9 - Confrontation #2
“Because your father does not seek war, Aethros. He seeks to achieve the Primordial Convergence, a series of profound transformations, a readjustment of the laws of life…”
“The priests say it’s a divine elevation…” murmured the young dragon as he burrowed deeper under his sheets.
“The most rigorous alchemists reject that interpretation,” she replied, kissing his forehead.
“But one thing is certain: those who have come close to achieving it have left irreversible marks on the history of the world. And whoever succeeds in triggering this Convergence may hold the future of all living things in their hands.”
The army instinctively retreated. The ranks wavered, then broke under the spell’s pressure.
Phineas tried to reach the creature, seeking to blacken its heart, but the phoenix ignored him.
With a sweeping flap of its wings, it avoided Cassian without touching him, seemingly indifferent to his presence.
At Cassian’s command, the griffin soared higher.
In the distance, they could be seen rising toward a shapeless mass of dark clouds, dominated by the colossal silhouette of the phoenix.
Cassian quickly plunged his hand into one of his pockets and pulled out a handful of fine black powder. With a sharp motion, he flung it before him in a billowing cloud.
At that very moment, a glowing red light burst from his solar plexus.
Snapping his fingers, Cassian projected his energy into the wake of the powder, which burst into flames instantly, forming a circle of fire suspended in the air.
Without wasting a single second, he plunged his hands into the heart of the blaze and spread his arms wide, mimicking the motion of drawing a bow.
Magic and matter transmuted in a flash: the burning dust condensed, solidifying under the force of his will. Between his clenched palms appeared a flaming bow and a fiery arrow aimed at the phoenix.
Without a hint of hesitation, he released that arrow.
A rumble echoed through the air as it struck the creature summoned by Tariel, without harming it—quite the opposite.
“Excedo Carnem,” Cassian declared in a firm, commanding tone.
A shockwave rippled through the atmosphere, causing the earth itself to tremble. The phoenix, imbued with the dragon’s magic, underwent a metamorphosis. Before the prince and his army’s stunned eyes, the bird changed shape.
It took the shape.
The nightmare of the Four Kingdoms’ shape.
The castle bells rang out in the distance as the army rushed to the castle ramparts. In the thick mist, the fiery dragon was unstoppable, setting everything in its path ablaze and claiming the lives of bystanders and enemies alike.
That day marked the first innocent casualties at the elf’s hands, and Cassian was all too aware of it.
Cassian, heading in the opposite direction, let the griffin land as he spotted Tariel on the scorched earth of Morgraves. Weakened by the far too great amount of energy he had expended, he staggered toward him, wrapping his arms around the elf’s frail body.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, feeling the younger man’s distress in his heart as if it were his own.
Tariel
He didn’t even have time to admire his creation taking shape before the news about the mercenary hit him like a sledgehammer: a dark mage.
Of course. What else, honestly? A pacifist druid coming to negotiate around a campfire? The elf pouted.
And as if that weren’t enough, Cassian, in all his self-proclaimed wisdom, had once again decided for him.
Flee. Without Cassian.
Again.
Anger rose instantly, sharp and burning, and a familiar headache began to throb behind his temples as his thoughts raced.
Fine. A dark mage. Think, Tariel. Then again, it was hard to think when his mount seemed determined to take Tariel in the opposite direction of the battlefield, completely ignoring his master as it followed a bird at an unreasonable speed.
Radiant magic? Possible, sure. But Tariel was neither a cleric nor a paladin and improvising in that realm—despite her elite level of magic—was closer to suicide than strategy.
The elf had his back against the wall.
His mount was racing straight ahead, guided by Cassian’s damned bird—it was impossible to turn it around, let alone stop it, and that mere thought added to his frustration. He hated being deprived of his choices, especially when he was perfectly capable of taking responsibility for them.
But Cassian had forgotten one thing—or rather, underestimated something that Tariel mastered better than anyone else: familiars.
With a triumphant smile on his lips, Tariel summoned a Sifrelin: a tiny, fairy-like creature with translucent wings that fed on fairy dust. It was nearly invisible to the naked eye, intelligent, and silent. Perfect for intelligence gathering.
After whispering his instructions to the little creature, it darted off in the opposite direction, tasked with finding Cassian. The Sifrelin flew swiftly and silently, then slipped under the mercenary’s collar and clung there without a sound.
These creatures’ true efficiency lay in their lack of magical essence: aside from absorbing dust, they emitted nothing—no vibrations, no signature, just an innocuous presence… Just another fly in the crowd.
Which suited Tariel perfectly. What didn’t suit him, however, was the distance stretching between them.
He grumbled inwardly, cursing Cassian under his nonexistent mustache while keeping his mind anchored in the familiar bond. At the slightest sign of danger, he would recall the creature. But something—intuition, experience, or sheer stubbornness—told him the plan would hold.
He only had to wait and hope that the mercenary would return to him in one piece—which, honestly, was becoming a habit that was as worrisome as it was annoying.
Tariel rode at a hasty pace, his heart beating in time with the hooves striking the ground hardened by old ashes—silent remnants of the Morgrave lands. He was still brooding, inwardly far from charitable toward the mercenary, when an ethereal voice suddenly echoed in his mind.
Cassian’s voice.
Begging for his help.
Huh?
By the stars, how on earth was this man doing that? And since when, exactly, was he able to do that sort of thing? Tariel had a whole list of questions he’d be happy to ask Cassian when he returned—because he would return—but for now, only one thing mattered.