Magic Pot in the Cave of Priceless - Chapter 35: Chapter 35
You are reading Magic Pot in the Cave of Priceless, Chapter 35: Chapter 35. Read more chapters of Magic Pot in the Cave of Priceless.
They stood in the aftermath of transformation.
The Cave of Priceless was no longer a chamber of ancient stone and memory, but a living sanctuary — a forest of light beneath the earth. Trees with crystal leaves stretched upward into darkness that shimmered like dawn. Water flowed where once there was only dust. And the pedestal that once held the Magic Pot now bloomed with silver flowers, each petal shaped like a forgotten rune.
Arias held the pot, now cool and quiet in his hands. Its glow had dimmed, not in death, but in completion. It had poured out what it was meant to release — and now waited, patient as soil after rain.
Dren stepped forward, eyes wide. “Did… we do it? Is it over?”
Elira didn’t answer right away. She walked slowly around the blooming forest, her fingers brushing against glowing ferns that shimmered with inner music. Her voice, when she spoke, was low with awe.
“We changed something. Maybe everything.”
A breeze moved through the cave, though there was no wind — only breath, as though the cave itself exhaled in relief.
Then Arias saw it: in the heart of the new grove, where roots curled around starlit stones, a new object had appeared. Not summoned, not dropped — but grown.
It was a mirror.
Oval, framed in woven gold and ashwood, it stood without support. Arias approached slowly, the Magic Pot cradled in his arms. He looked into the glass — and it didn’t show his reflection.
Instead, it showed the world above.
He saw Eldermoor — peaceful, untouched.
The Everdeep Forest — still, but glowing slightly with the same light now pulsing in the cave.
He saw the sky — no longer cracked with unnatural hues, but soft with twilight.
And then, he saw her — the One Who Waits, now transformed, seated beneath a tree in a place Arias did not recognize. She was no longer the enemy. Her eyes were closed. Her vines had become branches. She had returned to the earth.
“She was part of the cave,” Arias whispered. “A guardian... but twisted by loneliness.”
Elira joined him at the mirror. “And now?”
“She’s part of the root again.”
Dren touched the mirror’s frame. “This is a gate, isn’t it? Back to the world?”
The Magic Pot pulsed gently in response.
But Arias hesitated. “I’m not sure we’re supposed to go back... yet.”
The three stood together, the cave breathing around them, full of power and calm. Then a voice came — not from the pot, not from the mirror, but from within each of them.
“The Bloom is not an end. It is a beginning.”
They turned.
A figure stood at the base of the grove — robed in green flame, eyes the color of moss and moonlight. It was Solenya.
Not a ghost. Not a memory. But a presence — awakened.
“You completed what we could not,” she said. “You healed the root that was torn. You brought the bloom.”
Arias approached. “What now?”
Solenya extended a hand toward the pot. “It must rest. For now. The world does not yet need its full power. But it will again.”
Arias looked down. The pot was silent — but in his heart, he felt its promise.
Elira asked, “What about us?”
Solenya smiled gently. “You will carry the seed. Not in your hands… but in your choices.”
The forest began to fade, becoming mist. The mirror shimmered. The voices of the cave receded like waves pulling back to the deep.
The journey was ending — not with fanfare, but with understanding.
Arias turned one last time. “Thank you,” he whispered to the cave, to the pot, to Solenya — and to the one who had waited too long.
And then they stepped through the mirror.
They emerged not in Eldermoor, but in a field of wildflowers just beyond the Everdeep. Morning light bathed the sky in soft gold. Birds sang.
The world was… whole.
And in Arias’s satchel, the Magic Pot slept.
But around them — in the trees, in the wind, in the heartbeats of the earth — the Cave of Priceless still bloomed.
Waiting.
The Cave of Priceless was no longer a chamber of ancient stone and memory, but a living sanctuary — a forest of light beneath the earth. Trees with crystal leaves stretched upward into darkness that shimmered like dawn. Water flowed where once there was only dust. And the pedestal that once held the Magic Pot now bloomed with silver flowers, each petal shaped like a forgotten rune.
Arias held the pot, now cool and quiet in his hands. Its glow had dimmed, not in death, but in completion. It had poured out what it was meant to release — and now waited, patient as soil after rain.
Dren stepped forward, eyes wide. “Did… we do it? Is it over?”
Elira didn’t answer right away. She walked slowly around the blooming forest, her fingers brushing against glowing ferns that shimmered with inner music. Her voice, when she spoke, was low with awe.
“We changed something. Maybe everything.”
A breeze moved through the cave, though there was no wind — only breath, as though the cave itself exhaled in relief.
Then Arias saw it: in the heart of the new grove, where roots curled around starlit stones, a new object had appeared. Not summoned, not dropped — but grown.
It was a mirror.
Oval, framed in woven gold and ashwood, it stood without support. Arias approached slowly, the Magic Pot cradled in his arms. He looked into the glass — and it didn’t show his reflection.
Instead, it showed the world above.
He saw Eldermoor — peaceful, untouched.
The Everdeep Forest — still, but glowing slightly with the same light now pulsing in the cave.
He saw the sky — no longer cracked with unnatural hues, but soft with twilight.
And then, he saw her — the One Who Waits, now transformed, seated beneath a tree in a place Arias did not recognize. She was no longer the enemy. Her eyes were closed. Her vines had become branches. She had returned to the earth.
“She was part of the cave,” Arias whispered. “A guardian... but twisted by loneliness.”
Elira joined him at the mirror. “And now?”
“She’s part of the root again.”
Dren touched the mirror’s frame. “This is a gate, isn’t it? Back to the world?”
The Magic Pot pulsed gently in response.
But Arias hesitated. “I’m not sure we’re supposed to go back... yet.”
The three stood together, the cave breathing around them, full of power and calm. Then a voice came — not from the pot, not from the mirror, but from within each of them.
“The Bloom is not an end. It is a beginning.”
They turned.
A figure stood at the base of the grove — robed in green flame, eyes the color of moss and moonlight. It was Solenya.
Not a ghost. Not a memory. But a presence — awakened.
“You completed what we could not,” she said. “You healed the root that was torn. You brought the bloom.”
Arias approached. “What now?”
Solenya extended a hand toward the pot. “It must rest. For now. The world does not yet need its full power. But it will again.”
Arias looked down. The pot was silent — but in his heart, he felt its promise.
Elira asked, “What about us?”
Solenya smiled gently. “You will carry the seed. Not in your hands… but in your choices.”
The forest began to fade, becoming mist. The mirror shimmered. The voices of the cave receded like waves pulling back to the deep.
The journey was ending — not with fanfare, but with understanding.
Arias turned one last time. “Thank you,” he whispered to the cave, to the pot, to Solenya — and to the one who had waited too long.
And then they stepped through the mirror.
They emerged not in Eldermoor, but in a field of wildflowers just beyond the Everdeep. Morning light bathed the sky in soft gold. Birds sang.
The world was… whole.
And in Arias’s satchel, the Magic Pot slept.
But around them — in the trees, in the wind, in the heartbeats of the earth — the Cave of Priceless still bloomed.
Waiting.
End of Magic Pot in the Cave of Priceless Chapter 35. Continue reading Chapter 36 or return to Magic Pot in the Cave of Priceless book page.