Chapter 1075: The Unrecorded History

The garden fell into a sudden hush.

Now, High King knew why Belsethia had dismissed all unrelated personnel.

“You’re surprised,” the Silver Empress observed, her gaze fixed on High King sitting opposite her. “It seems this isn’t the answer you wanted to hear.”

“No, in a way, it’s almost good news,” High King exhaled softly, steadying his thoughts as he pondered the deeper implications behind Belsethia’s revelation. “But I am truly taken aback. Could you tell me more? The details of those cults’ activities—what kind of gods were they communicating with, and what phenomena did they trigger?”

“Of course,” Belsethia smiled faintly, then seemed to drift into distant memories. Her voice lowered as she spoke slowly, thoughtfully. “It all began with the Fall of the White Star… As you know, when the White Star fell, the Druids lost the gods they had worshiped for generations. The original church institutions gradually transformed into various academic bodies and secret societies of the gifted. History books sum up this transformation simply as a ‘difficult transition’—but in truth, the struggle the elves endured to accept this reality was far more painful than any brief historical note suggests.

“Short-lived races like humans can hardly understand this. Uncle High King, I speak frankly because for humans, even the most painful events can be forgotten or adapted to in a short time—sometimes just a generation or two, sometimes less. But for elves, whose lives span two to three thousand years or more, some Druids from the time of the White Star’s fall still live today. Our long lifespans mean we remember those hardships for centuries. And for some devout servants… even after centuries pass, they cannot accept the death of their gods.

“It was under these circumstances that some stubborn Druid cults emerged. People often think the original Spiritist Druids were the most steadfast ‘primordial believers,’ but in fact, the unacknowledged secret cults were. Most were high-ranking priests and ascetics from the ‘Age of the Gods,’ whose faith in the deities was the foundation of their worldview and life’s meaning. After the White Star’s fall, the original Church of the Nature Gods descended into chaos, facing an inevitable schism. These extreme devotees, seeking to protect the sacred legacy, took many holy texts and scattered into the deep forests. Over the following centuries, they formed several major secret cults.”

High King couldn’t help but interrupt: “What was the Elven Court doing at the time?”

“Dealing with our own chaos,” Belsethia replied. “You can hardly imagine how deeply the Nature God faith influenced elven society over three thousand years ago—it was a mire even deeper than the human pantheon. So when it suddenly vanished, the turmoil consumed all the court’s attention. Meanwhile, those Druid cults took root in the remote mountains and forests, almost unchecked, and began trying all sorts of methods to restore their former glory.

“Although many Druids saw visions of the White Star’s fall, and some guessed it meant the ‘death’ of the Nature Gods, there were still devout believers who thought the gods had merely severed contact temporarily—that it was a divine test, or even a new ‘revelation.’ They explained the despair with various reasons, and driven by these beliefs, the cults experimented with new rituals, built new faith systems, and even altered old church texts to make sense of the situation.

“This went on for centuries. At first, their activities were minor and discreet, so the court barely noticed. We thought of them as hermit groups retreating to the forests, unable to bear the loss of their gods. But over time, things changed.

“Some cults merged to form larger ‘Woodland Sects,’ and their rituals grew deeper and more dangerous. Soon, disturbing phenomena appeared in the forests. Elves reported maddening illusions near the hermits’ settlements, whispers echoing in their minds, and even enormous creatures—never before seen in the real world—emerging from the woods.

“The Elven Court was first alerted by a ranger’s report. A forest hunter accidentally stumbled upon a cult stronghold, where thousands had gathered for a ritual. Among them were villagers from nearby settlements and travelers who had vanished along the roads. The hunter saw the cultists worshipping a massive animal carved into the stone walls as an idol, believing it to be the new incarnation of the Nature God. After a long, unsettling ceremony, the hunter witnessed the stone animal step down from the wall and accept offerings and prayers from the faithful.”

High King held his breath, listening intently, then finally asked, “And then… did the Elven Court destroy this cult?”

“Yes, though few know of it,” Belsethia said calmly. “It was undoubtedly heresy. The ‘god’ they communicated with and summoned was a dangerous unknown entity. The court could not allow such a threat to fester. So the Empress at the time—my grandmother—immediately ordered the cult’s leaders arrested. The casual followers scattered. After lengthy interrogations, the court found the core members had been consumed by a fanatical, twisted faith in the Nature God, even trying to proselytize among the guards. They were executed without exception.

“What’s more unsettling is that after destroying the cult, the court sent several expeditions to search their former stronghold, hoping to find traces of that ‘god.’ All they found were shattered reliefs and unexplained ashes. The ‘god’ had vanished without a trace.

“Similar incidents occurred several more times—from my grandmother’s reign, to my father’s, and now mine. Five centuries ago, I personally ordered the destruction of the last cult. Since then, no new cults or ‘gods’ have appeared, and the forests have calmed. But I still cannot be certain these dangerous groups have been completely and permanently eradicated. They always seem to find a way to rise again, hiding somewhere deep in the vast wilderness.”

Belsethia’s story ended, her calm eyes meeting High King’s, whose mind churned with thoughts.

He absorbed the shocking information the Silver Empress had shared, and couldn’t help but reflect on many things.

The first was the “gods” that vanished with the cults—their collective worship and harsh rituals had birthed these “thought-forms,” which dissipated like illusions. This reminded him of a piece of intelligence Amorn, the Great Stag, had once shared:

The earliest gods were extremely weak—perhaps a few stout clubs and sharp spears could have destroyed them…

His second thought was that Amorn’s decision to feign death for three thousand years was indeed wise. The elves’ long lifespans had led to a different kind of “attachment” than humans. After so many centuries, the memory of the Nature Gods’ fall still lingered—a truly astonishing fact. Had Amorn not chosen to feign death, perhaps those “loyal believers” would have forcibly reestablished a connection with the god…

Beyond that, Belsethia’s intelligence confirmed many of the Rebellion Project’s findings, and validated much of High King’s own speculation about divine mechanisms. This was an immense gain.

“It seems you have many more questions,” the Silver Empress smiled. “Though this goes beyond our original exchange, I am happy to continue answering.”

High King asked, “After so many encounters with these cults, does the Elven Court still simply label them as ‘heretical sects’?”

“Of course. They are unquestionably heresy,” the Silver Empress answered evenly. “Don’t forget, I am the High Priestess of the Druid Orthodoxy. To me, any cult attempting to establish a ‘new Nature God faith’ is heretical by definition…”

High King met her gaze. “And at the same time, you are the Silver Empress, ruler of an empire. So those cults are not only heretical—they must be heretical.”

The Silver Empress paused, then sighed softly. “Uncle High King, after all these years, you still speak so bluntly.”

“I’ve been asleep for over seven centuries. Time hasn’t passed much for me—and even after seven hundred years, the world’s rules haven’t changed much,” High King said, shaking his head. “What those cults did was undoubtedly a huge threat—not only to other Druid factions but to imperial order. I know this well. And for the theocratic Silver Empire, such a threat is even more deadly. The Nature Gods have fallen; the royal family, deprived of divine support, cannot allow a group of uncontrolled Druids to truly create a new god…”

The Silver Empress frowned slightly. “So, they really did create a ‘god’…”

“If my theoretical model is correct, it was some kind of nascent form, or an earlier psychological illusion born from collective thought, in the process of transforming into the real world. But because the number of believers was too small and the time too short, this process was greatly prolonged—giving you the chance to interrupt it,” High King nodded, then asked with some puzzlement, “Did you never realize those were truly ‘gods’? Did you never conduct formal research?”

“We suspected, but no one dared to conclude,” the Silver Empress said frankly. “After encountering the first cult, the Elven Court vaguely sensed the danger and sensitivity of the matter. For thousands of years, only the royal family knew the full details. Research was conducted in strict secrecy. Outsiders only knew the court had sent troops to destroy evil cults in the forest, but no one knew what else we had destroyed. Even so, we treated those mysterious beings as akin to evil gods or ‘transcendent spirits.’ Our research was based on that assumption. And since those ‘spirits’ always dissipated quickly, our internal studies made little progress—especially in recent centuries, when research nearly ceased.”

High King was momentarily stunned. He felt a pang of regret. The Silver Empire had come so close to the truth—perhaps even earlier than Gondor—to the terrifying reality behind the gods. Yet they lingered on the edge of that “rebellion” threshold, never crossing it. If they had been bolder, if they hadn’t hidden these secrets so deeply and for so long, if they had joined the human Rebellion Project during Gondor’s time… would the world’s current state be different?

But he quickly dismissed such pointless speculation. None of it was possible—even if time were reversed.

The Silver Empire was a theocratic state. Even though their original state religion had long since become little more than a hollow tradition, the unique status of their rulers and the intricate, convoluted political structure made it impossible for them to stray too far down that path. And even if you set that aside… under normal circumstances, who could have imagined that gods themselves were born from “currents of thought,” unless they had the chance to hear it directly from the divine?

The elves could only regard those “spirits” conjured by the secret cults as either malevolent gods or mysterious “transcendent entities” of unknown origin.

At that thought, Gawain suddenly found himself with a new question. “I’m curious—after all these years, the Elven Court has dealt with those secret cults countless times. Even if their research has been slow, haven’t you ever considered… creating a god yourselves, or at least trying to communicate with the natural gods? After all, the Silver Queen and Silver Emperor serve as the High Priests of the Druidic faith, so in a way, divine authority underpins your legitimacy. If you had a true god backing you…”

“We never did,” the Silver Queen interrupted with a smile, shaking her head before Gawain could finish. “The reason is simple. After the gods left, we suddenly realized—without a god standing behind us, we could still be the true heirs.”

“…I see.” Gawain paused, then spoke in a low voice.

Then he couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Who would have thought? As the highest priestess of the Druids, the Silver Queen is actually the one who least wants the natural gods to return.”

“You’re mistaken,” the Silver Queen replied, shaking her head again. “The ones who truly don’t want the natural gods to come back aren’t me—they’re the leaders of those secret cults who actually managed to summon ‘gods,’ only to discover those ‘gods’ were not the natural deities. They always act fanatical and devout, calling the beings they summon new incarnations of the natural god Amorn. But when we bring them to Amorn’s sanctum for judgment, they end up trembling with fear and anxiety. That tragic distortion—once you’ve seen it, you never forget it.”

Gawain carefully mulled over her words, falling into thoughtful silence. Across from him, the Silver Queen smiled gently and nudged the cup of tea in front of him a little closer.

“Uncle Gawain, your tea’s gone cold.”

(End of chapter)