It was the radiance and sound that had been separated from him for three thousand years.
And the history that he had not heard for 3,000 years.
Azmor walked forward step by step. Just like many years ago, when he had just obtained the qualification to enter the temple as an apprentice of Druil, he followed behind his mentor and stepped on the majestic steps and stone ramp with a reverent heart. Behind him, several priests followed his footsteps and lined up on both sides according to their different positions.
This was the most majestic of ceremonies, and every step could not be taken carelessly. Even though the youngest of them was already three thousand seven hundred years old, these old elves still took every step as steady as a mountain, without any mistakes.
Amoun lay quietly in the middle of the courtyard, looking at the elves walking toward him with a gentle gaze. Each of their faces was very different from the ones in his memory. After 3,000 years, even the long-lived elves had reached the end of their lives. These middle-aged elves had lived to this day only because of the "blessing" they had received from the baptism and their strong will to live. The wrinkled faces were deeply imprinted in Amoun's eyes, and gradually merged with some of the shadows in his memory. Finally, they merged into a sigh.
"Azmor, you are very old," he said softly.
"Lord …" Azmor walked forward step by step. When the voice of God came directly into his ears, he finally said with a trembling voice, "We have been looking for you for 3,000 years …"
"You shouldn't have looked for me," Amoun sighed softly. "I have my reasons for leaving. You could have had a better life."
"We know, but we are willing to go with you!" a senior priest suddenly said. "No matter what the reason is, we are willing to …"
Amoun quietly looked at these priests who had followed him loyally, and even until today, 3,000 years later, they were still loyal to him. After a long time, he sighed. "It is because there were too many who were willing to go with me back then …"
…
Gwen and Bersetia stood quietly in the distance, standing beside the path leading to the center of the courtyard. Looking at the priests who were like pilgrims in religious stories walking toward the holy deer shrouded in light, Bersetia finally said softly, "It has been 3,000 years … The Morgenstern family has thought countless times about how to solve this ancient problem, but no one has ever thought that it would end in this way."
"If it ends in this way … you will have a lot of trouble." Gwen glanced at the Silver Queen. "These people can't go back. No matter how you explain it to the outside world, these people have 'left this world' after you took them away. You have spent many years trying to solve the problem of the secret cult gently, and now the problem can't be solved gently."
"I remember we have discussed this before." Bersetia just smiled. She looked at the priests who were standing at Amoun's feet. Her smile was gentle and sweet, but the light in her eyes was as cold as frost. "Many people have got one thing wrong. I have always been gentle to these old people who have made great contributions to the Silver Empire, and have never really betrayed the Silver Empire. As for the secret cult you mentioned … they are nothing."
"It seems that you have already made a plan." Gawain looked away from Bersetia and silently looked ahead. "I was worried too much."
"The Silver Empire is huge, and its ancient history has brought with it an ancient and complex social structure. I have ruled the land for centuries, and there will always be people who are unwilling to follow me. Now I have finally found an opportunity to let some of them follow their god. After all, this is what they have always dreamed of."
The Silver Queen suddenly fell silent as if she was thinking about something. It was not until half a minute later that she suddenly whispered, "There should be many technicians monitoring the changes here in another place. When Sage Azmol and the priests stepped into the Courtyard of Disobedience, they and Amoun …"
"They have established a connection," Gwen said in a low voice. "It is very obvious and very stable. It seems that even after three thousand years of 'exhaustion' and 'interruption,' these people's devotion to Amoun has not diminished at all. Instead, it has become stronger and deeper with the passage of time."
"Is that so? Well, if it were not for their unwavering will, even with the elves' lifespan and God-given vitality, they would not have lasted until today." Bersetia's eyelids drooped slightly. "Sage Azmol is almost five thousand years old."
Then she paused and whispered as if talking to herself, "It seems that they really can't go back."
…
On the broken and floating boulders, Azmol and the priests sat on the ground, just like how the Druil sages sat in the forest 30 centuries ago to discuss the classics and doctrines. The power of the god soaked their souls that had been dried up for three thousand years, and a sense of fullness and peace filled everyone's mind. They discussed the stories of the ancient times, the lush forests, the mountains and valleys, the four seasons and the birds and beasts, the rivers that flowed across the plains, and the eagles that flew across the sky. Amoun just looked at them gently most of the time, and in his crystal eyes was a pure and otherworldly brilliance.
All this went on for a long time, until the sages seemed to have forgotten the passage of time. During this time, a high-ranking priest suddenly seemed to recall something and let out a sigh. "Sigh, if only His Majesty Ista was still here …"
"Costina has betrayed the sacred faith," another high-ranking priest could not help but say. "She … she should not have …"
"Costina may have betrayed her faith, but she has never betrayed us," Azmol said in a low voice, and his voice immediately silenced the priests. "Countless people can criticize her decision when she reorganized the church, but only those of us who have lived to this day … none of us have the right to speak."
The old elf's eyelids drooped, and no one could see the look in his eyes when he said these words. At this moment, Amoun's voice suddenly rang out, low and gentle. "Costina Ista Morningstar … my last priestess, I still remember her. She … has been dead for many years, hasn't she? "
"Yes, Lord," Azmol immediately replied. "His Majesty Ista had passed away more than two thousand years ago … After you left, she reorganized the Church of Druil and took over the entire elven society with imperial power. The backlash caused by the betrayal of God's grace and the enormous pressure she was under caused her to pass away early, and she became the last Silver Empress with a Christian name. After that, the rulers of the Silver Empire no longer had a Christian name."
Ah Mo 'en fell silent. After a long silence, the priests heard the gentle and dignified voice again. "She's under a lot of pressure, is that so … Sigh, what a silly girl. She's actually doing very well … She's really doing very well … I was too selfish when I left that year."
Azmol's eyes widened, and he subconsciously tried to stand up. "Lord, you can't …"
Before he could finish his words, and before he could stand up, the old elf lowered his head in shock. At the opening of the priest's robe and the exposed parts, he saw that his muscles and skin had dried up little by little, and a grayish-white color like weathered rock was spreading on his body at a speed visible to the naked eye.
It was as if the body, which had been frozen in time, suddenly woke up and remembered that he should have died many years ago.
The old priest suddenly understood what had happened. He sighed, and then smiled faintly. He looked up and around, and was greeted by a few faces with the same smile.
"My Lord, it seems that the time is near," Azmol said with a smile.
"I can let you stay." Amoun quietly looked at the elves, who should have died a thousand to two thousand years ago. "Abandon this body, abandon everything in the past, and no longer have any connection with the mortal world. Stay here forever — until the end of time."
Azmol was silent for a long time before he asked softly, "If we stay here, will God come back?"
"… God will not come back. God is dead."
Azmol smiled softly, and then slowly shook his head. Then he pushed himself up and slowly lifted his rapidly aging body off the ground. After exhausting all his strength, he finally succeeded this time. He looked back and saw that Bersetia and Gwen had come nearby. They stood there as if waiting for a certain time to come.
The old priest gently waved his hand, and the young queen came over. The surrounding ancient priests also stood up one by one. They supported each other and looked at the ruler of the Silver Empire.
"Your Majesty Bersetia, I call you Your Majesty," Azmol said slowly, his voice rough like dry leaves rubbing against each other. "I know that for many years, you, your father, and your grandmother have been waiting for us to die every day. Now, it seems that the day has finally come."
Bersetia opened her mouth and said, "I —"
"Please leave it to us. Our time is limited." Azmol raised his hand to interrupt Bersetia. Then he slowly raised his hand and pressed his index finger against his forehead. Accompanied by a slight flow of green light and a slight sound of skin rubbing, a dark green pearl gradually protruded from the forehead of this old priest and fell off!
The Silver Queen looked at the scene in astonishment and said, "This is …"
"If I hide it on my body, you may find it. With your intelligence, you will definitely recognize it and then guess why I prepared this token." Azmol grinned. His teeth were loosening, and his voice was more muffled than before. "But now, I can give it to you. This is the pearl that was missing from your grandmother's scepter. It is the last piece of your imperial power.
"Take it. Find my apprentice. He is waiting for you at the foot of the mountain. Let him see this pearl, and then tell him in the ancient elven language that the stars have risen, and the leaves have returned to their roots.
"That way, the elves who sincerely follow us and follow our ancient traditions will naturally disperse. From then on, they will recognize you as their rightful and only ruler. As for those who have not dispersed … Your Majesty, please allow them to accompany us."
Azmol held out his hand. Two seconds later, Bersetia reached out and took it. She hesitated for a moment and could not help but ask, "If I don't bring back this pearl and that sentence, what will happen?"
Azmol looked at her for a few seconds before he chuckled and shook his head. "Nothing will happen. Who can really resist the powerful Silver Queen?"
After saying this, the ancient priest who had lived for thousands of years turned his head, as if leaving the entire mortal world behind him. He walked towards the huge and holy giant deer not far away. Behind him, the ancient priests supported each other, but they also followed him with the same determination.
"You still have a chance to change your mind now." Amoun's eyes fell on the priests, and his voice gradually became serious. "If you go any further, I can't change everything."
Azmol raised his head and looked up at the pair of crystal-like eyes. Under the clear and warm gaze of the god, he asked softly, "Lord, after death, is there an eternal heaven?"
"… No," Amoun whispered. "Nothing is eternal. Even the gods will fall. Death is a peaceful void. In front of you, there is only me."
"Thank you." Azmol smiled. His completely shriveled body was bathed in the light of the God of Nature. He took a step forward and slowly opened his hands. "You are with us, and we are with you."
Amidst the gentle white light, the priests from ancient times and the simple and unadorned crown were sublimated into light, melting into the radiance around Ah Mo En.
Everything returned to nothingness.
Gwen looked at this scene in surprise. This was obviously not what he had expected at the beginning. He stepped up to Bersetia and looked up with the ruler of the empire, watching the remaining light fade and dissipate. Half a minute later, the floating light in the air finally returned to normal. The barrier set up by the Goddess of Magic, Mirmina, also faded.
The terrible scars on Amoun's body once again appeared in front of Gwen. The wreckage of the spaceship that had penetrated his body and nailed him to the ground also emerged little by little from nothingness. After a while, the place returned to its original appearance as if nothing had happened.
The courtyard of disobedience was quiet. Neither the mortals nor the gods spoke. After a long time, Amoun whispered, "Gone, all gone …"
Bersetia lowered her eyelids slightly. "They have already come to the end. They are just stubborn."
"Very well …"
Amoun sighed softly. At this moment, the light on his body suddenly stagnated. The ancient and holy breath seemed to have changed in an instant. Gwen sensed something. He looked up instinctively and saw the mountain-like giant deer swaying gently in the darkness. The body that had not moved for three thousand years slowly rose and fell with its breathing. He heard a low sound coming from Amoun's body. It was as if flesh and blood were filling up an empty shell, and water was pouring into a dry river.
The sacred giant deer took a deep breath, then lowered its head and supported its body with its forelimbs. The mountain-like body began to move little by little and stood up little by little …
(End of Chapter)
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