The dream world was collapsing, but Brendel knew there was one last stretch to go. He put his things away, turned off the Experience prompt, and looked up to see a long corridor appear ahead.
It was like a deep walkway stretching forward in a circular space, surrounded by flickering fragments of the past in the mist.
He knew that this was no longer the dream of Viscount Cauldell, but truly his own.
Self-salvation was often an opportunity hidden in the deepest parts of the human heart.
Brendel moved forward slowly, through the darkness, and then the light came from all directions and draped over him. Finally, he saw a door, which was immersed in darkness and silence, the pattern on the door was a bronze lock and key, as well as a silver crescent moon, this memory was as new as if it were just from yesterday. Brendel did not stop, but walked forward and pushed the door open.
The heavy wooden door creaked open.
Behind the door was the center of the palace.
The Kinten Palace, the Hall of the Seers.
A dim light hung down from the dome, the hall was silent, with the fetid red throne in the center of the palace, and on it rested a silver crown. The crown had a slender, elfin style, and it was painted with the mountains of the southern realm and the clouds of the north, and many in Brendel’s memory had worn it, for it had been the symbol of Aouine.
An unknown craftsman made the crown, and the late King Erik was crowned with it at Grey, and in the long years that followed, dozens of kings bore it, but they had faded into dust.
As history progressed, it had welcomed its last owner, a beautiful half-Elf maiden.
Brendel saw the pale silver light reflected in that crown, almost the same color as Princess Gryphine’s silver hair, but the moment seemed so dull after the luster had dissipated.
Does it know where its former owner is now?
Has it ever gaze upon the beautiful Princess who will be resting forever in this palace?
It might not have cared for the blood that stained it, for it was a dead object that was only a deposit of mortal greed.
Brendel walked to the center of the hall, but the palace was empty. He knew that many kings had sat here at one time or another, even the eldest princess, who had walked gracefully down the red carpet to the main hall, where the knights bowed down to her.
In another time period, he stood here with his senior, in the same wretched hall, the dim light, the sound of wind and fire mingling outside, the noises of battling coming closer and closer.
It was the last cry of the dying Aouine, as if it were a symbol of the groaning before the palace collapsed.
But now, he was all that was left.
Everything was as it had been.
Brendel saw flames burn in from outside the palace, turning the palace into a blazing inferno in the blink of an eye. The porticoes collapsed, the gaudy artworks turned to dust, and he stood a
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