My Descendants Are My Power

Half a month passed.

One by one, Blackwood's allies and friends arrived at the outskirts of Glory City, their faces etched with grief and disbelief. Even Jimmy Martinez, a respected member of the Oracle Chamber from the distant Imperial Capital, had rushed to the scene, his heart heavy with dread.

The air crackled with residual energy, a silent testament to the battle that had raged across the land. For miles around, the earth was scarred and lifeless, a desolate wasteland where once a thriving city had stood.

Yet, strangely, Glory City itself seemed… normal. Buildings had been repaired, streets cleared of debris. The citizens went about their daily lives, their laughter and chatter echoing through the streets as if nothing had happened.

Jimmy refused to believe it. He had trusted his sources, trusted the Oracle Chamber's intelligence network. Never before had he wished for their information to be wrong.

He approached a passerby, his voice trembling with apprehension. "Excuse me, friend, is… is everything alright here?"

The man stopped, his eyes locking onto Jimmy's with an intensity that sent chills down his spine. For a moment, they simply stared at each other, the silence stretching into an eternity. Then, just as suddenly, the man's expression softened, a smile spreading across his face as he continued on his way, exchanging pleasantries with a fellow citizen as if nothing had happened.

It was… unsettling. The city's normalcy felt staged, a facade masking a deeper, more sinister truth.

"Something's not right," Jimmy muttered, his gaze sweeping over the bustling streets. "These people… they're alive, but… they're like… like living ghosts."

He closed his eyes, focusing his psychic senses, his vision shifting as he peered through the illusion. A faint shimmer surrounded the city, a web of intricate runes woven into the very fabric of reality.

"A death array!" he gasped, his blood turning to ice.

He grabbed another passerby, his fingers closing around the man's arm. The man's flesh was cold, lifeless, devoid of warmth or vitality.

"Don't disturb them."

Jimmy whirled around to see a group of figures approaching, their faces etched with sorrow.

Duke Kenneth of Cloudview County, Jon from the Rice family, Bryce, the King of Phillips, Chuck from the Arcane Society… all of Blackwood's closest allies, dressed in mourning clothes, their heads bowed in respect. They moved through the bustling crowds like ghosts, their presence unnoticed, their grief ignored.

Jimmy opened his mouth to speak, but Kenneth silenced him with a shake of his head. They continued towards the Blackwood estate, their footsteps heavy with sorrow.

The estate had been meticulously restored, every broken window repaired, every scorch mark erased. But the silence within those walls was deafening. Servants moved like automatons, their faces blank, their movements precise and emotionless, as if following a script they no longer understood.

At the heart of the estate stood the Blackwood Sacred Tree, its once vibrant leaves now a cascade of crimson, falling like tears in the autumn breeze. But the tree was lifeless, its energy spent, its spirit broken.

One by one, they reached out, their fingers closing around the fallen leaves, their faces a mixture of grief and confusion.

Then, as if guided by an unseen hand, they turned towards the Iron Forest Horse stables.

A faint melody drifted from within, a haunting tune that sent shivers down their spines.

They entered the stables to find themselves surrounded by statues, each one a perfect likeness of a Blackwood clan member. There was Nathan, his shoulders heavy with the weight of the world, Lucas, his sword strapped to his back, Amelia, her medicine pouch at her side, Julian, his muscular torso bare, Olivia, her gaze sharp and calculating even in stone…

It was as if the entire Blackwood clan had gathered in that place, frozen in time, their spirits forever bound to the city they had sworn to protect.

The music swelled, drawing them deeper into the heart of the stables.

They found Dennis seated before a guqin, his fingers plucking at the strings, his eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and quiet determination. He glanced at them, his expression unreadable.

"You have come to pay your respects," he said, his voice soft but steady. "Your concern is appreciated, but unnecessary. If you have questions… ask."

"Dennis," Kenneth choked out, his voice thick with emotion. "We've searched everywhere, but… we don't understand. Who were they? Where did they come from? What happened to Edward? My sister… she hasn't spoken a word since that day…"

"You ask too much," Dennis replied, his voice a low murmur. "Even the combined might of the Blackwood clan was not enough to stop them. Some truths are best left buried."

Kenneth bristled, but the sight of the surrounding statues silenced him. Dennis's words, though cryptic, confirmed their worst fears.

"If that is all you seek… then leave," Dennis said, his gaze returning to the guqin. "There is no need for incense or offerings."

He closed his eyes, his fingers dancing across the strings, the music taking on a mournful tone. "Sacred Tree, see our guests out."

The air shimmered, the scent of pine needles filling the air as the Blackwood Sacred Tree, its branches swaying gently, enveloped them in its embrace.

And then they were gone, standing once more outside the city walls, the bustling streets of Glory City nothing more than a distant memory.

Dennis continued to play, his music a lament for the fallen, a prayer for the lost.

"I too have questions," he whispered, his voice filled with a longing that echoed through the empty stables. "Where are you? Are you still out there, somewhere? I have faith. You will return. And until then…"

"I will guard your legacy."

…

Outside Glory City, Blackwood's allies stood in stunned silence, their faces etched with a mixture of grief and bewilderment.

"What… what was that?" Jimmy stammered, his mind reeling.

Bryce placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, his eyes filled with unshed tears. "After the attack… we came here, hoping against hope… but it was too late. The assassins… they spared the citizens, but… the Blackwoods… they were gone."

"When the masked figures left, the citizens… they led us here, to the Sacred Tree. They told us what happened… how the Sacred Tree, using the last of its power, had cast a powerful illusion, preserving the city, preserving the memory of the Blackwood clan."

"They refuse to believe it's over. They cling to the hope that one day… the Blackwoods will return."

Jimmy stared at the shimmering dome that enveloped Glory City, his heart aching for the people trapped within that bittersweet illusion.

The sun began to set, casting long shadows across the land. But above Glory City, the Blackwood clan's emblem still shone brightly, a beacon of hope in the gathering darkness.

Inside, the citizens laughed and celebrated, their lives a poignant echo of a time before tragedy struck. They would continue to live out their days, repeating the same routines, clinging to the same memories, their hearts forever bound to the clan that had vowed to protect them.

They believed. They had to.

Even if that day…

Never came.