and faced Vherezoth alone.

The void-born mockery faltered for the first time.

"You cannot win, Eltharia. Even you must see that. You are alone. You are broken. What can one queen do against the endless dark?"

Eltharia smiled, weary but unyielding.

"I am not alone. Eldoria lives beyond this battlefield. And that is enough." With a whispered incantation, she drove her sword into the very heart of the abyss. Light erupted from the wound, golden and pure, searing through the shadows like the dawn breaking over the night.

Vherezoth screamed—a sound not of rage, but of something deeper. A fear she had not known in centuries.

"No! You cannot—!"

The void shrieked and recoiled as the seal took hold. Eltharia's body shone like a falling star, her very essence binding the darkness, forcing it deep beneath Eldoria's land. The queen's golden hair became light itself, scattering across the sky, her soul entwined with the prison she had created.

And then, silence.

The battle was over. Eldoria stood, but it stood without its queen.

The Legacy of the Queen

When the dust settled and the wounded were gathered, there was only one who could take up Eltharia's crown—her younger sister, the one with hair as dark as midnight and eyes pale as the moon.

She was different from her sister, not a warrior, not a ruler born of fire and steel. But she bore the weight of her bloodline, and she carried the last remnants of Eltharia's hope.

With trembling hands, she took her sister's fallen crown, knowing she could never replace the one who came before. But she would not let the sacrifice be in vain.

"We will remember," she whispered as she looked upon the land her sister had saved.

"We will not forget."

But time is cruel. The world moved on. The name Eltharia became legend, then myth, then lost entirely.

The seal upon the void held, silent beneath the ruins of Eldoria, forgotten by all but those who still carried the whispers of history in their veins.

Yet, even the strongest of seals cannot last forever.

And deep below, where the light cannot reach, something stirs.

Something remembers.

And it waits.

To be continued.