YM778.TV Chapter 1186 Building A Sanctuary
Chapter 1186 Building A Sanctuary
They landed on the desolate rock. Before them, a simple patch of rock held the key to a tale that would alter their perception of everything they\'d seen thus far. Mister White placed his hand upon the rough stone, and as always, the familiar warmth flowed, dissolving the barren landscape and revealing a grand palace rife with tension.
At the center of it was the young prince of Yalen, his once-bright eyes shadowed by an unyielding determination. Arthur watched with a pang of recognition, seeing echoes of his own struggles mirrored in the prince\'s resolute stance.
"My king, and father," the prince addressed the imposing figure upon the throne. His voice held a tautness that echoed the strained atmosphere. "I cannot… I will not forsake her. This marriage you demand is an affront to the heart."
The king, a figure of imposing power and cold authority, rose from his throne. "You are a prince!" His voice boomed, silencing the murmurs that rippled through the hall. "Personal desires are a luxury you cannot afford. It is your duty to strengthen the kingdom."
"You speak of strength, but deny that which makes a kingdom truly thrive," the prince retorted, a flicker of desperation lacing his defiance. "My connection to her, our shared vision of the future… it could guide us to an era of unparalleled prosperity."
Arthur observed, an instinct he couldn\'t explain compelling him to reach towards the withered Forget-Me-Not nestled within its ornate box. This prince\'s defiant heart, his daring to dream of a future sculpted by love, resonated deeply within him.
There was a sudden shift, a sense of being drawn into the scene. And then, he was no longer on the desolate island, but within a cramped and spartan cell. Cold stone surrounded him, the only light a faint glow filtering through a barred window. The prince, looking haggard and drained, sat slumped against the wall.
"Who are you?" The prince stared at Arthur, first with surprise, then with a flicker of desperate hope. "How did you get in here?"
"I come from the future," Arthur said, cutting off the inevitable questions. "And you are in grave danger."
The prince, ever astute, narrowed his eyes in wary acceptance "Now that my powers have been taken away from me, what fate awaits me, visitor of the future? Did I succeed in building our sanctuary?"
"The Tower of Yearning stands," Arthur confirmed, a sense of solemn triumph rising within him, "and within it, echoes a love that has defied centuries." His gaze flickered to the Forget-Me-Not in his hands. "This, perhaps, is what she left behind, a testament."
The prince reached out a trembling hand, gently tracing the withered petals. "It pulses with her energy," he breathed, a wave of bittersweet longing washing over him.
"Your father… he will not stop until he breaks you," Arthur spoke bluntly, a sense of urgency pushing him. "You need to escape, find a way..."
But the prince shook his head, a tragic smile playing upon his lips. "It is too late for that," he confessed. "He has taken my power. Drained it to fuel his own. I am a prisoner in every sense of the word."
A cold fury ignited within Arthur. To see this vibrant spirit so cruelly caged mirrored his own struggles and fueled his determination to help.
"Can the flower help?" he asked, his voice low and intense. "Is there anything in its power that can break these bonds?"
The prince stared at the Forget-Me-Not with newfound intensity. A flicker of daring possibility ignited in his eyes. "If it truly holds a trace of her… perhaps…"
He hesitated, then turned to Arthur, his features etched with desperate resolve. "There is a way. But it is dangerous, fueled by sacrifice. And I don\'t know if this frail bloom has the strength…."
"Tell me," Arthur insisted, meeting the prince\'s gaze with unwavering determination. "Tell me the way, and let us decide if it is a risk worth taking."
The plan the prince whispered was audacious and fraught with risk. It involved tapping into the withered Forget-me-Not\'s latent power, a delicate link to the woman he loved. But the flower alone was not enough. It required a conduit, a catalyst to amplify the fragile energy. n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om
"My blood," the prince said, his voice low and strained. "It still carries traces of my seer abilities, twisted and weakened by my father\'s theft. With her essence and the last remnants of my power, there might be enough to break the enchantments holding me."
Arthur studied the prince, seeing in his worn features a reflection of his own desperate resolve. "It will be painful," he warned, thinking of the toll such a sacrifice would exact.
"And potentially fatal," the prince admitted, a wry smile touching his lips. "But to remain trapped, to have my dreams and hers turned to dust by a fearful old man… that is a death I cannot accept."
"Then we proceed," Arthur said, his voice ringing with unshakeable determination.
Arthur pricked the prince\'s finger, letting crimson drops fall onto the withered petals. The flower pulsed, absorbing the blood, its fragile blue petals shimmering with a strange energy.
The cell began to shake. Dust cascaded from cracks forming in the stone walls. The unnatural glow filtering through the barred window flickered erratically. Arthur tensed, prepared for any eventuality, the forgotten runes he carried ready to be unleashed if needed.
"Focus," he urged, seeing the prince falter for a perilous moment.
The prince gritted his teeth, a sheen of sweat coating his strained features. With a final, guttural cry, a surge of unseen force exploded from him. The bars of his cell warped and twisted, the ancient enchantments shattering under the combined might of a fading power and an undying love channeled through a withered flower.
The cell door buckled open. The prince slumped to his knees, gasping, his once-vibrant eyes clouded with exhaustion. Arthur rushed to his side, a sense of both triumph and profound relief coursing through him.
"We did it," he said, unable to keep the elation from his voice.
The prince raised a trembling hand, tracing the twisted bars, a fragile smile playing on his lips. "There is a way out now," he rasped, and though his voice was weak, hope thrummed through it. "But we must act quickly."
"You\'ve drained yourself too far," Arthur insisted, concern lacing his words.
"There is no time," the prince said with unexpected firmness. "My father will sense the disruption soon. We must hurry."
With Arthur\'s assistance, the prince rose, his steps unsteady but resolute. They ventured from the cell, moving with stealth through the shadowed corridors of the palace. The prince created illusions to shield their passage, leading them deeper within the palace.
They encountered only a few guards, easily bypassed thanks to the prince\'s intimate knowledge of the palace\'s secret routes. Their unease grew with each step. Every corner, every darkened room, held the potential for discovery and swift retribution.
Finally, they reached a hidden chamber deep within the palace. The room hummed with a strange, otherworldly energy. Ancient runes were carved into the floor, forming intricate patterns that pulsed with a cold light.
"The foundations of the Sanctuary," the prince explained, his voice barely a whisper due to fatigue. "It is incomplete, a desperate attempt to create a safe haven for her. But with the flower\'s power, and the last of mine, I can finish it."
He moved towards the center of the room, the withered Forget-me-Not clutched tightly in his hand. Arthur watched; the same determination that burned within him reflected in the prince\'s unwavering gaze.
The prince began to chant, channeling the flower\'s energy, weaving it with his waning strength and the lingering echo of the sanctuary\'s creation ritual. The runes on the floor blazed, the air crackled, and the room began to shimmer, reality warping around them.
Suddenly, a booming voice shattered the tense silence. "You dare defy me, son?" The king stood at the chamber entrance, his face a mask of fury. Guards flooded the room, their weapons leveled at the weakened prince.
"Father, please…" The prince\'s plea was cut off by a dismissive wave of the king\'s hand.
"Enough sentimentality!" The king sneered. "Your power will be mine, fueling my own vision for this kingdom. Seize him!"
Time seemed to slow. Arthur saw guards charge forward, saw the prince raise the Forget-me-Not as a final act of defiance. Yet, his limbs felt heavy, his mind scrambling for a solution, any way to buy them more time.
In that endless moment, a desperate realization surged through him. The only way to salvage the prince\'s sacrifice was to complete the sanctuary himself. But could he help the prince achieve what he wants?
It was a gamble, a leap of faith more reckless than anything he\'d done before. Yet, looking at the prince\'s face, seeing his own reflection in those defiant eyes, Arthur knew he could not falter.
He lunged forward, not towards the guards, but towards the blazing runes. With blurring speed, fueled by a mix of hope and desperation, Arthur began altering the patterns, weaving in his own chaotic understanding of runes, channeling a force he rarely unleashed.
The world lurched. The guards, distracted by his sudden movement, paused, confusion warring with their orders. The king\'s bellow of outrage was lost amidst a surge of energy that threatened to rip the room apart.
The prince, sensing the shift, stared at Arthur in stunned disbelief. Then, he redoubled his efforts, pouring everything he had left into the unfinished sanctuary. Arthur responded in kind, pushing himself beyond his limits, runes flickering into existence then collapsing under the strain.
Then… it connected. The runes flared with blinding brilliance, reality itself bending and warping. With a final, thunderous burst of energy, the room, the palace, the entire world dissolved around them, swallowed by the sanctuary\'s creation.