[Deep in Duskmire Vale—Two young souls walked]
The forest had changed.
Gone were the tangled oaks and whispering birches of the lowlands. Now, the trees stood taller, older — their thick canopies blotting out the sun, casting the wilderness in eternal twilight. Moss clung to bark like ancient skin, and the air was hushed, reverent, as if they'd stepped into a sacred realm untouched by man.
Kaleon trudged forward, mud clinging to his boots, cloak tattered from bramble and blood. Beside him, Theo said nothing. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable — it was the silence of exhaustion. Of shared struggle.
Their steps slowed as the terrain shifted to soft earth and deep roots. A strange scent drifted on the breeze. Not rot, not decay — something… metallic. Like blood.
Kaleon raised a hand. They stopped.
Then they saw it.
There, beneath the massive roots of a weirwood-like tree, lay the body of a creature neither of them had ever seen — not this close.
A Moonshadow Panther.
It was magnificent even in death. Nearly twelve feet from nose to tail, its fur shimmered like ink touched with starlight — black, but iridescent, catching the faintest light with a ghostly glow. Silver markings traced its sides like living constellations. Its maw was slightly parted, revealing long, curved fangs; its eyes were closed, as though it had died in peace.
But the wounds told a different story. Deep gashes along its flank. Dried blood matted in the fur. And nearby… large, broken arrows. Poacher work. Merciless and cowardly.
Theo stepped forward, kneeling beside it. "Gods…" he whispered. "I never thought I'd see one outside the old bestiaries."
Kaleon crouched down opposite him, hand brushing the panther's still-warm side. "It wasn't dead long ago."
A soft rustle broke the silence.
Both boys snapped to attention.
From beneath a tangle of undergrowth — a low whimper.
Then another.
Theo was the first to move, carefully parting the brush with his dagger. Kaleon leaned in, heart pounding.
Two panther cubs blinked up at them, wide-eyed and trembling.
Tiny. Barely larger than house cats. But the same iridescent shimmer marked their coats, the same silver glimmer beneath their fur. They were huddled together, trying to be invisible. One let out a faint hiss — a brave warning — while the other simply shook.
Kaleon froze. His throat tightened.
"They're hers," Theo said softly. "She must've fought to the end to protect them."
A long silence passed. Wind whispered through the leaves.
Kaleon reached down slowly, offering a hand. One of the cubs sniffed at it, then — hesitantly — touched its nose to his fingers. A faint spark flared in his chest. Familiar… primal.
"They won't survive alone," Theo murmured. "Not out here."
"No," Kaleon said, voice quiet but firm. "They won't."
Theo looked to him. "So what do we do?"
Kaleon didn't answer. Instead, he gently lifted the bolder cub into his arms. The creature squirmed for a moment, then stilled, curling into his chest.
Theo chuckled faintly, then reached for the second cub — the quieter one — who, after a heartbeat of hesitation, accepted the warmth.
The boys stood there, each cradling a moonshadow cub, the soft fur pulsing with gentle heat.
The forest was silent again.
Theo glanced down at his bundle. "So... are we fathers now?"
Kaleon arched a brow. "Let's not go that far."
"Too late. I'm naming mine."
A smirk. "You always do this."
Theo grinned, but there was a flicker of sadness behind his eyes. "She died protecting them. We owe her that much."
Kaleon nodded.
They buried the mother panther beneath the roots of the tree, marking the grave with a smooth, flat stone.
When they finally turned to leave, the cubs nestled tighter against them, as if sensing they had found something — someone — to survive with.
The road ahead was still long. Still dangerous.
But now, it was no longer just two boys walking it.
Now, four hearts beat in rhythm beneath the twilight trees.
They made camp not far from the burial tree.
A small fire crackled between them, its light catching on the silvery sheen of fur. The cubs nestled beside them, full bellies and slow, steady breaths.
Theo leaned back, arms folded behind his head, one eye on his little companion. "Alright," he muttered, "you look like trouble."
The cub yawned, baring tiny fangs, then curled tighter into his side.
"I think I'll call you… Nyx." He smirked. "Goddess of the night and all that. Has a nice bite to it."
Kaleon glanced over, brow raised. "Nyx?"
"Better than 'fluffball the doom panther,'" Theo shrugged.
Kaleon looked down at the cub in his lap — calmer, observant, with bright silver eyes that didn't miss a thing.
He considered. "Then you'll be Umbra."
Theo blinked. "That sounds like something out of an ancient riddle."
Kaleon shrugged. "Means shadow. But quiet. Patient."
A beat.
"They suit us, don't they?" Theo said softly.
Kaleon gave a small nod. "They do."
The night deepened around them. The stars above blinked through the tree canopy like a hundred watching eyes.
And beneath it all, four shadows huddled by the fire — two boys, two cubs — all bound now by fate, and the forest.
[Ashenreach]
The mists rolled over the jagged cliffs like ghostly tides, drowning the stone in silver and shadow. From the high edges of the Broken Peaks, Ashenreach unfolded like a realm carved from another world — forgotten by time, feared by men.
Beneath the shroud of ever-churning clouds, the ruins stood — ancient towers cracked open by war and weather, their jagged spires reaching skyward like fingers of the dead. Ivy clung to bone-white stone. Lanterns of blue flame floated on invisible chains, casting cold glows across crumbled courtyards and glassy lakes.
The ground itself shimmered faintly — not from light, but from something older. Something woven into the soil, into the roots, into the air. Magic — deep, dormant, watching.
At the heart of it all sat the Citadel of the Unseen Flame — veiled in ash and violet winds. Its walls pulsed faintly, as if breathing.
Inside, the Hall of Echoing Thought stirred.
A vast chamber, domed and candlelit, where the air thrummed with unseen voices. Dozens of floating orbs drifted around a stone dais, each showing fractured images of forests, rivers, and roads — visions from far away.
And then… one orb flared.
Two boys, walking bloodstained and bruised, clutching satchels, and accompanied by small silver-furred beasts.
"They've crossed the Blackwood," came a voice — low, ancient, echoing. "Survived the Bleak Bloom and the Tempest Hollow. Now they near the Soul Spine Pass."
"Still alive," muttered another. "The prophecy may yet breathe."
A figure stepped from the shadows.
His robe shimmered like ink in moonlight, and his eyes were molten silver.
Master Volmyr, Keeper of the Mind's Gate.
"They awakened their cores," he said. "Both of them."
Gasps rippled across the chamber.
"Impossible," whispered a female voice — Mistress Seralyn, Flame-Seer of the Ninth Eye. "They are untrained. Unmarked."
"Yet one carries the soul of a breaker," Volmyr said, pointing to the orb. "And the other — the will of a weaver."
The Masters fell to hushed silence.
Then from the highest seat — half-hidden in shadow — another voice, brittle and commanding:
"Let them come."
High Archanist Maerion, the Old Ash King, raised his skeletal hand.
"If they survive the Maw of Skel and the hunger of the Hollow Eyes… we shall receive them."
"And if they don't?" whispered Seralyn.
"Then they are not worthy to bear the flame."
The orb shimmered again — the boys trudging on, unaware of the eyes upon them.
Two moons hung above Ashenreach now — one pale, one blood-red.
And the winds carried a single, whispered phrase through the ravines:
"They are coming."
By the time dawn broke over the whispering trees of Duskmire Vale, both the boys and the cubs let out a long, unburdened yawn. The morning was still, painted in soft gold, and peace hung in the air like mist clinging to ancient bark.
"Good morning, Kal... and to you, my brave little Nyx," Theo whispered, brushing the cub's sleek fur as sunlight danced through the leaves.
"Kal..." Kaleon echoed softly, the name foreign on his tongue. "Didn't hear that in years. Not even my own parents called me that after I first held a sword," he added, eyes tracing the sky where silver clouds drifted like the spirits of the old world. His voice faded as he gently patted Umbra, who nudged closer, sensing the weight in his rider's heart.
Kal. A name of innocence, lost to blades and banners.
A lone bird cried in the distance—not of warning, but of remembrance.
The cub, Nyx, stretched lazily, her fur shimmering with a subtle glow of twilight magic, and nuzzled against Theo's leg. She had grown fast in these past weeks, but her gentle eyes still held the innocence of a newborn. Theo chuckled softly, kneeling down to scratch behind her ears, his fingers brushing the intricate marks along her coat—symbols of their shared past, their shared journey.
Umbra, Kaleon's shadow and protector, stood tall beside him, his midnight-black fur gleaming under the first light. The bond between them was ancient, forged in the fires of battles long past. Kaleon knew he could not have made it this far without Umbra, nor would he ever wish to. The bond they shared was more than that of a man and his beast—it was a pact written in the very blood of the land.
"You know, Theo," Kaleon spoke, his eyes still cast upward, "I once believed the sky would change with every battle I won. But now... now it just feels like the same one. Same clouds, same endless horizon."
Theo looked up, his hand resting on Nyx's head, watching his friend with understanding. "The sky doesn't change because you're meant to change with it, Kal. Each dawn, each sunset... they're reflections of what you carry inside."
Kaleon turned back to him, a fleeting smile breaking through the storm inside him. He was always the dreamer, wasn't he?
With a low growl, Umbra nudged Kaleon's side, as if reminding him of the long journey ahead. The peace of the morning was fleeting, and the time for rest was over.
The road called.
Theo scratched behind Nyx's ears as the little panther purred like a sleepy furnace.
"Well, I call you Kal. Deal with it." He leaned back against a tree, arms folded behind his head. "Can't let that sword of yours swallow the boy I grew up with."
Kaleon didn't answer right away. His eyes were on the slow-moving clouds above, pale blue morning stretched across the sky like a calm sea. Umbra nuzzled at his leg, sensing his shift in mood.
"I guess I just forgot," Kaleon murmured, stroking the fur along Umbra's spine. "What it felt like to be… someone other than a son of Skarn."
Theo glanced over. "You're still that someone, Kal. You just wear more armor over him now."
There was silence then—peaceful, not heavy. The kind that came after surviving a long night in the wild with your best friend, two magical cubs, and dreams haunted by prophecy.
Nyx suddenly leapt into Kaleon's lap with a thump and mewled. He blinked, caught off guard, and then chuckled softly, finally.
"She likes you," Theo smirked. "Must be your sad brooding prince aura. Cubs love that."
Kaleon rolled his eyes but didn't push her away.
"I think she just wants food," he said. Then, with a quieter voice, "Or maybe she knows I needed it."
Theo didn't reply this time. He just tossed Kaleon a piece of dried fruit from their bag and leaned back again.
"You'll be fine, Kal. You've got me. You've got Umbra. Nyx. And whatever the hell those eggs in the sack turn out to be."
Kaleon snorted. "Hopefully not man-eating wyverns."
"Even if they are," Theo grinned, "we'll just teach them to eat everyone else first."
Kaleon's fingers tightened around the sack, and Theo's gaze shifted warily to the horizon. The air grew thick, heavy with an unnatural stillness, as if the land itself was holding its breath.
Then, faint but undeniable, came the rumble.
A deep, guttural sound, like the growl of a beast stirred from its slumber. The earth trembled beneath them, sending a ripple of unease through the air. It was distant—yet near enough to send a shiver down their spines.
Umbra growled low, his fur bristling as his body tensed. Nyx, too, stirred, her sharp ears flicking back in alarm. There was something primal in the sound—a warning of power, ancient and untamed.
The rumble intensified, followed by a sharp crack that split the air like thunder. The ground shook again, and for a fleeting moment, they could feel it—a tremor beneath their feet, a shift in the balance of the world.
And then, from the distance, it came into view.
A silhouette, large and imposing, darkening the sky. Its wings stretched wide, casting a shadow that spread across the land like the promise of something terrible. It soared high, cutting through the clouds with the grace of a predator, its form just visible in the pale light of dawn. A drake. A massive one, larger than anything they had ever seen or imagined.
Kaleon felt his heart skip a beat as he watched the creature glide over them, its wingspan nearly blocking out the sun for a brief moment. The sound of its flight was a soft whoosh, like the whisper of a storm in the distance.
The air seemed to freeze. Neither Theo nor Kaleon could move. A cold, primal fear gripped them both, something deep within their bones that made their legs feel like stone. Umbra stood at attention, hackles raised, and even Nyx, ever the curious cub, seemed to sense the enormity of the moment.
The drake was gone as quickly as it had appeared, disappearing over the horizon, vanishing into the unknown beyond. But the silence that followed was anything but peaceful. The tremors still lingered in the earth, and the echo of its presence hung heavy in the air, like a shadow that refused to fade.
After what felt like an eternity, Theo broke the silence, his voice quiet but tinged with awe. "That... that was no ordinary drake."
Kaleon slowly exhaled, still unable to shake the feeling of dread crawling beneath his skin. "No. It wasn't. That was something ancient. Something... beyond what we should be facing."
Theo glanced at him, his face a mask of resolve. "But we're still standing, Kal. We've made it this far."
Kaleon nodded slowly, his gaze drifting to the sack at his side, where the dragon eggs still lay, hidden but pulsing with a strange energy. "Maybe we were lucky. Or maybe... too much has already occurred. This world is changing."
Theo met his eyes, and for a brief moment, they shared an unspoken understanding. Whatever lay ahead, they were no longer just two young men on a journey. They were part of something much larger—something that had begun long before their birth, and would continue long after their deaths.
"We've got more to face," Theo murmured, a grim smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "But we've made it this far, Kal. And I reckon we're still lucky enough."
Kaleon smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, lucky enough... for now."
And as the sound of distant wings faded into the unknown, the weight of their journey pressed ever harder on their shoulders.
Few minutes later—
The fire crackled low, its flames coaxed back to life with a few sticks and Theo's increasingly dramatic attempts at flint-sparking.
"Let it be known," he muttered, hunched over the kindling, "that when history tells of our mighty quest, it shall speak of Prince Theo, the flame-wielder, master of sparks and breakfast."
"You've dropped that flint three times," Kaleon deadpanned, tearing off a strip of dried bread.
"Art takes time."
Eventually, the fire caught. Theo raised his arms like a triumphant wizard and dumped a handful of dried fruits, wild herbs, and a few foraged roots into a small iron pan.
The smell of warm citrus and earthy greens drifted through the camp, mingling with the crisp mountain air. Umbra stretched out beside Kaleon, one paw lazily resting on his boot, while Nyx curled up in Theo's cloak, purring at the scent of food.
Kaleon chewed slowly, letting his shoulders relax for the first time in days.
"I could get used to this," Theo said between bites, voice muffled. "The wild, the cubs, the lack of people shouting at me to attend meetings."
"I thought you liked meetings. Didn't you call them 'ceremonies of noble patience' once?"
"That was before I realized all I ever did was nod and pretend to understand trade routes. This—" he waved his bread toward the sky, "this is simpler."
Kaleon nodded, though his eyes stayed distant.
Then—
Thrum.
It wasn't loud. Not like thunder. More like a deep hum beneath the soil, like something ancient shifting far beneath their feet.
Both boys froze.
Theo slowly set down his pan. Nyx's ears twitched. Umbra growled low, a rumble of her own echoing the distant tremor.
"You heard that, right?" Theo said, eyes narrowing.
Kaleon nodded. He placed a hand on the ground. It was still again. Quiet.
"Could be the mountain settling," he said, though his voice lacked certainty.
"Or something… waking up," Theo added, not quite joking.
They both looked to the east, where the sun had begun to climb higher, painting the jagged peaks in hues of copper and flame.
No more sound followed.
Still, neither of them spoke for a while. Just the fire cracking, the breath of the wind, and the cubs pressed close.
At last, Kaleon stood and rolled his shoulders.
"Pack up. We move before the sun is too high. Ashenreach won't wait."
Theo sighed and started collecting their things.
"But if a giant worm made of stone and teeth rises from the mountain and eats us," he grumbled, "I'm blaming you."
Kaleon smirked, brushing ash from his cloak.
"I wouldn't dream of denying you the last word."
The sun had just begun its descent beyond the jagged treetops, bleeding gold through the forest canopy. The path ahead twisted like a serpent, overgrown and veiled by nature's relentless reclaiming. Kaleon and Theo, still only boys of eight and nine, trudged warily along the forgotten trail. Days of travel had made their clothes tattered, their limbs weary, but their eyes remained sharp, instincts on edge after surviving so much already.