"Sorry about how we left things last time. Let's start over, shall we?" he asks, his voice carrying a hint of unease. "If yes, then we can begin with your name, King…" He deliberately drags out the word King, hoping the Being now standing before him would finish it.
"Veyrath" he says in return
"Oh, Vein… rat—sorry, Veyrath, I assume," he stammers. "I'm ready," he says with a determine tone.
"Since thou hast agree to follow me unto mine own realm, I shall bear thee thither. Yet the outcome...,I cannot vow it shall be fair."
"Are you trying to talk me out now? Look dude I'm helping you out of my own will, even after you cost me my job. Honestly, the thought of punching you the moment you appear crossed my mind, but then again, you're… well, you." he says quickly, his tone sharp with annoyance.
"I withhold no truth from thee"
"The first lesson you must learn here in my world is: never discourage the one who choose to help you. Remember it well, write it down!."
An awkward silence lingers between them, until Will finally breaks it.
"I mean, if it won't cost me my life, then what more could I lose?" Will says, his tone shape with seriousness and determination.
With the Aetherfang still clutched in Will's grasp, Veyrath steps toward him, lifting his own hand to place upon Will's head and draw him into his realm. But before the touch could land, Will swiftly retreats to his bed and snatch up his phone.
"For security reasons," Will mutters, waving the phone in mid air. Veyrath only stare at him in confusion, then proceeds to place his hand upon him. In an instant, the two disappear.
They appeared back in Veyrath's Realm
The realm lay in ruins. The glowing rivers had dimmed, and the crystal forests stood broken and charred. Villages of stone and wood were reduced to hollow shells, their azure flames long gone. The beastlike villagers, once proud and graceful, now wandered wounded or lay fallen. A land once alive with magic and majesty had become a scarred battlefield, heavy with silence.
Will takes a moment to scan the environment he's in, with wide-eye awe and surprise, curiosity written all over him. for never before has he seen anything like it.
"Wow… this is amazing," Will says out loud, his head still turning in wonder, his jaw hanging in disbelief.
Veyrath glare at Will as though he had lost his mind. His realm lay in ruins, scarred by the rival war, and yet Will stood there marveling at its remains.
Will quickly compose himself the moment he catches sight of Veyrath's unfriendly gaze.
They begin with their walk toward the villagers, who have not yet notice their presence. But soon, a few among them catches sight of Veyrath, and upon recognizing him as their king, they rush toward him.
They kneel before Veyrath in reverence, offering their respect to their king. Yet their gaze lingers on Will, wide with shock and wonder, as though struggling to comprehend what he is. Some, driven by curiosity, even begin to sniff at him.
"Having fun there?" Will says, raising both hands above his head as the sound of sniffing echoes in his ears.
They quickly step away from Will as Veyrath begin to make his way toward the outskirt of the village. Without hesitation, they follow after him, leaving Will behind.
Will quickens his pace until he catch up with them, then slows down his pace behind, his head shifting from side to side, eyes wandering over every unfamiliar sight he has never witness before in his life.
As they press forward, the villagers bow in respect. Everyone who catches sight of Veyrath immediately falls in behind him, shock and wonder etches across their faces. They had long awaited the return of their king, and now they follow, gazing at him as though he were someone lost and at last found.
The crowd grew larger behind Will, their footsteps crunching over dead, dried leaves. Half-burnt trees stands all around, thin trails of smoke still rising from their charr remains. The path stretches ahead, leading them straight toward their yet-unreach destination.
After a moment of hush whispers and silent footsteps, they arrive before what appears to be King Veyrath's throne.
The throne craft from great curve timbers, their forms shape like a colossal chair.
Towering trees stands adjoin around it, their trunks interwoven to form natural walls that enclose the chamber.
Yet it's clear these were not born of nature's hand alone but of mystery magic, each bark etch faintly with runes that pulse with a quiet glow. Their vast leaves arch overhead, interlacing into a grand covering like a roof that filtering the sunlight into soft golden beams, casting the space in an otherworldly radiance.
The throne itself sits upon a dais of polish stone, its surface veins with shimmering silver that trace patterns like flowing rivers. Vines crept along its sides, blossoming with flowers that never wilted, their fragrance mingling with the cool air of the hall. It's less a seat of wood and stone and more a living crown of the forest, a symbol of dominion both regal and primal, befitting the throne of King Veyrath.
Veyrath advances to his throne and sits himself, facing the gathered crowd who now stand in silence, awaiting his words. Among them, was Will, his eyes fix intently upon him.
At that moment, the crowd part in two, giving way for their Oracle. He move slowly, his steps burden by age, hands wrinkled and eyes veiled, yet he walks unerringly as though he is being guide by unseen sight. With the aid of a twisted wooden staff, he walks his way steadily toward King Veyrath.
"What beholdest thou?" Veyrath speaks to the Oracle, who's yet draw nigh.
And just then, amidst the crowd, the Aetherfang slip from Will's grasp. Before the thought of retrieving it sweeps his mind, he notice Veyrath and the Oracle speaking in a tongue unknown to him. Yet, the moment he reclaims the Aetherfang, realization strikes, indeed something within him has changed. The Aetherfang has not only alters him, but has also granted him the understanding of ancient, forgotten tongue.
The Oracle approaches Veyrath, climbing each wooden structure that rose like carved steps, moving carefully until at last he stands before him.
"He place his left hand upon Veyrath's head, and with his staff hold firmly in the other, he begin to chant an incantation."
INCANTATION
SPELL>>Oculus of fate
"By the veils between the worlds, I lift away the hidden shroud. Through streams of shadow and silver flame, let the distant realms be shown. Reveal the truth, O secret tide, and open the path where fate awaits."
And in that moment, Veyrath and Will is thrust back into Will's world in spirit form, though their bodies remain within Veyrath's realm. Together they beholds a harrowing vision: buildings reduce to rubble, cars overturn, and fire consuming what was left of the city. It's a scene of utter ruin, as though a great war just take place, yet no enemy or cause can be seen. People scatter in terror, some running with desperate cries, others lying injured on the ground, struggling for their lives.
As Will turns, fear tightening his chest, his eyes falls upon a being even more terrifying than Veyrath. Panic surge through him, and in desperation he shatters the vision that binds them. In an instant, the link breaks, and both is pull back into their bodies within Veyrath's realm.
"What's that!?" Will screams, his eyes wide with fear at the sight of what he has just witnessed.
"I fear your world is under siege… by my brother," Veyrath says, his eyes resting on Will with a sorrowful pity.
"They're innocent! My people are innocent!" Will cries in an angry, hurry tone, his restlessness driving him to step toward Veyrath. The villagers moves as if to restrain him, but Veyrath raise his hand above the air, signaling them to hold their peace.
"I may aid in his defeat, yet only if thou wilt surrender the Aetherfang," Veyrath speaks once more.
Will screams, "To hell with that!" In a surge of defiance, he hurls the Aetherfang with all his strength towards Veyrath. Yet the Aetherfang defies his will, rebounding with violent force and slamming back into his grasp. The sheer impact sent a shockwave rippling through the square, knocking the gathered crowd off their feet.
The crowd, upon witnessing the impact, immediately rise, assuming defensive stance preparing to confront Will.
"The only way for you to reclaim the Aetherfang is through the death of its current bearer. Only then shall you wield it again, for you remain the one to whom it rightfully belongs," said the Oracle, his eyes fix upon Veyrath. And so both the Oracle and Veyrath turn their gaze upon Will. The crowd, firm in their defense, stirr uneasily at the Oracle's words, awaiting for their king's command to strike.
Will turn to face the crowd behind him, then shift his gaze back at Veyrath and the Oracle. With a deep exhale, he tighten his grip on the Aetherfang.