The Chosen Exile

Is there really a utopia? - Michelle Liew

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Aristol was an unseen shadow in the city of Urelia. He had once been part of the gilded aristocracy, the ruling class of the utopian city, where magic guided technology, and citizens lived in perfect harmony.

Or so they thought.

But Aristol knew the truth. Urelia was a haven--for citizens who followed the aristocracy's script. But he had ripped out the last page from their story...

And became alienated. He had been nothing for five years. But he was now being called to fix everything they shattered.

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At the council's behest, Aristol found himself at Skylark, their sky-bound citadel, which they called their paradise. It was far from that to Aristol-only a gold-plated facade.

12 rulers, draped in white robes with gold trim, faced him, faces somber.

Their illusion is coming apart, Aristol thought.

The council's leader, Normana, rose and came forward. She spoke, her voice almost pleading.

"The magical core that sustains our nation is failing, and with it, so will Uerelia. We've tried everything- spells, rituals, binding souls--nothing has worked."

Except for one--and it was forbidden.

"Only one has ever broken the system. You defied our laws before. Do it again."

Aristol almost scoffed. They had isolated him for shattering their utopia. But they needed him now.

He followed them to the citadel's chambers, where he studied the core. It wasn't dying. It was rejecting the council.

The Gods of Uerelia weren't fading--they were judging.

And their wrath was palpable.

He knew why. He heard the faint whisper of forgotten voices--of those the council had built their perfect kingdom upon. The air thickened with sadness, heavy and cloying.

He knew whom he truly served.

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Aristol clenched his teeth, his decision firm.

"If Uerelia wants justice, we'll give her justice."

The council thought he would fix the core. But instead, he unbound it.

And it spoke. The sky darkened. The citadel trembled.

The towers fell.

The Forgotten rose from the shadows, returning in a surge of golden light. Their voices resounded through Uerelia, growing louder with each passing moment.

Normana and the council turned to each other, panic written on their faces. Without power.

"Please...please stop..."

But Aristol straightened himself.

"A utopia built on suffering is not a utopia."

With a final whisper, he let Uerelia decide her fate.

She didn't collapse. She evolved.

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But rotted from within.

Her skies turned a sickly grey hue. The Forgotten WERE free, but at a cost.

Uerelia's golden towers were hollow, their once enshrined elegance now grotesque. The streets crumbled under the weight of the Forgotten, but not how Aristol had envisioned.

They weren't seeking mere equality--they wanted revenge. With Aristol a part of their dark justice.

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Dawn broke, and Aristol stared at the ruins he once thought he could rebuild. The red sky above him was a violent whirlpool; the once powerful magic, a storm.

The Forgotten? Embittered.

The golden citadel returned, now a dark tower.

A paradise for one, a nightmare for another. Belonging to neither.

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This work is entirely original. The presence of AI tags is coincidental.