CHAPTER 66
He vanished, swept away by his windstep, direction sharp and heart even sharper to Sorayael.
Meanwhile within the Solstice Grave...
Sorayael stood beneath the glowing stone archways of the inner chamber, her silver hair catching threads of strange golden light from floating crystals embedded in the ceiling.
The air shimmered faintly, heavy with magic so ancient it breathed.
Around her, elves with long braids etched in silver, dwarves whose skin gleamed with irondust, and tall ethereal beings that had no names left in the modern tongue all lingered.
They watched her, not with fear, but with reverence.
A soft-spoken elf woman approached, her tone melodic, older than mountains.
Sorayael tilted her head. "You keep saying her. Velthira. Who was she... truly? I only knew that she once fought the constellations above and I bear her will and authority, but who is she really?"
The elf did not answer at once. Instead, an older dwarf stepped forward, his deep voice rumbling like earth shifting.
A silence settled across the room like falling ash.
A horned fae added next, eyes glowing faintly, "She fought for us... for the broken and the cast away. She was not born of gods, she bent them."
Sorayael's golden eyes slightly widened. Her breath came quiet and low.
Beside her, the Grand Duke had remained composed, but his brows were furrowed.
This time, the elf woman spoke, her voice low and near-ceremonial.
The Grand Duke took a slow breath, as if the weight of history had just landed squarely on the girl beside him.
Then, a flicker passed through the dungeon-Deimon, cloaked by wind, appeared just beyond the archway.
'How did he entered?' Zerathiel asked himself.
His eyes met Sorayael's.
'Could it be...'
She blinked once, then turned fully toward him. "Reinhold?"
Deimon nodded grimly. "He was captured. The Emperor plans to summon both Constellations.. tonight."
The room darkened a little. Not from shadow, but from what now loomed ahead.
Sorayael didn't speak for a moment. Then her fingers curled tightly at her sides.
The moment Deimon's words settled in Sorayael's ears, her breath hitched, but only for a second. Resolves filled the silence that followed.
She turned toward the creatures who had stood in quiet reverence throughout her stay.
The Grand Duke gave her a knowing glance, already preparing to depart with her.
But before either of them could take a step, an elderly elf with braided white-gold hair stepped forward, her staff glowing faintly with twilight essence.
A young dwarf thumped his fist against his chest.
Another fae, tall and pale as mist, whispered with glowing eyes,
The Grand Duke blinked, slightly taken aback by their reverence-but said nothing.
An old seer spoke last, the voice soft and cracking like old wood,
Sorayael's gaze swept across the many faces-strange, wondrous, ancient. All watching her like she was their last hope... or their long-lost myth reborn.
She placed a hand over her chest and bowed deeply.
Then, the light cracked through the dungeon. Deimon's magic flared again, surrounding them in a wind that lifted dust and golden sparks.
The Grand Duke stepped beside Sorayael, his voice a low murmur.
With one final glance, they vanished.
............
The air in the east was thinner-cooler, and tinged with faint traces of mana drifting from ruined pillars buried in tangled roots and thorned vines.
Zarethian knelt beside a charred stone, his gloved hand brushing over the strange spiral engravings etched into it.
Ravelia stood behind him, arms crossed, her cloak swaying in the wind. "Tracking sigils say the seal's nearby. But something's... off. I feel like we're being led."
He glanced back at her with a lazy smirk. "So we're walking into a trap?"
She shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time."
With a flick of his wrist, Zarethian summoned a flickering edge of flame to his palm-controlled, steady. "Good. I've been dying to stretch."
They pressed on through the forest ruins. Crumbled pillars loomed like bones of a forgotten cathedral, and vines bloomed with faintly glowing flowers-sickly blue, pulsing with unstable mana.
A rustle echoed behind them. Then another.
Zarethian turned slightly, firelight casting shadows along his jaw. "Figures. We light a fire, and the bugs come out."
But his tone was calm-confident. Almost amused.
They moved forward as a team, instincts sharp.
Just ahead, nestled in the overgrown stonework of the temple's broken steps, lay a sealed sigil. It pulsed faintly-like a heartbeat in stone.
Ravelia crouched beside it, murmuring, "This is it."
Zarethian didn't reply at first. He was already turning, fire dancing on his fingers as more footsteps emerged from the ruins.
Rain sloshed at their boots as the marsh swallowed moonlight whole. Celene's hands hovered over the reflective surface, weaving threads of water magic in delicate, spiraling patterns.
Valen stood beside her, sword planted in the soil, the muddy winds pushing at his dark coat.
The ground shook faintly.
Valen stepped forward, his voice as steady as the sword at his side. "We've got company."
But before the murk could birth threats, Celene raised her arms, and the marsh obeyed-parting the water to reveal the sigil below, glowing faint and gold.
Valen gave a rare nod. "One down."
Kieran was already tossing mana stones into the array. "I'll blast it open."
Zacchaeus sighed, checking the alignment carefully. "No, idiot. You'll fry the whole seal-just give me a second-"
*BOOM!*
Dust erupted-but when it cleared, the seal shimmered, glowing steady.
Kieran shrugged. "Hey, it worked."
Zacchaeus glared. "You're a menace."
Kieran winked. "And you love me."
The sigil's defense shattered beneath their combined effort-Zarethian's flames searing a path, while Ravelia carved through shadows with ice-laced precision.
The seal flared bright, locking into place.
Zarethian exhaled, leaning his sword against his shoulder. "Well, that was mildly satisfying."
Ravelia grinned, brushing ash off her sleeve. "We make a good team."
The Ruins of Vaelhyr lay in eerie silence, vines creeping across fractured stone.
Karsen crouched near the seal, inspecting it with practice ease. "Looks dormant. No resistance so far."
Silas stood at a distance, arms folded, eyes unreadable. "Then we secure it."
Karsen nodded, placing the warding talisman into the seal's core. It pulsed once... then settled.
A perfect success.
But Silas didn't move.
Behind him, his shadow twisted slightly-longer than it should have. A faint glimmer shimmered in his eye-cold, distant, almost calculating.
He glanced at the seal.
.............
As the magical tremor settled, and the stars flared in an eerie rhythm, Sorayael stood just outside the sealed dungeon gates beside the Grand Duke. The prayers of the dungeon dwellers still lingered behind them.
Her golden eyes turned upward-toward the storm yet to come.
Dusk draped the forest in silver and shadow. The ruined pillars of Vaelhyr stood like broken sentinels, moss creeping over them like time reclaiming stone. A faint hum lingered in the air-magic, old and slumbering.
Karsen sheathed his blade with a satisfied huff. "Seal's holding up. Quiet for now."
Silas offered a faint smile. "Too quiet."
Karsen chuckled and patted his friend's shoulder. "I'll report back to Sorayael. Stay here and finish checking the outer glyphs?"
Silas nodded. "Go ahead."
Once Karsen was gone-his figure swallowed by the trees-Silas knelt before the sealed glyph, his eyes sharpening.
He didn't touch it right away.
Instead, he whispered something under his breath. A string of forgotten words in an unspoken tongue. The seal flickered. Then pulsed.
The earth beneath the sigil trembled.
Silas reached into his coat and retrieved a small black shard, sharp and humming with unnatural resonance. He pressed it into the center of the glyph.
Cracks spidered across the magical surface-slowly, deliberately. The seal didn't break completely... just enough. Enough for something to seep through.
It will break soon..
He stood up, eyes still fixed on the weakening seal.
He turned, the shard gone as quickly as it came. His expression blank. Measured. Almost.. sorrowful.