*KKYYYRRRAAANNN*

With a loud half screech half roar a scaled beast with colorations matching the dark deep blue of the night sky pulled in its wings, pitching its nose downwards, as it plummeted from the sky. It was ten meters long, with large spikes on its back and thick scales covering its entire body. Two large leathery wings were seen on either side of it, propelling it through the air. It was a creature commonly known as a Wyvern, a breed of lower dragon, highly prized for its intelligence and domestication. This particular Wyvern was smaller than normal breeds, being faster and lighter. It was specialized for speed and agility over durability and strength like the war Wyverns that saw use on the front lines in conjunction with royal knights to form the airborne cavalry.

These smaller Wyverns were used for a wide variety of things, from personal transport to messaging services, as well as seeing extensive use in the military intelligence fields as an early warning detection system or in various forms of espionage.

Currently however, this Wyvern was surrounded by several other Wyverns of the same breed, each of varying colors and patterns. Atop each of these Wyverns was a small figure of a person, sitting in a leather saddle positioned in between the spikes on their backs. On the light leather armor of the riders, and the thin leather of the saddles various emblems and flags could be seen, depicting who those Wyverns and riders belonged to.

The blue Wyvern, who’s symbol was a withered red tree, dove away from the group, gaining speed as it plummeted towards the quickly encroaching treeline.

As soon as it pulled away from the group enough, it spread its wings and used its newfound acceleration to skim along the treetops and take the lead among the group, slowly climbing back up to where the rest of them flew, tightly grouped in their quest for speed. As it flew upwards, its lead dwindled to only a few meters, and all of those behind it were trying desperately to catch up to the midnight blue Wyvern.

Gathered above the proceeding race, atop a large rock spire that stood out amongst the endless seas of forest, several shaded booths had been built, and today many of them were occupied by groups of people.

“Always with the theatrics…”

An old yet noble voice rang out from one the foremost booths, positioned right on the edge of the spire, closest towards the group of Wyverns. Its origin was an old man, sitting in a well cushioned seat, watching the spectacle with critical eyes. He was dressed in a long white robe, with a chain dangling from his neck denoting his rank. From that chain, under the medal that showed his rank was a small medallion, peeking out from the side. On that medallion was the same symbol that the rider of the blue Wyvern had, a withered red tree.

One of his hands was resting on his knee, while the other one loosely clenched a tall staff that appeared to almost be floating within his grasp, its end never truly touching the floor despite the weak grip that the old man was using. At the top of the staff was a bright blue crystal the size of a fist, and the wood of the staff seemed to have grown around the crystal, encompassing it in small wooden lines as if the crystal was a child in a mother's womb.

His hair was white, his face was wrinkled, yet it hardly made him look weak or feeble. He had crows feet on the sides of his eyes, and smile lines were visible if you looked at his face close enough. His brow was wrinkled, and he had a long gray beard, almost to the point of reaching his solar plexus, that gave him the air of a respected elder. He was the only one seated in the private booth, as all others were standing.

To his left was a dark skinned woman, appearing to be in her thirties. She was dressed differently than he was, wearing ceremonial attire for nobles instead of the robes of a magus. From her neck there hung no chain or symbol, instead there was only a faded and scarred strip, coiling around her throat. On her arms as well, faint white lines could be seen on her various parts of revealed skin, on particularly large one on the back of both of her hands, circular shaped on both the palm and the back, evidence that something had been pushed through it viciously. These marks were remnants of times long past spent in sorrow and slavery, their scars failing to fade despite the years and years she had spent away from the dungeons of foul slavers.

She was tall and thin, her skin was colored like dirt, and if someone were uninformed or if her skin wasn’t so smoothly coated in a single consistent color,pure and unblemished, one might assume she was just really dirty and had a need for a bath to wash off the grit and grime of whatever it was she was doing.

Her clothing was tight, revealing a body devoid of fat, yet packed full of subtle muscle, every inch of her body had been prepared and trained thoroughly for use in combat. Yet perhaps it was natural for her body type or perhaps a trait of her differing species from the others in the tent, or perhaps it was just because she was naturally beautiful in a way most women could never be. The muscled body showed no form of manliness, infact the lack of fat and the light layer of tense muscle beneath the skin only added to her femininity.

Her face was long and narrow, depicting her lineage as clear as day, with her slightly sloped back head and short and narrow ears, like serrated daggers, hidden away behind her pure black hair. They contrasted with her appearance as a normal person, being the only thing strange about her, other than her purple eyes and short fangs that could sometimes be glimpsed in her front row of teeth when she smiled or spoke as well as her dark skin. She might look human, but in reality she was something most of the humans shunned and despised, a dark elf.

Those fangs were visible as she leaned towards the ear of the old man with a gentle smile on her face. She bent her body over, and a few of the men in the room stared at her revealed figure and plump ass with poorly covered eyes of lust and desire. She disregarded the eyes of all others in the room, they mattered not to her.

“Why not let him play a bit? The prince needs a worthy opponent and who is to actually contest him but your son Father?”

He turned his head away from the festivities for a moment, looking at her face as a gentle smile appeared on his. His hand separated from his staff, leaving it floating in the air by some strange force.

“ I guess you are correct Syndra, but the prince is likely to win anyway. My son may have the capability to outperform him, but he possesses the intelligence to not come in first. To deny the prince a win, regardless of how well he performed, would be idiotic.”

His hand stroked her head gently, causing her ears to twitch with delight. He gave a tired sigh, his hand falling from her head as he repositioned himself in his heavily cushioned chair, groaning with the effort that he had to expend.

“Well, idiotic or not, as long as SOMETHING happens, it will be worth the trip.”

The dark elf behind him leaned forward, her hand gently resting on his shoulder as she looked at him with caring eyes. She smiled again, as she leaned forwards, placing her chin on his other shoulder before speaking in a soft voice, only loud enough for the two of them to hear.

“Something wrong father?”

Her father gave a sigh once more, his eyes turning back towards the Wyvern race to watch his son lose the first place position that was rightfully his because of politics. He tapped his staff on the ground, and instantly a gentle wall of wind encompassed to duo, separating them from the prying ears of the onlookers. Each one was sent to the man by some great house to serve him in his retirement, and each one was loyal only to the house that sent them, always keeping an eye on his activities, always reporting in what he was doing, always near him, watching, waiting, observing. It infuriated him, but he could do nothing about it.

“My life in retirement has been so dull, so boring… Long past are the days of my adventures Syndra… Sometimes I wish SOMETHING would happen…”

She giggled, her body swinging around towards the side of his chair as she positioned herself on its arm, leaning her body into his while making sure that she did not crush the old man with her weight.

“Is it really that bad? To live out our days in peace and quiet? Do you strive for the days of adventure and danger once more? To travel the world like we did in the old days, all those years ago.”

There was a silence between the two of them. They both knew the answer to the question, and why wouldn’t they. Syndra had been with the man for too many years for her to keep track of, most of her life had been spent by his side, and his by hers. They were closer than blood related people, despite the lack of a link between them.

“I had a Wyvern once, a female by the name of Kyuronax. Wonderful beast. She wasn’t small and weak like these, she was strong, a war Wyvern. Capable of holding her own against juvenile dragons... God, she saved my life more times then I can remember…

The best pet that I ever owned. I raised her from an egg all the way to adulthood. And then I lost her in-”

His voice was cut off by her lips, sealing his mouth with her own. She quickly released them, her head turning back towards the race so as to not let the onlookers know of her actions.

“I know Father… I was there… She saved us, our small party of five, drawing the great basilisk away from our party and fighting it along. It’s a shame, she was close to morphing as well, dying so pitifully while so close to overcoming her natural hurdles. Do you blame yourself? Is that why you never took another one?”

He laughed, an uncharacteristic thing for him. It’s not like he doesn’t laugh, it's that he only ever does it with people he truly cares about. His full blown laugh calmed down after a few seconds, turning into a light chuckle as his arm circled her waist and drew her into his body.

“Have I never told you? I tried. I tried 3 other times… It's an odd thing, there was no possible way for her to survive that fight, a basilisk outranks a Wyvern, even a war Wyvern. She is dead… Yet no other beast will contract with me. I am powerful enough to make them submit, but when I try to contract them, it always backfires and the beast runs away, scared shitless by her residual mana in my body.”

Syndra had never heard of this before, or if she had the information had been lost in her memories, overwritten by days upon days of meaningless things, memorized for no greater purpose but to give her life meaning.

“Oh really? Why hasn’t it dissipated? That must have happened over a hundred and thirty years ago by now? Her mana wasn’t strong enough at the time to leave a trace that would still be effective, right?”

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Her voice showed slight bits of concern, but overwhelmingly it was curiosity.

“Oh yes, I am baffled by it as well. Something even more peculiar about it, when I meditate and enter into the spirit realm, I can still vaguely sense her mana. It flows into me, stronger and stronger each time. Honestly, if I didn’t know that it was impossible, I would say she was still alive.”

His words caught her off guard, and instantly she pulled her head from where it was resting on his shoulders. She looked him straight in the eye, disregarding the other people in the tent as she went as close as possible to him. As opposed to earlier, her cheerful and playful demeanor was lost, replaced by a serine yet serious exterior with a will as hard as iron beneath her eyes. Her voice was slightly shaky as she spoke, her concern prevalent in her words.

“Y-you enter the spirit realm? Often even? Father… That -”

He cut her off with a stern look. He then took a deep sigh, his aged and wrinkled hand approaching her youthful face, stroking it gently as her eyes watered, threatening to break out into tears.

“I can feel it calling my Syndra… I am dying…”

Her violet eyes stared straight into his, piercing right into his soul, searching for any sign of falsehood, and sign of mistruth, despite her knowing full well that he would never lie to her about this.

“For over two hundred years I have walked this earth… By natural law I have lived almost 4 lifetimes. It is well past my time to enter into the void my child…”

Her eyes spilled out tears, her mouth quivering at his words.

“No…”

“How nice it would be to put off death, but alas, with nothing to do, nothing to spur me on, my soul is giving up on me. I have almost lost my will to live. My magic is powerful enough to live for another hundred years, but I cannot stand living that long. I am sorry my child, I will leave you soon to join our friends in the afterlife. How good it will be to see them all again…”

“NO!!!”

She shook her head, and cried loudly. The windwall that had been surrounding them flared up, throwing the other people inside the tent outside of the tent. Inside of it, the air remained perfectly still, but a slight chill fell upon the air.

“No… Please… Father…”

The windwall started to frost over, the moving air freezing in place as a pure white shell gave the two of them privacy from the recovering aids who were trying to understand what was going on.

“Syndra my chi--”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Streams of tears flew down her eyes as they changed color from a light voilet to a dark black. The ice shell expanded, encasing the entire tent in ice and freezing two of the unlucky aids who were unable to get out fast enough. The entire tent was blown away by the force, falling off of the cliff, ripped from the cliff face as easily as a fly was pushed by the wind.

As it flew off the side, the various onlookers for the race changed their center of attention, directing it at the now five meter wide sphere of ice that had formed where the tent once was.

“Father…I-I-I can find you something to give you purpose… Please, let me help you…

“Syndra…”

A calm voice rang out from under her body, but it had no effect on her. Unconsciously, the sphere started to grow again, from five meters, to six, from six meters to seven.

“You and me Father… We are unstoppable… We could do whatever it was that you want…”

“Syndra…”

“Together we are able to bring down countries,”

“Syndra!”

The sphere kept growing, along with it fierce winds and small fires were being created randomly, and eventually they started to effect the other tents as well.

“together we can conquer the world… just let us remain together...“

“SYNDRA!!!”

A fierce voice woke her from her stunned state, instantly all of the magic vanished, leaving only a small white sphere, only large enough for two people. The view inside could not be seen from the outside, but onlookers could see that on the floor near the sphere three corpses could be seen near them, each one frozen solid, the only evidence of what had killed them was the frost on their eyes and the puddle of water beneath them.

Her arms were trembling, but it was not from the cold… Her voice was shaky as her trembling arms encircled him. She put strength into them, feeling his frail and empty body. Beneath his glorious robe and his long beard lay a once great man now crippled with age.

“How long?”

Her voice was hardly a whisper as tears poured out of her eyes, dampening his chest bit by bit with the salty liquid.

“I have time… My body shall remain, but my lifeforce grows weak. Every passing day it grows weaker. There lacks a purpose to my existence… I have discovered all that I can in the fields of magic, I have established my name in the history books as an Arch Mage, I helped this country become what it is today… But there is nothing left for me that I am strong enough to do.

All of those incomplete adventures, once so easy, once so joyous and fun. They are all too difficult for my weakened body. A war would kill me, I only have one or two great magics left to cast before I deplete what little bit of life force I have left. Normal magic is fine for now, but without the focus to control it I will end up like a certain daughter of mine who is unable to control her magic while her emotions run rampant.”

Her head pressed harder into his chest as her arms squeezed him. She was a trained warrior in the prime of her species lifecycle, and by no means was she weak, but he endured the torturous pain that came with her grip as he continued his words with a smile.

“You would think, after two hundred years, under the tutelage of an Arch mage you would learn to control your magic more efficiently…”

Her voice rang out quietly, muffled by his robes which were not drenched in snot and tears from her once beautiful face.

“One hundred and ninety eight…”

“Hmm?”

“I said… One hundred and ninety eight… You have been training me for one hundred and ninety eight years to be a mage.”

His face scrunched up, confusion all over it as he struggled to recall memories from what seems like eons ago.

“But I though-” “No..”

She gave off a sad and miserable laugh that went well with her tears as she brought her hand up to caress his face.

“You saved me when you were twenty… I was thirteen… But you didn’t start to train me until I was twenty three. You didn’t have the ability to train me because you were infatuated with that girl and you spent all of your time training her…”

He smiled, as the memories flowed back to him…

“Yes.. I remember now… What was her name? I can’t even remember…”

“Her name was Lunora… And you were convinced that she was your soulmate…”

“Oh yes… Well, that was then and this is now…”

He turned his face back to the woman in front of him. She gave a sad and lonely smile when she met his eyes as her face neared his. She leaned in and kissed him, far more passionately than she did before due to the privacy that they now shared. After the first kiss she kept going, continuing with her barrage as he returned them in kind.

“It feels so wrong…”

She stopped for a moment, looking him in the eyes…

“What does father?”

He laughed wholeheartedly as his wrinkled hand came up and stroked her young face.

“This does… For almost a hundred and fifty years we have been lovers. For that entire duration you insisted on calling me father, and only now at the very end of our time together do I actually look like your father… I find it ironic.”

She hugged him closer, planting a kiss on his forehead before turning her eyes back to his. There was a certain intensity to them that he had learned to savor from all of the years that they had spent together.

“Don’t say that… You said it yourself, we could have another hundred years together before you leave for the spirit realm. Perhaps more… Let’s leave this place, just you and me. We can go together some place far away where we can spend every day together waiting for your passing. And after that I can send myself to the spirit realm to be with you…”

“No…”

He gave a curt reply, his eyes breaking contact with hers as her face distorted in anger. Anger towards him and his stubbornness.

“Why not? Go where nobody knows us, go where we won’t be questioned, where you won’t be chastised for making love with an ugly and disgusting dark elf. Go somewhere where I can love you openly, without hiding this, where I can wait the painful days as I slowly watch you die before my eyes. WHY NOT!?!?! Why must we remain here, where you have no purpose, where you have no will to live? Am I not your soulmate??”

“Syndra… It’s not like that… You are just starting your life here. The spirit realm is a dreary and dull place, there is no need to enter into it early, when I die, enjoy your life. I will wait for you, as I always have and always will…”

“You didn’t answer my question…”

He gave a sigh, returning his eyes to hers as he hugged her body close.

“I am needed here, as much as I wish to run away with you, there is no purpose in that. In fact, that would probably accelerate my death. What my soul needs is a purpose to live for, a cause. You are my soulmate, forever and always, and I would give my life here for you in a heartbeat, but my duty demands that I lay my kingdom before my personal happiness. I built this kingdom from the ground up, I was instrumental in its rise to power, if I were to suddenly walk away from it, it would be disastrous.”

“Fuck your kingdom… What are they but a bunch of humans- *SLAP*”

He took a deep breath, his hand quickly returning to her face after he slapped her. It wasn’t a hard slap, and even if he had put all of his strength into it, it wouldn’t even be enough to make her feel it, but she held her cheek and started to cry anyway.

“Syndra… For you my love, I would give the world… But for my kingdom, I must give my life… That is how it is. For now at least…”

She stared at him with eyes full of tears as she gave a slow nod before taking a big shuddering breath to steady herself as she forced out a smile. The ice dome cracked open, revealing the world around them.