Chapter 16 - 16: Foxfire and Valthorne arival

Three days into Valthorne, a rugged region in Solaria's Ironvale county, Killyaen spurred his Zorath—a Beginner Scholar beast with shimmering scales and hammer-like hooves—along a treacherous trail littered with jagged stones and gnarled roots. The air carried a metallic tang from hidden Zenoite veins, mingling with the scent of pine and damp earth. Elder Mara's map, a weathered parchment scrawled with her cryptic notes, guided him toward Adena, a kingdom north of Solaria where Brakus awaited at The Scaled Fang tavern. N'Nazmuz's curse pressed 30 kilograms against his frame, muscles aching but healing swiftly from yesterday's scrapes, his olive skin gleaming under the noon sun. Gold-flecked eyes scanned the horizon, his gold-tipped braid swaying as his split-leaf amulet pulsed faintly, syncing with the Zenoite shard stored in his spatial ring—an invisible artifact from Goran, alongside a Teridian dagger and the cryptic jest to ask Brakus if he's "still making love with his weapons."Killyaen hummed the "Cursed Cat" tune, a smirk curling his lips as he recalled Opeka's farewell chaos: Janko's neon-whiskered cottage glowing with Moonflower sap, Mima's door wailing "Haunted Hag," and Goran's beard mocked by a Zenoite shrine. His latest prank—a Moonflower sap-soaked banner proclaiming "Supreme Elf Rides Again!"—flapped behind Zorath, catching the eyes of passing traders. His unpredictable magnetism sparked varied reactions: a young trader's sister blushed at his suggestive wink, giggling behind her hand, while her aunt spat and clutched her cloak, muttering about "filthy rogues." Killyaen chuckled, reveling in the game. "Love me, hate me, they'll all remember the Supreme Elf," he murmured to Zorath, patting the beast's flank.The trail plunged into a ravine, its walls etched with Azurion's wave-like runes, faint and eroded, whispering of Solspire's "ancient ruins"—Opeka's vague term for the mythical First Altars. His amulet pulsed brighter, and a flicker of starlit fur drew his gaze. The luminescent fox, a Crystal cultivator of unknown level, slipped from the shadows, its ethereal glow casting patterns on a Zenoite-etched stone slab ahead. It tilted its head, star-like eyes fixed on him, urging him closer without a sound or touch. "Back for more, foxy?" Killyaen teased, his voice laced with playful innuendo. "Leading me to riches or a romp? I'm up for either." The fox blinked, unimpressed, and darted toward the slab, vanishing into a crevice.Dismounting, Killyaen's dual swords—forged by Marko, paired with the groin guard etched with "Supreme Sword Sleeps Here"—clinked at his hips. He grinned, recalling Marko's gift from Opeka's farewell, the inscription a perfect match for his provocative humor. "Gotta keep the Supreme Sword safe," he muttered, adjusting the guard with a wink at no one. Approaching the slab, he traced the runes with calloused fingers, their faint hum resonating with his High Elven fluency—a skill unknown in Opeka's isolated taverns. The Zenoite shard in his spatial ring vibrated, its glow seeping through the artifact, while his amulet's pulse quickened. "Not just some 'cursed beacon,'" he mused, smirking. "This screams Dragon-God craft. Azurion's waves, maybe?" His mind flicked to Chronicles of the Dragon-Gods, a tattered book from Opeka's shelves that spoke of "ruins of old gods" tied to Aeneria's creation. The slab wasn't a First Altar, but it was a clue, a step toward awakening his qi.A screech shattered his thoughts. A Zephyr Claw, a Beginner Knight beast with razor-sharp talons and wind-swift wings, burst from the ravine's underbrush, its feathers glinting like polished steel. "Fancy a dance, birdy?" Killyaen grinned, dodging a talon swipe that nicked his cloak. N'Nazmuz's curse fueled his reflexes, matching the beast's speed despite his qi-blindness. He pulled a vial of Moonflower sap—liquid, not the solid crystal he'd clarify later—from his spatial ring and splashed it into the Zephyr Claw's eyes, its glowing mist blinding the creature. "Bera's Bait!" he cackled, naming the gadget on the fly, its pervy title a nod to his tavern flirtations with Bera. As the beast flailed, he unleashed Wind's Rebuke, his swords slicing in a whirlwind that pinned it to a pine. With a flourish, he deployed a spring-loaded net—crafted from Zenoite scraps and Gromble oil—its oily stench making the beast thrash in disgust.Killyaen looted a Zephyr Claw talon, its edge sharp enough to carve stone, and stored it in the spatial ring with the Zenoite shard, Moonflower sap, and Teridian dagger. "You're a beauty," he purred, winking at the talon as if it were a lover. The luminescent fox reappeared, its starlit fur shimmering approval, and darted toward a trail to Crestmoore, a trade hub in Valthorne. "Follow the foxy, eh?" Killyaen mounted Zorath, his amulet pulsing in sync with the shard's glow. "Solspire's calling, and the Supreme Elf doesn't keep ruins waiting."The trail twisted through Valthorne's sinkhole-ridden terrain, each pit hinting at cursed earth, perhaps remnants of the Shattering's chaos. Mara's map marked Crestmoore for its Zenoite-forged blades, and Killyaen's thoughts drifted to Brakus and the Teridian dagger's purpose. "Making love with his weapons," Goran had said, a phrase Killyaen spun into a lewd jest. "Bet Brakus blushes like Bera," he chuckled, imagining a grizzled warrior flustered by his antics.At dusk, Crestmoore's lanterns flickered, their glow echoing Aurelion's flames. Killyaen tethered Zorath at The Iron Bloom inn and swaggered inside, his magnetism igniting chaos. A barmaid, Lila, giggled at his quip about "polishing her tankards," her cheeks flushing, while her sister, Mara—not Elder Mara—scowled and threatened to douse him with ale. "Love the fire, darling," Killyaen teased, ducking her swing, his curse healing a bruise from her slap. He ordered ale, slipping a Moonflower sap-coated coin as a prank, making Lila's fingers glow. She laughed, charmed, while Mara muttered about "cursed rogues." The tavern hummed with tales of Solspire's "ruins of old gods," and a drunk smith mentioned a "glowing blue relic" guarded by Flaevyn—glowing birds with razor-sharp feathers from Opeka's cliffs, Beginner Scholar beasts that hunted in flocks.His amulet pulsed, and the luminescent fox appeared outside, its glow dancing in the inn's windows. It darted toward Crestmoore's quarry, where Zenoite veins crisscrossed the earth. "Alright, foxy, you win," Killyaen said, draining his ale. He slipped out, swords ready, the Zenoite shard's glow urging him forward. Valthorne's secrets were unraveling, and each step pulled Killyaen closer to Solspire, Adena, and the ancient truths that would awaken his qi—and his destiny as Aeregion, the Supreme Elf.