Chapter 63: The One That Walks the Dark

  A moment passed.

  Aeor floated within the violet mist, suspended in air as cold pressed against his skin.

  He did not fully understand why he had spoken those words.

  All he had to go on was the lingering sensation of betrayal, heavy enough to demand an answer.

  Vaelkar did not open his jaws, yet his voice came all the same, measured and resonant, still carrying that regal draconic weight.

  "I knew this was going to happen," Vaelkar said simply. "And knowing did not grant me the right to avert it. This is the price one pays when one touches an Aspect tied to reality."

  Aeor's jaw tightened.

  "Why did you tell anyone?" he asked.

  "Because the thirteenth is not like the others," Vaelkar said. "Most threats grow through action. This one grows through awareness. To speak of it is to place it in another mind. To place it in another mind is to widen the space it can occupy."

  The mist curled between them, quiet and watchful.

  "Some things cannot be explained," Vaelkar continued. "They must be experienced."

  Aeor noticed it then.

  For the first time, when Vaelkar spoke of the thirteenth, there was no malice in his voice.

  The realization struck him all at once.

  "It was you," Aeor said, half to himself as the pieces aligned. "You erased the records before the Forgotten Wars. You even stripped away most of your own memories."

  Vaelkar did not deny it.

  "I slew my kin, and I drove my bond to the edge of oblivion to deny him what he sought."

  A pause followed.

  "I failed to halt inevitability. Of that, I am aware. I do not even know what first compelled me to go to such lengths. But should that choice rise before me again, I would take it without hesitation."

  Aeor frowned. "If you no longer remember what truly happened, how did you know the sacrifice was worth making?"

  "Precisely because of that," Vaelkar replied. "So that no one remembers."

  Aeor weighed the words, their meaning settling deeper than he liked.

  "I sense a great struggle within you," Vaelkar said, drawing Aeor from his thoughts. "It does not stem from concern for your own existence, but for those tethered to it. Tell me. Why does this matter to you?"

  Aeor slowed, then stopped. He half turned, looking back toward the vast shape in the mountains.

  "I have changed since I came to this world," Aeor said. "There are things I no longer believe as I once did. But is it truly too much to ask that people not suffer?"

  For a moment, Vaelkar said nothing.

  Then, a low sound rumbled through the peaks as Vaelkar parted his jaws.

  "A fool at heart," he said.

  The mountains trembled as the Empyrean Wyrmkin shifted. Vaelkar raised one immense claw and extended it toward Aeor.

  Vaelkar's violet mist shifted, curling inward as a fragment tore free from his claw. What should have fallen instead slowed and was gently carried toward Aeor.

  The fragment began to change.

  Stone folded and edges softened until what descended toward him was no longer a shard, but a ring, small enough to rest upon a finger.

  Its surface was uneven and organic. Weathered bones covered the band. The metal, if it could be called that, held a muted bronze-gold hue.

  At its crown, the structure rose slightly, forming a rough silhouette reminiscent of a draconic crest.

  Aeor invoked Threadgaze.

  Ring of Draconic Accord

  Essence Tier: Kindled (D)

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Basic Properties: Allows the bearer to shape their Essence into a draconic mantle, manifesting as layered armor over the bearer's form. The mantle may extend into vestigial wings, aiding stability in the air.

  Archive Note: "Once, such marks denoted wardens sworn to carry the will of the Empyreans. This instance does not bind service. It offers an accord."

  The whisper faded.

  When the ring reached him, Aeor lifted his hand and took it gently. The metal was cool against his skin, heavier than it should have been. He slid it onto his finger without ceremony.

  "Thank you," Aeor said.

  He hesitated, the question pressing forward before he could stop it.

  "Do you think we have a chance?"

  Vaelkar did not hesitate.

  "No," he said. There was no cruelty in the answer. No attempt to soften it. "We do not. But that does not change the path we are about to take."

  Aeor lowered his gaze and slowly shook his head.

  "No," he murmured. "It does not."

  Vaelkar lifted his head.

  "May whatever you still call sacred guide you on your journey to the land of the forgotten," he said.

  Aeor inclined his head in return.

  Then Vaelkar roared.

  The sound tore through the sky, vast and commanding. It rolled across the peaks and poured down into the fields below. One by one, voices answered. Distant at first, then closer.

  Most of the remaining Wyrmkin rose into the air, wings beating as they turned toward the mountains.

  Vaelkar rose.

  The mountains shuddered as his wings unfolded. Violet mist poured from his scales in slow ribbons, wrapping briefly around the other Wyrmkin as they gathered near him. Then, with a single beat of his wings, he tore himself free of the peaks and climbed into the endless dark.

  One by one the other Wyrmkin followed, their silhouettes thinning against the sky until they faded into the dark.

  Aeor watched until the last trace of them disappeared.

  Only then did he resume his descent.

  His Primeval Death loosened its hold as he lowered toward the field. The two battalions had thinned drastically. Where thousands had once stood, only a few hundred remained.

  Even so, the field was still a blur of motion.

  Aeor scanned the activity and found Zoey and the others standing together a short distance away, speaking in low voices.

  As he approached, heads turned.

  "Finished with your talk?" Velora asked.

  Aeor nodded. His gaze drifted immediately to the dusktail lounging on Zoey's shoulder, tail flicking with lazy defiance.

  Before he could speak, Zoey sighed.

  "I know," she said. "Baron is refusing to stay behind. I tried, believe me." Her mouth quirked, but it did not quite reach her eyes. "Wonder where she gets this stubbornness."

  Up close, Aeor caught the thin claw marks across Zoey's cheek.

  "I believe you," Aeor said, voice quiet. "But is it safe?"

  "No," Zoey replied flatly, and lifted Baron into her arms despite the creature's clear lack of concern. "But this cat has a mind of her own."

  "Cat?" Korren echoed, brow furrowing.

  Zoey blinked. "Right. Sorry. Dusktail." She adjusted Baron, cradling her like a spoiled noble. "I will just have to be extra careful, I guess." Her gaze flicked between Aeor and Velora. "For a moment I thought Vaelkar and Morvaketh would be coming with us, considering you two were involved. Would have made the journey a lot easier."

  "They have other priorities," Velora said.

  Rorick stepped closer, joining the circle. "While my bond, Silvarn, is no Empyrean, he is still strong. And we have Morzael's bond as well."

  "Speaking of Morzael," Korren said, scanning the field. "Has anyone seen him? He is the only one missing."

  "He will not be joining you."

  A feminine voice cut in, and every head turned toward its source.

  Kayneth.

  She approached with the same quiet authority she carried everywhere.

  "I will take his place."

  Korren and Rorick bowed immediately. Zoey, Dregor, and Velora followed a beat later, more out of respect than habit.

  "I apologize for the delayed shuffle," Kayneth said. "I hope there is no issue with the change."

  A brief look passed between the group.

  "It should be fine, Lady Kayneth," Velora said.

  Kayneth inclined her head.

  "And just Kayneth is fine."

  They gathered close, voices low as plans were repeated and adjusted. Routes were confirmed. Contingencies spoken aloud one last time, not because anyone expected them to hold, but because saying them made the unknown feel marginally smaller.

  There was no ceremony to their departure as seven mortals and two dragons set out without delay.

  Aeor, Dregor, Korren, and Rorick took their places atop Silvarn, while Zoey, Velora, and Kayneth mounted Kelrothar. With a powerful beat of wings, both Wyrmkin lifted from the field, leaving the fractured ground and its quiet urgency behind.

  Only then did the true nature of the darkness make itself known.

  It was absolute.

  Clouds smothered the sky above, thick and unbroken, swallowing any hint of celestial light. No stars. No moon. Not even a dim outline to guide the eye. Without illumination, they could not see the rider beside them.

  Torches were useless. No flame could be made large enough to matter at the altitude the dragons preferred. A few among them shaped Essence to cut through the dark in brief, controlled bursts, but the effort was taxing, and sustaining it would have drained them long before the journey ended.

  The suggestion of flying above the clouds was raised, then dismissed quickly.

  The cloud layer stretched unbroken in every direction, a vast ceiling pressed low over the world. Going higher offered no guarantee of clarity, only the added risk of what might exist beyond that shroud. There were no reports of anyone crossing it. That absence lingered like a warning.

  Had no one tried?

  Or had they tried, and never returned?

  In the end, only one option remained.

  They traveled by memory.

  By recalled contours of land and distant silhouettes veiled by the dark. They descended at intervals, briefly illuminating the world around them to confirm their path before resuming their journey.

  Progress was slow, and every passing moment reminded them that this journey would not forgive mistakes.

  They pressed on.

  Hours bled together in the dark, measured only by the slow rise of cold. Even the dragons' wingbeats began to sound muted, as if the night itself were swallowing them.

  Then a hollow sound rolled through the sky.

  Silvarn's wings faltered.

  Kelrothar pulled closer at once, the two Wyrmkin angling inward, scales brushing as they tightened formation.

  The sound came again.

  Longer this time, almost mournful.

  "What was that?" Korren asked, voice tight.

  Aeor strained his senses, but there was nothing to fix on.

  Then, in the distance, a cyan glow appeared.

  Faint at first, like a dying star glimpsed through the dark. It pulsed once, slow and deliberate.

  "There," Zoey said.

  But before anyone could respond, the glow vanished.

  It reappeared to their right.

  Kayneth did not hesitate. "Kelrothar!"

  A torrent of golden fire tore through the darkness, cutting the night.

  The flame passed straight through the glow, continuing onward until it thinned and vanished into nothing.

  Then the glow flared again, this time to their left.

  "Silvarn," Rorick snapped. "Now."

  Another beam of fire carved through the dark.

  Again, it met nothing.

  The glow did not even flicker as it began to circle them.

  Then, as abruptly as it came, it vanished.

  An oppressive silence followed.

  So complete that Aeor could hear his own breath.

  Aeor met Zoey's eyes across the gap between the Wyrmkin.

  Her mouth opened.

  "Is it—"

  The world answered her.

  The cyan light erupted into existence directly in front of them, blinding in its intensity.

  Antlers unfurled first.

  Enormous, branching arcs of spectral bone and light, etched with ancient patterns that pulsed like slow heartbeats. They curved outward and then inward with deliberate grace.

  The impact came an instant later.

  The antlers slammed into Kelrothar's chest, the force buckling scales and driving the Wyrmkin sideways as a shockwave tore through the air.

  The cyan glow deepened.

  Then the rest arrived.

  A tall, narrow body resolved beneath the antlers, its frame stretched and gaunt. Cyan essence clung to a pale, spectral structure, thickening where muscle should have formed, thinning until bone showed through in places, incomplete and exposed. The torso sagged slightly forward, as though the creature carried its weight reluctantly, its shape more suggested than fully claimed.

  Four limbs settled into place, wrong-jointed yet steady. The legs bent at unfamiliar angles, hooves pressing into empty air and holding as if the void itself had learned to bear them. Strands of essence trailed from its form, drifting and reattaching, never quite still.

  The creature finished emerging, suspended before them. Its presence closed the darkness around it, not by filling the space, but by claiming it.

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