Morning arrived with an odd reluctance. Aethel, the golden sun, seemed pale, as if its light were filtered through an invisible veil. Rael felt it in his bones as he swung his wooden sword in the training yard. The air no longer felt clear; it was heavy, laden with the unspoken words from yesterday's conversation.
Tap.
The branch in Velkarion's hand deflected his attack with ease, as always. But this time, something was different.
"Your focus is scattered," Velkarion said, his voice flatter than usual. He wasn't looking at Rael, but towards the horizon, at the forest stretching beyond the village. "Your mind is noisy. I can hear it from here."
"Just thinking about breakfast," Rael excused himself, trying to muster his usual smile, but it felt stiff on his lips.
"No," Velkarion interrupted, his golden eyes finally fixing on his son. Their intensity made Rael shiver. "You're thinking about the world outside Elberath. You're thinking about ancient heroes and monsters. You're thinking about Velmorth."
Rael fell silent. Caught. Cassien and Kara's visit had planted seeds of unrest within him, and those seeds were now taking root, creeping into his usually cheerful mind.
"It's just a bedtime story," Rael replied softly.
"All stories stem from forgotten truths," Velkarion said. He lowered his branch. "Training is over for today. Go, clear your mind. But remember, the forest has ears."
The advice felt more like a warning. Rael, feeling choked by the strange atmosphere at home, decided to do exactly as suggested. He needed a distraction. Something real, something he could strike, something that could make him forget the formless shadows haunting his father.
"I'm going to the Frozen Ridge," he told Selie a while later, fastening his hunting dagger to his waist.
Selie, mending fishing nets in front of her hut, raised an eyebrow. "Frozen Ridge? For what? There's nothing there but fog and dead trees."
"That's the point," Rael said. "I need peace and quiet." He paused, then added in a lighter tone, "And I hear Cryowulf fangs fetch a good price at the market. Enough to treat you to berry pie for a month, maybe."
Cryowulf. Ice wolves that moved in packs and hunted their prey by listening to their heartbeats. A Class-B beast, a more serious challenge than a young Salamandrix.
Selie looked at him anxiously. "You're going alone? Rael, those wolves…"
"I'm Velkarion's son," Rael interrupted, his tone sharper than he intended. Seeing the hurt look on Selie's face, he softened his voice. "I'll be fine, Sel. It's just a short hunt. I'll be back before Solara sets."
The journey to the Frozen Ridge was a transition. The lush green forest around Elberath gradually thinned, replaced by slender pine trees and rocks covered in ice moss. The air became thin and cold, and the silence felt deafening, broken only by the howling wind that wailed like a tormented soul. It was here that Rael felt he could breathe. Here, the shadows of politics and responsibility felt distant.
He found his tracks after an hour of tracking: large claw prints on the thin layer of snow, too large for an ordinary wolf. He smiled. Adrenaline began to flow, cleansing his mind of doubt. This was his world. The world of hunting, strength, and instinct.
He followed the tracks into a narrow valley flanked by ice cliffs. Thick fog hung low, limiting his vision. He slowed his pace, sharpening his senses. He knew he was being watched.
Suddenly, the silence broke. From behind the fog to his right, a creature burst forth. A Cryowulf, larger than he imagined, with bluish-white fur that blended with the snow and eyes that shone like shards of ice. It didn't growl; it moved in deadly silence, only the sound of its claws clicking on the ice audible.
Rael reacted instinctively. He drew his sword—no longer a wooden sword, but a real steel sword forged by his father—and parried the wolf's lunge in a shower of sparks. The force behind the attack pushed him back a few steps. This was no lazy fire lizard.
The wolf leaped back, circling him with agile and patient movements. Its eyes never left Rael's chest. It was listening.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
Rael's heart pounded, pumping hot blood throughout his body. He grinned. "You like the music, huh?"
He lunged forward, a blur of speed and strength. His sword whistled through the air, aimed at the wolf's neck. But the Cryowulf was smarter. It didn't dodge, but ducked under the swing of the sword and lunged forward, using its claws to attack Rael's legs.
Rael leaped back, feeling a cold sting as the claws tore through his leather trousers and scratched his skin. Blood dripped onto the snow, a stark crimson contrast.
Damn. He underestimated it. The frustration from the morning flared again, and his heartbeat quickened.
The Cryowulf seemed to smile, revealing its fangs like ice daggers. It had found its opponent's rhythm. The more Rael attacked with emotion, the easier he was to predict.
Rael stopped, panting. His breath puffed out in the cold air. His father's words echoed back. True strength doesn't come from muscles, but from resolve. From your core. Your mind is noisy. I can hear it.
He had to calm down.
Rael closed his eyes for a moment. He forced himself to slow his breathing, ignoring the pain in his leg. He channeled his Knight's Aura, not to attack, but to control himself. He imagined his heartbeat slowing, becoming as calm and cold as the ice around him.
Thump… thump… Thump… thump…
The Cryowulf tilted its head, confused. Its noisy target had suddenly become silent. It had lost its advantage.
That's when Rael opened his eyes. His violet eyes were now cold and focused. He no longer lunged forward. He waited.
The wolf, losing its patience, finally lunged again. This time, Rael was ready. He didn't parry. He stepped aside at the last second, letting the creature's momentum carry it past. In the fraction of a second when the wolf's flank was exposed, Rael's sword moved. Not a wild, powerful swing, but a precise and efficient thrust, piercing right between its ribs, straight to the heart.
The Cryowulf gasped, letting out a choked sound. It staggered for a moment, staring at Rael with disbelieving eyes, before finally collapsing to its side, turning the snow beneath it crimson.
Rael stood over the wolf's carcass, his chest rising and falling slowly. The fight had been harder than it should have been. His victory felt hollow. He looked at the wound on his leg. This was the result of his carelessness, of his distracted mind.
This world wasn't as simple as he thought. And perhaps, he wasn't as strong as he thought he was.
That night, Velkarion wasn't sitting brooding in his chair. He stood in front of an old map of the Asterin continent hidden behind a tapestry in his study. His finger traced a point far to the south, a region marked as Elyvion, the Forbidden Land.
This is where the portal to Velmorth was located. This is where its secret headquarters lay. And this is where his son's destiny would be decided.
He had spent over a century in this world. He came as an agent of conquest, a conqueror sent to weaken Virelya from within, preparing it for "the unification of will". He slaughtered demonic armies, banished dragons, and became a hero to the race he was supposed to destroy. It was all part of his long-term plan.
But he never planned for Rael.
The boy, with dark silver hair and violet eyes like his mother's, was a flaw in his mission. An unexpected variable. A weakness. A brutal and absolute love that was now eroding Velmorth's will within him.
Cassien and Kara's visit was a sign. The Council of Nine Eyes in Velmoria must have sensed his hesitation. They would soon send someone—or something—to check on his progress. Perhaps Thalisa, Rael's cruel "sister" loyal to the doctrine. Or perhaps Kaer-Thuum, his replacement general.
Velkarion touched the scar above his eyebrow, the only wound that Velmorth's regeneration could never heal. It wasn't a wound from battle, but a memento from Rael's mother, who had seen the truth in his eyes moments before dying. A wound of love, deeper than any sword.
He heard Rael's slightly limping footsteps outside. The boy had returned, carrying the scent of blood and snow. He had faced danger and won, but Velkarion could feel a new crack in his confidence.
Good.
The boy needed to learn that this world wasn't a playground. He needed to be broken before he could be rebuilt into something stronger. Something capable of surviving what was to come.
Velkarion turned away from the map, his face once again becoming the mask of a wise and loving father. But in his golden eyes, war raged. He knew Elberath's peace was about to end. The sky would split, and he was the storm that would tear it apart.
"Forgive me, Rael," he whispered into the silence of the room. "Your perfect world is about to burn. And I will be the one to light the fire."