[10 years ago, in the northern canyons of Loc]
The mountain winds tugged at young Ori's tunic, sending loose strands of his golden hair whipping across his face as he stood near the edge of the cliff. He tried not to look down, but the jagged expanse of rocks below seemed to pull at his gaze, daring him to acknowledge the fall. Behind him, a low snort broke the silence. Helix, the gold and white griffin, lay sprawled across a nearby boulder, one wing tucked lazily against his side and his beak resting atop his talons. To any onlooker, the griffin might have seemed asleep, but Ori could see the subtle twitch of Helix's ears whenever his boots crunched too close to the ledge.
"Lazy beast," Ori muttered under his breath, glaring at Helix sprawled on the rock like a pampered cat. The griffin's ear twitched, but he didn't move, his demeanor overall uninterested. Ori had tried coaxing, yelling, even clapping his hands earlier, but the griffin hadn't so much as flicked his tail.
"You won't win his trust with insults," came a voice from behind him. "Besides…That lazy beast could drop you like shite from a bird if he doesn't respect you." It was Sir Girus, his tone as dry as the mountain air. He stood with arms crossed, watching Ori with the faint look of a man who'd seen this all before. "Griffins aren't pets, lad. They don't come when you whistle, and they sure as hell don't give a damn about your feelings."
Ori scowled, turning back toward him. "How am I supposed to get him to listen if he won't even look at me?"
"Simple." Girus shrugged one shoulder. "You act like someone worth looking at."
Ori's frustration boiled over. "That's not helpful…like at all."
"Neither is you whining at me like I'm the bird-cat's bloody handler," Girus shot back, unfazed. "You want my advice? Stop looking like you're about to piss yourself and do something worth his attention."
Ori blinked, stunned into silence.
Girus sighed, his expression softening slightly. "Look, lad. You'll inherit the Mantle one day, and when that happens, it'll feel like this: falling fast and moving at breakneck speeds. You think Helix'll listen to someone who second-guesses himself? Nah. He's a proud creature, that one. Same as you should be. Beasts like him don't follow orders—they follow courage—resolve."
Ori bit his lip, his eyes drifting to the ledge, then to the griffin's motionless form. Helix was still pretending to nap.
"What if he doesn't come?" Ori's voice was quieter now, the words nearly swallowed by the wind.
Girus stepped forward, gauntlets clinking as he laid a heavy hand on Ori's shoulder. "Then you'll meet the rocks, and I'll have very sad news for your father." He paused, then added with a smirk, "Not my preferred outcome, mind you. Helix has never seen battle. Your father had his own steed back then. Never bothered with training the damned bird-cat. So now it's up to you. And in order to do that, he must trust you to lead. Sometimes you gotta grip your wizzer and show'em you mean business."
Ori shot him an incredulous glare, wondering if he's even allowed to talk like that to a teen, but Girus's eyes had turned serious again. "Fear is a beast of its own, lad. If you turn away from it now, you'll keep turning. And eventually, impulse becomes instinct. Then you are a slave to it. Simple as that."
Ori turned back to the ledge, his heart pounding so loudly it filled his ears. Girus's words settled in his chest like stones, heavy but grounding. "Impulse becomes instinct." He became even more afraid of letting that happen. He retreated into silence, pondering how to escape that fate.
For a moment, Ori's feet felt frozen to the ground. The winds tugged at him, whispering warnings of what lay below. Then his father's voice echoed in his memory, as clear as if he were standing beside him: "Fear doesn't disappear, son. You meet it head-on, or it consumes you. Either way, it's coming."
Ori exhaled slowly, and something shifted in him. Without another word, he turned and began to walk back—away from the ledge.
Girus raised a brow but remained silent, watching him closely.
Helix cracked open an eye, peering at Ori from his perch. The griffin's ears flicked forward with curiosity.
Ori stopped suddenly, staring down at the ground as though in retreat. Then, suddenly, he moved. His feet struck the earth in a quick, rhythmic sprint, boots pounding like a drumbeat of resolve. Each step carried him faster and harder toward the ledge.
Girus's lips quirked into the faintest of smiles.
Helix's head snapped up.
Ori didn't falter as he reached the edge. With one final burst of strength, he pushed off the stone and leapt, soaring into the open air with arms spread wide and a wild yell ripping from his chest.
"Helix…To me!"
The griffin immediately stood on all four legs. With an urgent squawk, he launched from the rock in an explosion of feathers and beating wings. Helix's massive form dove into the wind, his screech piercing the air as he tucked his wings to chase after Ori. Ori felt the rush of gravity pulling him down, but he didn't look away. He kept his eyes locked on Helix, trusting him, leading him.
The griffin reached him just before the rocks came too close, wings flaring as he swooped beneath Ori. With a smooth, powerful motion, Helix caught him on his back. Ori's hands grasped at the griffin's thick feathers, holding on as Helix surged upward, the wind roaring in his ears as they shot into the sky.
Ori laughed in disbelief, a sound carried away by the wind as they streaked through the canyons. Helix's wings beat powerfully beneath him, and for the first time, Ori felt the rhythm of the flight, the sheer harmony of movement between them. He leaned forward slightly, and Helix responded, weaving effortlessly between the cliffs.
From the ledge, Sir Girus watched them disappear into the sky, his expression calm but satisfied. "That's the way, lad," he murmured.
High above, Ori clung to Helix's back, his chest still heaving but his heart steady. The fear was gone, replaced by something sharper—something he hadn't felt before. It wasn't just relief. It was connection.
"Good boy, Helix," Ori said softly, as the griffin's wings carried them higher still. For the first time, the beast responded, letting out a low, approving rumble as they soared together, as one.
[Present day: Queen Elira's ship]
Ori stood at the ship's railing, the morning sun painting the ocean in shimmering golds and blues. The breeze was cool, the scent of salt and seaweed crisp in the air. For a moment, he let himself feel calm—just the steady roll of the ship, the endless expanse of water, and the faint calls of gulls in the distance.
Footsteps behind him pulled him from his thoughts. He glanced over his shoulder to see Rylan approaching, his usual youthful energy tempered by something more subdued.
"You're up," Rylan said, offering a small smile as he leaned against the railing beside Ori. "How're you feeling?"
Ori gave a noncommittal shrug. "Still here."
"That's a start," Rylan said, his tone light but careful. He glanced at Ori, then back out to the sea. "Last night was… something. You went down like a dropped anchor, and for a second there, I thought we'd lost you."
Ori sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. About that…"
"What happened?" Rylan pressed, his voice quieter now. "You looked… not yourself."
Ori hesitated, the words feeling heavy in his throat. "My Mantle," he finally said. "It's—changed."
Rylan straightened, his brow furrowing. "Changed how?"
"It was dormant up until last night," Ori explained, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "Before that, I thought it was broken. Or maybe it had just… lost its power. Then I got into that scrap in the woods, and…" He trailed off, shaking his head.
"And what?" Rylan asked.
Ori exhaled slowly. "Now it talks to me. Shows me strange symbols—symbols I don't understand. It keeps telling me my power is… limited. Like there's something holding it back."
Rylan was quiet for a moment, absorbing the words. "Limited how? Like, you can't use it fully?"
"Something like that," Ori said. "It's hard to explain. It's like there's a wall between me and what I'm supposed to be able to do. And when I try to push past it—" He gestured vaguely with his hand. "—nothing. Or worse, it backfires."
Rylan nodded slowly. "Sounds like you need some practice."
Ori snorted softly. "Practice? I don't even know what I'm dealing with."
"All the more reason to figure it out," Rylan said. "Look, I know I'm not exactly the poster boy for Mantle mastery, but maybe we can work on it together. Sparring, training—something. At the very least, you'll have someone to hit."
Ori allowed himself a faint smirk. "I'll think about it."
Rylan grinned, satisfied with the small victory. Before he could push further, a shout rang out from below deck.
"Rylan! Ori!"
They both turned to see Kirin standing at the base of the stairs, her arms crossed and her expression as sharp as ever. "Queen Elira's waiting. Don't keep her."
"Right," Rylan said, pushing off the railing with a sigh. He shot Ori a quick glance. "Looks like duty calls."
Ori followed him down the stairs, the weight of the upcoming discussion settling on his shoulders. The momentary peace of the upper deck was gone, replaced by the grim reality of what lay ahead.
The cabin was cramped but functional, its centerpiece a table covered in maps and papers. A single lantern swung gently from the ceiling, casting a warm, flickering light. Elira sat at the head of the table, her sharp features illuminated in the glow. Kirin stood to her right, as still and unreadable as ever.
"You're late," Elira said without looking up, her voice clipped.
Ori and Rylan entered, taking the seats opposite her. Rylan folded his hands on the table, trying to look serious, while Ori simply leaned back, his arms crossed.
Elira gestured to the map in front of her. "This is Verdalis," she began, her tone brisk. "The attack wasn't random. The dark army—whoever they are—knew exactly where we were. That wasn't a coincidence."
"They're trying to stop us from gaining allies," Kirin added, her voice calm but firm.
"And they're good at it," Elira said, her gaze cutting to Ori. "Which brings us to you."
Ori frowned. "Me?"
"You're the only one here who's faced them directly and lived to tell the tale," Elira said. "We need to know what we're dealing with. Who are they? What are they?"
Ori hesitated. He looked down at the table, his mind drifting back to that night. "They're… not human," he said finally. "At least, not anymore. They're stronger than anything I've ever fought. They move like they're one mind—no hesitation, no mistakes."
"Even with your Mantle?" Kirin asked, her tone neutral but probing.
Ori's jaw tightened. "Even with my Mantle. At full strength, I couldn't stop them. I tried, and I failed—spectacularly." His voice dropped slightly. "If my father hadn't…" He trailed off, the memory cutting too deep.
Elira's gaze didn't soften, but there was a flicker of understanding in her eyes. "So, you're saying they're unbeatable."
"I'm saying I wasn't strong enough to beat them," Ori corrected. "But they can be stopped. I just don't know how yet."
Elira leaned back, steepling her fingers. "Then we need to figure it out. Quickly. Because if they're trying this hard to stop us, it means we're closer to something they don't want us to find."
"And that's supposed to be comforting?" Rylan muttered, earning a sharp look from Kirin.
Ori leaned forward, his eyes meeting Elira's. "If we're going to fight them—and win—we're going to need more than just Mantles. We're going to need an army."
The room grew quiet. Elira fell into deep though, along with Kirin who stood behind her. Rylan looked around—noticing the grim looks on everyone's faces. In an attempt to escape the awkward silence, he spoke. "So then…we should seek more allies. Simple right? I thought that was the plan."
"But with them tracking us," Elira replied, taking deep breaths. "It makes it a lot harder now. We need to throw them off the trail. They likely know we've mad contact with Ori, given that their assassins never made it back."
"Or they were trying to stall us." Ori chimed in, rubbing his scruffy chin.
This gave Elira pause. She thought for a moment, dread slowly creeping into her face. "You don't think…"
"They're planning to hit somewhere else while we're away?" Ori cut in. "Possibly. We need to make sure our—your homes are safe before we make anymore moves. Who's kingdom is the closest?"
Rylan raised his hand slowly. "That would be mine. The kingdom of Arcaia."
"He's right. It should be about a day's journey from where we are now." Kirin cut in.
Ori thought for a moment longer. Then I suggest we stop there first. See what's out of place—if anything. If we find nothing, we continue on as planned."
Elira interlocked her fingers and took a deep breath. "That sounds as good a plan as any given how little we know. We set course for Arcaia then. We should arrive by tomorrow morning."
"This is great. Lord Alric will surely inform us of anything strange or out of the ordinary." Rylan said excitedly.
"Lord Alric?" Ori asked.
"He was my father's trusted advisor, and my mentor. He's acting as King Regent until I'm of age. Most people in my kingdom don't agree with me inheriting my father's grimoire; especially since I can't use magic on my own. But Alric has always been a supportive ally and friend." Rylan answered with an enthusiastic smile.
"Good to know." Ori replied, soaking in the new information.
Soon the meeting was over. They all had their eyes set on Arcaia, each taking the details of the meeting back to their rooms.
[Later that night]
Ori sat on the small cot in his cabin, elbows resting on his knees, eyes fixed on the strange glyphs flickering in his vision. They hovered in the air before him—sometimes shifting, sometimes vanishing entirely—etched into his mind like whispers from something ancient. He reached out instinctively, as if touching them would grant him clarity, but his fingers passed through nothing.
"What are you?" he murmured under his breath, though he wasn't sure if he was speaking to himself or to the Mantle.
"You already know," came the voice in his head. It wasn't like speaking with another person—it was deeper, woven into the very core of his being. "You are incomplete. The power you seek is locked away, just beyond your reach."
Ori sighed, rubbing his temple. "Yeah, you keep saying that. Maybe try explaining it in words that make sense."
"It is not my place to explain. Only to reveal."
A knock at the door cut through his concentration. Before he could respond, the door creaked open, and Elira stepped inside, carrying a cup and a knife in one hand, a warm towel draped over her shoulder. She stopped just inside, amusement flickering across her face as she took in his distracted, unfocused expression.
"Talking to yourself again?" she teased, smirking. "I'm starting to worry about you."
Ori huffed, leaning back against the wall. "Seriously? You know I've got this thing in my head now."
Elira chuckled, shutting the door behind her without responding. Instead, she gestured toward the chair in his room. "Sit."
Ori raised a brow. "And if I refuse?"
She tilted her head, lifting the knife slightly. "Then I cut it all off while you sleep."
He sighed dramatically but sat down nonetheless.
Then, golden locks fall to the floor.
Elira worked with steady hands, her expression calm, almost thoughtful, as she cut Ori's hair, shaping it back into something fitting of a king. They sat in silence, the rhythmic scrape of the blade against his jaw filling the space between them. She perched on the table behind him, her legs bracketing his shoulders, guiding his head as she trimmed away the rough edges of his overgrown stubble.
Ori exhaled through his nose, watching the strands drift to the floor before finally speaking. "So—are you going to tell me why you're here?"
Elira smiled, eyes still focused on her work. "Because we can't have you looking like a beastman when we meet the King Regent. You are still a king yourself, if you recall. You might not care much, but you still have to look the part."
Ori chuckled, waiting for her to finish a long, careful swipe down his jaw before replying. "It's true… I hadn't thought about how I looked in some time." He tilted his head slightly. "But you're not here just because you disapprove of my whiskers. So out with it—and speak plainly, please. My mind is already a jumbled mess."
Elira paused for a second before continuing her work. She was silent long enough that Ori almost thought she wouldn't answer. Then, she leaned his head back into her lap, angling the blade under his chin.
"I've been thinking," she said at last, her voice softer than before. "About the things I said to you back at the farm. I didn't realize until our meeting earlier, but I… may have underestimated the gravity of everything you've been through."
Ori watched her carefully, listening.
Elira took a slow breath. "It was cruel—the way I cut into you like that. That's not the first impression I wanted to make. Especially for someone seeking an ally. I'm… sorry—if my words were unfeeling. That's not who I am."
Ori mulled over her words as she continued shaving his neck. He glanced up at her, reading her face. She meant it.
"Your words were… harsh," he admitted, "but also true. I was a shell of myself. And I don't blame you for pointing that out. You were frustrated, running out of options. On top of dealing with my stubbornness. It's only natural to react how you did."
Elira sighed, a hint of relief in her expression.
She wiped away the last traces of shaving cream with the warm towel, inspecting her work before tilting his head slightly. "There. Now you look like a true king again."
Ori held up the small hand mirror from the table, turning his face slightly to examine his features. His jawline was sharp again, his hair no longer an unruly mess. He ran a hand through the short strands, nodding. "You cut a mean jawline—that's for sure."
Setting the mirror down, he turned to face Elira fully. "For what it's worth… I admire the courage it takes to tell the truth, especially when it hurts. And from now on, I intend to act like a true king as well. No more self-doubt or drowning in self-loathing." He smirked. "And I have you all to thank for that."
Elira's lips quirked into a small smile.
Ori leaned back slightly. "And should it ever happen again—I want you to do the same thing and kick me right in the ego."
Elira chuckled, shaking her head. "We have a deal."
She stood and crossed the cabin, pulling a bottle from the cabinet. She poured two drinks, then turned, holding up a glass.
"To kicking stubborn fools in the ego."
Ori grinned, clinking his glass against hers.
Chapter End—