Kraid knelt alone amidst the remnants of the battlefield, a mix of unease and determination swirling within him. The fate of his injured friend and master weighed heavily on his mind, but he knew he had a crucial task to fulfill.
Surveying the aftermath, Kraid's keen Kraven eyes took in the scene. The Earthen clan had cleared the area, driving out the remaining members of the Blood clan who stubbornly clung to their disbelief in the apparition. He welcomed the solitude, finding solace in the rhythmic resonance of the nearby waves.
Approaching the ashen remains of the Grand Elder Imok, Kraid sighed. She would take many secrets with her to the grave. Kraid renewed his efforts. It was those very secrets that he now sought to uncover. With a desperation-driven need to understand, he delicately sifted through the mound of ash. His nimble fingers dug deeper through the remnants of the tyrant's torso.
Memories of a concealed conversation between Imok and a dark, sinister voice flooded Kraid's mind. That time he’d been spying for Drell, searching for information about Ralina's whereabouts, but stumbled upon something far more dangerous. The ancient King's words echoed in his head, revealing the existence of a hidden puppeteer orchestrating Imok's ascent to power.
During that secret exchange, he’d caught a glimpse of a blue glow emanating from beneath Imok's throat, reminiscent of the green jewel-encrusted ring he possessed. It was an artifact he had stolen long ago from a band of mercenaries by the town of Branside.
Eagerly, Kraid delved deeper into the ash remains of the Elder, his fingers eventually making contact with something solid. With a triumphant mutter, he retrieved two small masses from the mound, brushing away the ash to reveal a blue and green gemstone nestled amidst the dark powder—a hidden treasure.
Stepping away from the mound, Kraid cleared the debris from the stones, lifting them skywards to examine their intricate patterns with his piercing yellow eyes. As a Kraven, his natural sight surpassed that of any human. The flawless surface of the gems held a surprising secret—arcing patterns etched within, resembling a torrent of black ink swirling like a storm. And upon closer inspection, the patterns revealed themselves to be a collection of words.
He flinched as he realised, they were the same words and patterns he had seen in the tomes of event casters written in Dread Ink.
As Kraid marvelled at the gems in his hands, he couldn't help but contrast them with the smaller, ink-free gem he possessed. His own power was old and pure, yet limited, whereas Imok's seemed boundless—until the arrival of Karn.
The existence of the Book of the Known changed everything.
He knew the origins of these gems as remnants of Elementlet heart stones. Originally, they were given willingly to protect the living, Kraid's curiosity piqued. How could they be infused with Dread Ink, forcibly altering their nature?
As if sensing his scrutiny, the ink within the gems paused, the words on the surface becoming distinct. Kraid's eyes zeroed in on a particular string of words, containing the very essence of the slave event.
“Nahm tonic,” he read softly.
With a triumphant chuckle, he exclaimed, "Gotcha!" The ink retreated deeper within the gems, as if startled.
With his clue in hand, Kraid flicked the stones into the air and deftly caught them with his Kraven claws. Finally, he had found what he was searching for—a breakthrough in breaking the event's hold.
In an instant, Kraid transformed into his raven form, his inky black wings propelling him upward into the sky. The wind rushed past him as he ascended, relishing the fresh air that contrasted the stench of carnage below.
Pausing to appreciate the scene beneath his wings, Kraid spotted a sprawling Sun Felren tent within the city, hastily erected as a medical bay. With his Kraven spine arched and wings outstretched, he began his descent.
As Kraid approached the tent, his senses were assaulted by the scent of death. Funereal shrouds covered several lifeless bodies, forming a grim path that led to the entrance. Unease crept into his heart.
A man's voice rang out, "Woman, please remain calm. You'll be able to see him once we stabilize his condition," the voice commanded.
Kraid's human guise allowed him to blend in seamlessly, granting him a clear view of the source. It was a burly man in living steel armour, his voice filled with a mix of authority and concern. Beside him stood an elderly figure, hair as white as snow, clutching a weathered green tome above Drell's convulsing body. The once vibrant Elder now lay pale and gasping, his every breath a struggle.
Lyra, a bundle of nerves, paced anxiously just outside the tent, her emotions teetering on tears. Her worried eyes darted between the man in armour and the frail figure tending to Drell.
"You're certain he'll be alright?" asked the protective guard.
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The seasoned event caster exhaled deeply; his weariness clear in the lines etched upon his face. "A few of his ribs have been broken, and there may be internal bleeding. Bolgart don’t let anyone in," he replied, then muttered, “Should have come straight to me…”
Bolgart's nodded. "Can't you save him, Farlen?"
A flicker of uncertainty danced across Farlen's eyes, his gaze focused on Drell's feeble form. "We shall see," he responded, his voice laden with a blend of cautious optimism and a sober acknowledgment of limitations.
The weight of uncertainty hung heavily in the air, tension thickening as the fate of Drell remained uncertain. Kraid observed the exchange, his presence hidden behind his human facade. The stakes were high, and the outcome uncertain, but the determination in Farlen's eyes hinted at a relentless spirit unwilling to accept defeat.
A faint, dull glow emanated from Farlen's hand as he gently pressed it against the open pages of his event casting book. His other hand lay gently on Drell's chest, fingers finding solace in the rise and fall of his breath. The aging man uttered a few incantations under his breath.
As Farlen chanted, Drell's face contorted in a mixture of pain and anticipation, his limbs bathed in ethereal lights that swirled and danced like miniature fireflies. The magical energy responded to Farlen's touch, weaving its way through Drell's body, seeking to mend what was broken.
The room seemed to hold its breath as the lights continued their graceful movements, casting an otherworldly glow on the scene.
Drell gritted his teeth, his muscles tensing as the restorative magic coursed through his veins. Sweat glistened on his forehead. Minutes passed like hours. Farlen's brow furrowed, a mix of concentration and concern etched across his weathered face.
Finally, the lights began to fade, their vibrant dance slowly subsiding. Farlen withdrew his hand from the book, breaking the connection with the ancient events contained within. He released a tired breath, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly.
Drell exhaled, his body relaxing as a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
"Thank you," he whispered.
Farlen met Drell's gaze. "The event was successful, but it will take time before you fully recover."
With a gentle pat on Drell's shoulder.
The worn, older man raised his arm and gestured for Lyra and Kraid to enter the tent. With a grimace, Drell spotted their arrival. Lyra, a woman of striking beauty with a long blonde braid cascading down her back, rushed to stand beside her master's bed. She enveloped him in a comforting embrace, while Kraid observed from a respectful distance, witnessing the tender display of affection.
Drell turned his attention to Kraid, a playful glint in his eyes. "I'd shake your hand, but I'm afraid I might faint," he quipped.
Kraid's smiled.
Closing his eyes briefly, Drell shifted uncomfortably. "It... it itches," he admitted.
Farlen chuckled softly. "That's a good sign. It means the healing process is working."
Drell released a sharp breath, a mixture of relief and mild discomfort escaping his lips.
"You should consider yourself fortunate, Elder," Farlen commented, his blue book set aside momentarily as he assessed Drell's progress.
Drell's strained voice broke the silence. "I offer my gratitude, magic man," he said, a touch of awe mingling with the strain in his voice. Despite the revelation from the long-deceased King, Elder Drell remained visibly uneasy with the workings of magic.
Farlen offered him a warm smile. "Your wounds have closed, and your life is no longer in immediate danger. However," he continued, his tone taking on a more serious note, "I must warn you. The tendons behind your right shoulder, where you were stabbed, have been severed. Move carefully."
Panic flashed across Lyra's face. "Will he be alright?" she blurted.
"It's alright, Lyra. I will be fine," Drell reassured her.
Farlen interjected, wincing at the intense gaze Lyra directed his way. "However, even using your left hand may prove challenging."
Lyra scowled, clearly displeased with the implications.
Drell, ever the optimist, responded with a light-hearted remark. "Well, then I'll just have to rely on your excellent care, Lyra," he teased, a sideways glance, and a chuckle shared between them.
"Make sure you take care," Farlen interrupted, injecting a note of caution, "The wound you sustained not only severed tendons but also damaged part of your spine. A claw fragment has lodged itself within your chest, and until your healing progresses significantly, it cannot be safely removed."
Elder Drell sighed, acknowledging the extended period of recovery ahead. He looked up at Lyra, a tender smile forming. "It seems you'll have to care for me for a while longer," he said.
Lyra, in her human form, began to purr.
Kraid, coughing lightly to gain Elder Drell's attention, redirected the focus of the conversation from the captivating presence of the female in Drell's arms.
"Elder Drell, I found what we were looking for," he began.
Drell's gaze met Kraid's, curiosity and anticipation in his eyes. "And more, you say?"
Kraid extended his hand, revealing two large gems within his grasp. "These," he explained, "are the same colour as the event books. They were the source of Elder Imok's power."
Drell gasped, a mix of surprise and pain rippling across his face. Lyra's attempt to offer a comforting touch halted midway, frozen by the strange expression of disapproval from Kraid. Farlen, noticing the exchange, cast a puzzled glance between them.
Clearing his throat, Kraid continued. "Farlen, I believe we, as newfound allies, need to cooperate in investigating these gems. When I witnessed Imok using them, I heard a mysterious voice emanating from within. A man's voice. I believe he is the one responsible for the bloodshed we've witnessed."
Farlen examined the gem, its secrets hidden beneath its surface. "May I keep this?" he asked, a hint of excitement blending with his curiosity. "I would like to delve deeper into its mysteries."
Kraid nodded with a gesture of respect. "This falls within your expertise. Any assistance you can provide in unravelling this will be greatly appreciated."
"I will delve into it," Farlen affirmed, his determination clear. "But for now, we all need rest. I must attend to others as well."
"Farlen," Elder Drell interjected quickly, seizing the momentary pause in conversation.
"Yes?" Farlen responded.
"I have an unusual question," Drell began, a hint of mischievousness twinkling in his eyes. "It may sound rather peculiar, but I must ask. Do you happen to know if the young man Karn is betrothed?"
"Betrothed? Married?" Farlen queried, his confusion apparent. "No, I have seen no evidence of that."
Drell's grin widened, mischief dancing in his gaze. "I was just curious, considering his recent interactions with my daughter."