"After escaping the shadow beasts near Crownspire, the trio thought they had a moment's peace… until the Drakenshade emerged."
Tap... tap... tap...
Rain whispered against the stone and leaves. A cold melody swept across the forest clearing, each drop casting a silvery sheen on the world.
A dark silhouette sat motionless behind Aelric, Zevril, and Rynor—Drakenshade, cloaked in dread. The shadows danced, and in a blink—
Shhhk!
He vanished.
And then—Crack!—he appeared ahead of them, emerging from the crags like a phantom reborn.
The trio stepped from the shelter of the rock, their eyes narrowing. Their boots sunk slightly into the wet ground, facing the southwest, towards the eerie aura of the stranger.
Snap!
A sudden sound tore the air.
The world spun.
Then silence.
They found themselves in a forest glade, rain still falling but softer now. Their horses stood behind them, unnervingly still.
The stranger raised his hand and stretched it open, fingers forming a calm V-shape as if welcoming the sky. Rain traced down his fingertips.
Behind him stood Aelric, Zevril, and Rynor—silent and tense.
And then... change.
His hair shimmered—blue fading into a pale green, and his pupils shifted, like emerald moons under twilight.
He turned slowly, facing them, voice calm like midnight wind.
"I am Malrik Nocture... You may call me Malrik."
Aelric's eyes widened, voice low but alive with wonder.
"Zevril, did you see that? His hair just turned... green!"
Zevril groaned, clearly annoyed.
"Shut up, Aelric."
Rynor stepped forward, thunder lacing his form. Crackle! The air sparked with electricity, grounding into the wet soil.
"Stay behind me," Rynor growled. "One wrong move… and it's over."
His sword gleamed as he drew it, lightning curling around the blade like a living beast.
Malrik sighed, visibly disappointed.
"I have no intention of harming anyone. Put that sword away, boy."
His words weren't harsh—but heavy with something deeper. Trust? Exhaustion?
Aelric raised an eyebrow and said, sarcastically playful:
"Master Rynor, do you really think you can take on a guy who's literally teleporting and hasn't even tried to hurt us yet?"
He paused, grinned.
"Didn't you say 'one wrong move and it's all over'?"
Zevril nodded in agreement, serious this time.
"He's right, Master. He hasn't attacked."
Rynor clenched his jaw, but the logic landed. Slowly, he lowered his sword.
He reached into his pocket and revealed the Aqualis Ignis'ren, a mystical feather radiating faint divine light.
"This is what you want, right? Take it."
Malrik's gaze softened as he stared at the feather.
"I'm not here for that," he said. "I came investigating…"
The rain thickened. Without a word, Malrik lifted a hand and created a shimmering barrier dome, shielding them—and even the horses—from the downpour.
"Two days ago, I sensed an unknown divine energy in the Human Kingdom. It was fleeting—only seconds—but unmistakable."
He paced slightly.
"I sensed it again while crossing Crownspire. The energy… it came from the hall. The same hall you fled."
Rynor tensed.
"So... this feather?"
Malrik nodded, then hesitated.
"Yes. But…" he stepped closer, confused. "It's not her energy. I know Aqualis Ignis'ren's signature. This… this isn't hers."
A cold moment passed.
"Where did you find this?" he asked.
Rynor's eyes shook. (What should I do? Tell him the truth? No… I can't risk it. I can't endanger Aelric and Zevril. I don't trust him yet.)
"I was collecting minerals in the forest. Middle of nowhere. It just… appeared."
Malrik glanced at Aelric. His pupils shrank in surprise. (no elemental essence…)
Then he looked at Zevril. His expression darkened slightly. (This one's aura… it's twisted.)
He finally returned to Rynor.
"Where exactly?"
"Northeast. Just past the green ridge near the mountain base."
Malrik studied his face, then spoke with measured tone.
"Can I trust you?"
"Yes," Rynor answered without pause.
Malrik gave a nod.
"Then… I'll be seeing you."
He turned to leave, but Rynor called out.
"Don't you want the feather?"
Malrik gave a faint smile, eyes distant.
"You found it. It belongs to you now. Use it well."
Snap!
They vanished from the forest.
The rain eased as they reappeared near Valmorra, close to home. The world was quieter. The clouds began to part.
Far away, chaos ruled Crownspire Hall.
The building lay in ruins, people screaming for help, buried under stone and dust. Rescuers fought through debris.
King Thalorion stood amidst the destruction, eyes wide, panic drawn across his face.
"How… how can Black Dragons still exist?" he whispered, his royal flames extinguished. "Didn't we wipe them out?"
His memories surged—two days ago, the entire court fainted when a wave of divine energy passed through the kingdom.
"Was that… him?"
Suddenly—"Prince Drazhael!"—a shout from the crowd.
The king turned sharply, running through the smoke until he saw his son—unconscious, blood streaming from his eyes and mouth.
Thalorion knelt, heart racing. No heartbeat. The world blurred.
"Drazhael…" he whispered.
Then—
Thump.
A heartbeat. Weak… but present.
"Take him to the palace!" Thalorion shouted.
From a distance, Velmira watched from atop a broken stone wall, soaked in rain. Her gray hair swayed. A voice echoed in her head.
"Why serve humans?"
Malrik's voice.
Her teeth clenched. Her eyes brimmed with guilt.
Elsewhere, as the King leaned against the shattered throne, footsteps echoed.
A woman emerged from the smoke.
Elaris—his first daughter.
"So... what now, King?"
Thalorion froze. (Elaris?)
"It's been a long time," he said quietly.
"Too long," she answered, glancing around. "What happened here?"
Rescuers moved the fallen. One of the royal knights' helmets fell—revealing a commoner's face beneath.
"This… isn't a real knight," one whispered.
"Shh! Don't say anything. Cover it."
Elaris turned to her father, expression sharp.
"You didn't send the true Royal Knights, did you? You used Drazhael to mimic their presence."
Thalorion stammered. No words came.
Elaris scoffed, then looked toward Velmira.
"You trust strangers now more than your own people... how pathetic."
Then, she turned away. But not before saying:
"Take care of my little brother… and my little sister."
And she vanished into the fading rain.
Scene Shift
Evening approached.
On a rooftop in Valmorra, Aelric and Zevril sat watching the sunset. The sky glowed amber and violet.
Aelric held the Aqualis Ignis'ren, gazing at it in wonder.
A memory surfaced…
—Rynor handed him the feather.
"It's yours now. You can use magic."
"But... Master," Aelric said, stunned. "You found it. Why me? I've only annoyed you."
Zevril snorted.
"That's true. You are annoying."
"What?!" Aelric turned, offended.
"Relax," Zevril chuckled. "Calm down."
Rynor smiled softly.
"Take it. A gift… from your master."
Aelric's lips curled into a shy, joyful grin as he accepted it.
Zevril leaned over.
"Do I get a gift?"
"One day," Rynor smirked. "When the time comes."
Zevril nodded, satisfied. As he looked at Aelric's excited face, he felt… warm.
"Let me hold it!"
"Nooo! I just got it!"
The memory faded.
Now, under the fading sun, Zevril looked serious.
"Aelric. Let's grow stronger. Together."
Aelric nodded, gripping the feather tight.
"Yes. Together."
Closing Montage
Rynor rode through the crags with their horses, the sun dipping below the horizon.
Elaris stood at the edge of the kingdom, wind brushing her coat.
Velmira stood atop the Tower, her eyes silver in the dying light.
Drazhael lay in bed, bandaged, unmoving. Lyra sat beside him, holding his hand.
And in the forest...
Malrik stood tall, raindrops trailing down his cloak. Behind him, black dragon wings emerged—massive, ancient, and quiet.
With a single flap—Whooom!—he soared into the sky.
The sun glinted off his wings as he gazed down.
"One day," he whispered, voice heavy with fate,
"it will all end by the same hands that were meant to save it."