The boy stood beside the wagon for a moment, his bare feet brushing against dirt scattered with ash and blood. Moonlight cast long shadows across his pale skin, but his eyes—those starless, silent eyes—were fixed skyward.
He pressed both hands together, fingers laced in a child's solemn gesture of prayer.
"Let there be luck," Froy thought, "For me, and for those walking beside me. Let us pass this day... untouched."
A faint shimmer, like stardust, rippled through the air around him. Barely seen. Barely felt. The third miracle had been invoked—quietly, gently—and its effect slid into the world like breath in the dark.
Then Froy turned and climbed into the wagon.
Selene took the reins without a word, her silver hair tied behind her in a loose braid that shimmered like moonlight. Luma sat beside her, silent, ever-alert—her silver-furred ears twitching at every creak in the forest.
Brumgar climbed in after Froy, the heavy axe still gripped in his thick hands. He sat across from the boy, back straight, one eye always flicking toward the curtain covering the rear.
He hadn't let go of the axe since he'd taken it from the slaver's corpse.
Inside, the wagon creaked softly as it rolled. The wooden wheels turned with slow, patient rhythm over the uneven road. Froy lay on the padded floor beside Aryvael. The girl had already drifted off, her breaths light and steady.
Froy closed his eyes last.
And as the miracle wrapped gently around them all—silent and unseen—he slipped into dream.
The night deepened. Shadows thickened along the edges of the forest trail, and the moon cast a pale sheen over the winding road through Ythrene's silent woods.
It was too quiet.
Even the crickets had stopped.
Selene kept her gaze forward, knuckles pale against the reins. Luma sat still beside her, one hand resting on her thigh, the other near the small curved dagger at her belt. Her ears twitched, catching every rustle that wasn't there.
Inside the wagon, Brumgar sat with his axe resting across his knees. He didn't speak. Didn't shift. The silence gnawed at him like teeth just beneath the skin.
Froy and Aryvael lay curled on the padded floor, breathing steady. Peaceful.Too peaceful for a night like this.
Then the earth moved.
Not a tremor.A shudder.
The wheels jolted. The trees swayed despite the absence of wind. The mules whinnied in panic, slowing despite Selene's grip.
"Did you feel that?" Luma murmured.
Brumgar stood up halfway, eyes narrowing. "Something's wrong."
And then they saw it — above the treetops, blotting out stars.
A massive shadow.
Wings spread wide, scales black as tempered steel, eyes glowing like dying embers. The beast soared low, clipping the treetops as it passed overhead with a screech of wind and pressure.
A dragon.
Not one of majesty or grace — but one that flew with desperation.Its body bore fresh wounds, blood trailing like smoke behind it. It didn't even glance toward the wagon.
It was fleeing.
Selene froze. "From what…?"
She didn't have to wait long for the answer.
A sound — no, a presence — tore through the night like splitting mountains.
A roar. But not from the dragon.Something older.Deeper.
A shape descended from the sky, vast and terrible, landing with such force that the earth cracked beneath it. The wagon shook. The mules screamed and refused to move. Brumgar dropped to one knee, catching himself.
From the shattered trees emerged something that should not exist.
El'Kharuz.
Its form defied understanding — a serpentine titan of green-black flesh and bone, tendrils instead of eyes, a maw that opened sideways with rows of glistening teeth. It didn't roar. It didn't shriek.
It breathed.And the forest recoiled.
The dragon, sensing its death, spun midair and unleashed a blast of fire — white-hot, desperate, fierce.
The flame hit the beast directly.It vanished. Not from impact.But because El'Kharuz absorbed it — drank it in like water, as if it were no more threatening than candlelight.
Then it struck.
A single tendril shot outward, coiling around the dragon's neck.Another tore through its wing.In one motion, El'Kharuz pulled.
The dragon split apart like wet parchment.
Silence fell.Not peace.But paralysis.
Selene didn't breathe. Luma's ears lay flat against her skull. Brumgar clenched his axe tighter than ever before, though his arms didn't move.They couldn't move.
They simply watched — helpless, terrified — as the creature that had no name in their tongue consumed a dragon whole like a snake swallows a rabbit.
And in the wagon, behind canvas and wood and fading miracles...
Froy slept.Peaceful.Undisturbed.
Aryvael, too, lay still — her breathing slow, her face relaxed.Unaware.
But the nightmare was not finished.
El'Kharuz did not vanish into the trees.It turned.
Its faceless head tilted, tendrils twitching — tasting the air, sensing more than sight could ever reveal. Though blind, it navigated the world with a precision no eyes could match.
And it moved — slowly, deliberately — toward the wagon.
Each footfall made the forest quake anew.The wheels creaked.The mules froze, eyes wide with primal terror.Even the trees seemed to lean away.
Selene's fingers hovered near her blade, but she didn't draw it. She knew — they all knew — it would mean nothing.
Then, El'Kharuz reached out.
One clawed hand dug into the earth beside the wagon.To search.
With the reverence of something ancient, it scooped a clump of soil into its grasp — turned it as if remembering something lost.
Then came the tendrils.They slipped past the canvas as if it were nothing.
Inside, the children slept.And the tendril touched Froy.
Gently.Deliberately.
To the place where miracle still lingered.Where the divine flickered like breath.
Something pulsed.A thread of familiarity.
And El'Kharuz recognized it.
Not the boy.But what was inside him.
The shard.The scent.The trace of something older than stars.
Then it moved.It moved.
A blur of green-black terror — not like a beast.But like a mountain deciding to run.
Every step shook the world.El'Kharuz cleansed.
Selene snapped the reins."Move. Move!"
The wagon lurched forward.None of them looked back.
No one wanted to see what would happen if that thing turned around.And yet — it didn't.
El'Kharuz never returned.
It vanished into the woods.Into the dark.Into the world's unanswered questions.
None of them knew why it had spared them.None of them knew what had called it…Or what had guided its steps.
But in the heart of the wagon...Two children still slept.
And no one knew that all of this happened because a boy had whispered a miracle into the dark —wishing for luck, for safety, for an open road to Solmira.
The miracle had done its work.No monster would touch them.Not tonight.The wagon was completely safe.