Villain's Last Chance
Chapter 45: The Ruins of the Forgotten

Chapter 45: The Ruins of the Forgotten

Got it! This Chapter will be even longer, diving deeper into the ruins, unraveling the past, and intensifying Elara’s internal conflict with the villa

The whispers didn’t stop.

They coiled around me, a chorus of voices speaking in a language long buried by time. I clenched my fists, forcing my breathing to steady, but the sound pressed against my skull like invisible hands trying to pry open my mind.

I could still see it.

The memory.

The temple standing tall, unbroken by time. The power that radiated from the man who had once been me.

But that wasn’t who I was.

It wasn’t.

"Elara."

Cairon’s voice cut through the fog, sharp and steady. His grip on my shoulder tightened. "What did you see?"

I swallowed hard, the air thick in my lungs. "It was—" I hesitated. "It was him."

Cairon didn’t need to ask who I meant. His expression darkened, his fingers twitching slightly at his side as if resisting the urge to reach for his sword.

"What did he do?" he asked.

I looked past him, back at the massive stone doorway that now stood open, the glow of ancient markings fading back into silence.

"He held the Codex," I murmured. "He said... it chose him."

A muscle in Cairon’s jaw tightened. "Then that confirms it."

I frowned. "Confirms what?"

"That this place isn’t just a ruin." He gestured to the towering pillars, to the faint traces of power still lingering in the air like embers after a fire. "This was his stronghold."

I exhaled sharply. "So we just walked right into his home?"

"Not his home," Cairon corrected, his voice edged with something unreadable. "His throne."

The realization sent a cold chill through me.

I turned back toward the entrance of the ruins, my fingers instinctively brushing over the surface of the Codex strapped to my hip.

Was that why it had reacted so strongly?

Was it because this place recognized him?

Because it thought I was still him?

I pushed the thought away and stepped forward.

The doorway yawned open before us, leading into a vast hall swallowed by darkness. The air was thick with dust, yet untouched by time. Shadows stretched across the walls, dancing in the flickering glow of torches that should have long since burned out.

We moved carefully, our footsteps barely making a sound against the stone. The architecture was unlike anything I had ever seen before—massive pillars inscribed with symbols older than any kingdom, arches carved with scenes of battles and rituals lost to history.

And at the very center of the chamber—

A pedestal.

It stood alone, bathed in a sliver of pale light from a crack in the ceiling. Upon it rested something covered in layers of thick, black cloth, as if someone had tried to hide it from the world.

I hesitated.

Cairon noticed. "What is it?"

I wasn’t sure.

But something inside me knew.

I stepped forward, each movement careful, slow. The Codex at my side pulsed again, the same way it had before the vision.

My fingers brushed the cloth—

And the world shifted.

A voice filled my mind. Deep, commanding.

"You cannot stop what is inevitable."

The temple was whole again, and I was no longer standing in the ruins. Instead, I stood at the edge of a great hall, the same hall—but alive, filled with power, with war.

Figures clashed in battle. The air crackled with magic, with the sharp scent of blood and steel. And at the center of it all—

Him.

Or rather—me.

He stood tall, his dark robes untouched by the chaos around him. The Codex floated before him, its pages glowing as ancient symbols burned into the air.

He did not flinch as warriors charged him.

He did not waver as spells were hurled in his direction.

With a mere flick of his wrist, the battlefield bent to his will.

Shadows rose from the ground, swallowing his enemies whole. The stone beneath his feet cracked and split, sending waves of destruction through the ranks of those who opposed him.

And yet—

Across the battlefield, a lone figure stood against him.

Cairon.

Not the Cairon I knew now, but the one from before.

Younger. Harsher. Filled with an unrelenting determination that burned like fire.

I could see it in his stance.

The way he held his sword, the way his magic swirled around him like a storm barely contained.

This was the battle that had decided everything.

The battle that had ended the villain’s reign.

The battle where Cairon had—

"No."

The villain’s voice echoed, breaking through the chaos. His head snapped toward me, his gaze sharp, knowing.

"You don’t belong here."

The vision shattered.

I stumbled backward, gasping for air.

Cairon was there instantly, catching my arm before I could collapse completely. "What happened?"

I shook my head, my breath uneven. "I saw it."

"Saw what?"

"The final battle," I murmured, my fingers curling against my palm. "The day you killed him."

Cairon’s grip on me tightened slightly. "And?"

I met his gaze. "And he saw me."

The words were barely above a whisper, but they carried a weight that made the silence that followed feel suffocating.

Cairon’s expression darkened. "That’s not possible."

I swallowed hard. "I think we both know that logic stopped applying the moment I woke up in this body."

He didn’t argue.

Because we both knew the truth.

If the villain had seen me in the vision—

It meant that some part of him still existed.

Somewhere.

Waiting.

And he knew I was here.

A low rumble shook the chamber.

The torches flickered wildly, the shadows stretching across the walls like living things.

I turned back to the pedestal.

The black cloth that had once covered it was gone—vanished as if it had never been there.

And in its place—

A crown.

Dark metal, jagged and sharp, pulsing with the same energy that had surged through my veins during the fight.

A crown that had once belonged to him.

Cairon swore under his breath.

I took a step closer. I couldn’t stop myself. The pull was too strong.

"Elara."

Cairon’s voice was sharp, a warning.

I barely heard him.

The whispers were back, growing louder, more insistent.

Take it.

Claim what is yours.

I reached out—

And the ruins exploded.

A force slammed into me, sending me crashing backward. The world spun, the air thick with power as the entire temple awoke.

Stone cracked.

Magic roared.

And beneath it all—

A voice, deeper than before, stronger.

"You have returned."

The ruins were no longer silent.

They were alive.

And something was waiting for me inside.

-----

The ruins trembled beneath my feet, the air thick with magic so ancient it felt like the very walls were breathing. Darkness surged around the fallen stones, slithering across the cracked ground like ink spilling from a wound.

Cairon was already moving. His hand found my arm, yanking me back just as another pulse of energy erupted from the pedestal. The crown sat untouched, yet the force radiating from it was undeniable—like a heart still beating after death.

A voice, deep and reverberating, filled the chamber.

"You have returned."

I sucked in a sharp breath. The words weren’t a question. They weren’t even a greeting. They were a statement, a certainty carved into the bones of this place.

Cairon’s grip tightened. His entire body was coiled, every muscle tense, ready to act. "Elara, don’t."

But I wasn’t moving.

I wasn’t even breathing.

Because something was pulling me forward.

Not physically—no unseen force dragged me across the stone floor. But deep inside me, a part of my soul stretched toward the crown, drawn to it in a way that defied logic.

I knew what it was.

Memory.

Echoes of a past life that refused to let go.

The villain had once stood here. He had once reached for that very same crown. He had placed it upon his head and become something more than a man—something greater, something feared.

And now, history threatened to repeat itself.

Another wave of power surged through the chamber, shaking dust loose from the high ceilings. The shadows at the edges of the room twisted, taking on shapes that shouldn’t have been there—figures, moving, whispering.

I clenched my teeth, forcing my feet to stay planted where they were.

This wasn’t real.

This was the past trying to claw its way back into the present.

Cairon stepped in front of me, his sword already drawn. The runes along its blade pulsed faintly, absorbing the dark energy before it could reach us. "Elara. Look at me."

I dragged my gaze away from the crown, my breath unsteady.

"You need to fight it," he said, his voice lower now, steadier. "Whatever it is, don’t let it take hold of you."

But before I could answer, the entire chamber shifted.

The walls stretched, the ceiling rising higher, the ruins warping until the crumbling stone was no longer ruins at all.

I wasn’t standing in a broken temple anymore.

I was standing in a throne room.

The torches burned with violet flames, casting eerie light across the obsidian walls. The floor gleamed with polished black marble, a sharp contrast to the crimson banners that draped from above.

And at the end of the hall—

A throne.

It loomed before me, impossibly dark, carved from the very essence of shadow itself.

And sitting upon it—

Him.

The villain.

Not a vision.

Not a memory.

He was here.

Alive. Watching me with an expression I couldn’t read, golden eyes flickering with something between amusement and hunger.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his chin against his hand as he studied me. "So," he murmured, his voice rich and familiar. "You’ve finally arrived."

The world felt like it had stopped moving.

I couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t move.

Because he wasn’t just watching me—

He was waiting for me.