Lyla swayed back and forth in the saddle, back straight, gaze unwavering towards the path ahead. In the corners of her vision the north lay dense forest too thick for the coursers, and to the south mountains too jagged to tread. The result, led the Devote of Blade to trek across the plains that lay in between, eventually to wrap around the mountain ridges, eventually joining up at the road to Basaixe.
The pointed peaks that reached past the cloud line were dripped in snowcaps, yet at their base the heat of approaching midsummer did not yield. The breeze brought fresh warm air that was filled with scents of wildflowers growing amongst the vibrant grasses.
The pace was slower than usual. Deric had the scouts moving quicker, further all around their path, to ensure the experience at Reyah’s Lace would not happen again. In spite of the slow pace, Lyla’s attention was livelier than ever. The slightest rustle in the grasses led to a chakra in her hand at least twice since they left Indigo’s Gabros. It also led to a fuller meal come noon.
The breeze abruptly gave way to a stronger current moving through the air. A wave of shadow swept over the fields, drawing the attention from many of the Devote. Overhead, obsidian black wings stretched themselves wide. Enough to block out the day’s sun.
The combination of the deepest bellow, and a high-pitched screech, was no descriptive match for the roar that came from that magnificent creature. With clouds running sparse today, the wyvern’s path was easier to spot, and there is no doubt Deric is keeping him closer than normal.
The scales glistened when the wyvern rolled itself in a helix, swooping downwards from the skies above. Sweeping over the Devote’s procession in a low pass, the wyvern let out a second screech before ascending to the skies above once more. He definitely means to send a message.
The wyvern was not the only defensive measure put in place. The binds the Devote brought with them were in full form, out in open display.
There were a dozen or so large beauke with magnificent antlers sharpened to points, that galloped with the scouts on the outskirts. Each one of them the fiercest of their herd/pack, hardened to fight alongside the Devote when necessary.
At the front with Deric and Luex, six thylacine prowled the path ahead, fanning out in ‘v’ formation. Armored in oceanic blue scales, the creatures moved with an aggressive nimbleness rivaled by few in Melacalya. In full sprint, even the fastest wolves would struggle to keep pace. Especially for their size. Over five meters in length from nose to tail, the cat-like tail whipped behind their movements, spanning nearly half their size.
Bright dandelion yellow accented their limbs, and powdered white highlighted the beauty of their underbelly, to the tip of their tails. The muzzle of their face bore a black hued mask that painted the perfect picture in balance with the exquisiteness of the display. Every so often one of the thylacine would reveal its pearly whites, a humble reminder of what they are capable of.
They were too graceful to be classified a wolf, but they moved in packs, and hunted in similar fashion. To be approached with similar caution all the same. Their natural habitat is what set them apart, notably where the variant species took their originality. Thylacine roamed the wetlands of the Greywacke Promontory, moving with unrivaled agility in the waters. Even in the absence of water entirely, their instinctual steps ripple across the sea of grass before them.
Lyla scanned the massive display the Devote of Blade unveiled. Her heart beat quickly with each bind she glanced over. Soon. Shaking her head, she searched over her shoulder.
Ciarán’s Bloodwood Lynx ran alongside the procession, flanking Ciarán at all times. Even Elli’s fennec fox kept vigilant from the pommel of her saddle. Both Ciarán and Elli were lost in conversation, unphased by the display around them. May the wonder never dissipate. Perhaps it is time - A vibrance caught her attention above her head.
Up in the skies, Luex’s cateran flyers flew formations above the procession. Dozens upon dozens, each small group flanking the Devote from a different angle. When she listened for it, she could hear the militant thrum, the rapid beating of wings that the flyers used to maneuver the skies. So many binds, all utilizing different positions and movements.
Luex himself was silently riding ahead of her, outwardly calm, unphased by the scene around him. Lyla picked up pace to draw in beside him. Nodding to the closest group of flyers above them, “How do you do it?”
He joined her gaze above, and gave her a humble grin, “Many cycles of practice and meditation.”
“Meditation?”
Luex tracked a small squadron of flyers overhead. “There is something serene, tranquil, about cleansing the mind, the body of thought and expectation. Every evening I find time to isolate myself, just to breathe.”
“For how long?”
With pure sincerity in his voice, Luex concluded, “As long as it takes.”
Breathing deep, she became lost in the cateran flyers formation above them. On a noticeable exhale, Luex shot her a curious glance.
“Maybe then I will get my bind.”
Luex spoke with genuine concern. “Patience, Lyla. The bind that destiny has laid before you is worth every ounce of eneryia your essence can muster.”
She pressed on, “I would feel more confident in my approach if I had something to work up to. With the numerous binds you have, it could only help.”
With a mindful eye towards Deric up ahead, Luex went on. “Not necessarily. Careful not to spread yourself too thin. Despite the number of my binds, I know when to test and when to accept my limits. Each bind takes a piece of you. The wyvern will take more than most if you allow it. Careful not to lose yourself entirely.”
Lyla’s posture faltered slightly in the saddle. With some passing moments of silence, Luex added quietly, “One could make the argument of adding a ‘step’ in the ladder of their journey, however.”
She raised her head to Luex swaying gently in the saddle, eyes closed. She left him a soft smile, dropping her pace to fall in line with the others.
Lyla pulled alongside Elli, who was now riding silently by herself. Shooting Elli a curious glance, she responded by nodding behind their coursers.
Lyla turned to find Dionne and Ciarán riding side by side, lips attentively wrapped around each other’s. “It’s a miracle they don’t fall over.”
Elli smirked, “They may capitalize on the opportunity rather than stop.” The two laughed, whether out of earshot or not, Ciarán and Dionne were in their own world at the moment.
“What of the recruits?” Lyla didn’t bother to turn her head again.
Nor did Elli. “Playing a game last I saw. They’re not too far behind our happy couple.”
“What about you, no games for you?”
“I’ve had my fair share of ‘third life.’ I figured I’d let them have their fun.”
Lyla let the lull of the conversation take its course. Elli had a look of beauty not many could pull off. She wore confidence in every aspect. From the confident deviance in her eyes to the playful nature she exhibited often. “What of Omaro, have you changed your mind on his offer?”
Elli fought back a tight-lipped grin that escaped the side of her face. “He can wait till our return.”
Lyla pushed, “An officer of the guild – a handsome one at that. Waiting back for you in Andescion, with strength – “
Elli cut her off, nodding behind to Dionne and Ciarán, still wrapped up in each other, “And end up like these two?”
Instinctively, Lyla nodded with genuine approval.
Dropping reluctance almost instantly, Elli quickly conceded, “Yeah. Good point.” Quick to spin the conversation, “What about you, Lyla?”
Lyla’s eyes went wide, laughing the thought off. “Me? Oh no, no, no. No. That is not my type.”
Elli rolled her eyes, “Not Omaro. Certainly, there are those in the Devote that excite your fancy.” Elli searched for any hint of reaction from Lyla, “Perhaps Deric is your type?”
Lyla’s cheeks reddened despite her best efforts, “Well he doesn’t count, who’s type wouldn’t he be?” They both laughed in agreement. “Besides I can’t afford to spare any part of myself until the wyvern is bound.”
Elli bit her lip playfully, “Your loss.” Shaking out her hair, “A beauty like you should be having some fun. You have plenty interested that’s for sure.”
Lyla scoffed the notion, “What do you mean?”
Rolling her eyes, “Oh please, Lyla. Those green eyes of yours could sway a legionnaire to the Devote just to be at your side.” Ignoring Lyla’s interjections, “Didn’t you say that Deathwalker was checking you out? You know the sociopath Ellec Skygazer gave that beatdown to?”
Lyla shook her head in disgust, “He was insane.”
Elli nodded, “Cute though! Shame he didn’t have the brains to match. An unfortunate way to die when freedom was a matter of closing one’s mouth.”
Peaking over her shoulder, Lyla added, “By that admission, I know two that would suffer the same fate.”
Elli and Lyla’s laughter was interrupted by a barrage of scraps hurled at their backs. Each turned to find Dionne digging through Ciarán’s saddlebags for anything she could use for projectiles.
“Hey! – Dionne, I need those!” Mid throw, Ciarán managed to hold her back, leaving Dionne prey to Elli’s taunting.
Switching her attack to Ciarán, “Who’s side are you on?”
Ciarán pondered in his recoiled stance, “Yours?”
“There was some hesitation in that answer, Ciarán!” Dionne attempted to pull her courser from his side.
With a quick reflex he grabbed hold of her reins, pretending to talk out of Elli’s and Lyla’s earshot. “When they sleep tonight, we can exact our revenge. Don’t forget Elli sleeps by our fire. She’ll never see it coming.”
Dionne glared him down. Despite her best efforts, Ciarán sat with a satisfied grin, breaking her attempt at a scowl, into obvious longingness. She finally conceded, “At night then. Elli first though, Lyla I like more.”
It was Elli’s turn to drop her mouth agape, “Rude!”
The four lost themselves in conversation in the next few hours to come. It was a little after midday when Deric brought the scouts in, bringing the procession to a halt. On a raised flatland beside the smooth mountain crag, a few Devote immediately began digging out fire pits, likely we’ll spend the rest of the day here. The stone wall rose high, offering enough shade for the entire group of Devote Deric brought with him.
The view was tranquil in itself, to be appreciated despite the heightened circumstances. Rolling fields of grasslands from each corner of the horizon, mountains at their backs, dense rich green forest off in the distance beyond the fields. Overhead, the wyvern circled the soon to be encampment. Periodically dipping over the mountaintops, but never out of range.
Once the fence posts were set, Lyla and the others tied off their coursers, beginning the search for their assigned tasks. Not far from the edge of the camp line, Deric gathered the recruits, and the ranging leaders together. Leaving the rest of the Devote to finish setting up camp.
Energy was high amongst the Devote, conviction higher, lust for a shot at a Blood Ranger at the highest. Deric spoke sternly, but with heavy traces of confidence. “You all have had a chance now to hone your attention to the mark of the ranger. A skill that will grow with practice, and time. You have also begun to connect with the creatures of the realm, some even with successful soothing. The day will come where you each will obtain soul-binds, further strengthening the eneryia within you all. While the turning of the wheel is young, due to the rise of threats around us, there is another skill worth instilling upon you.”
All eyes were on Deric. He lowered to a dropped knee, pulling out the Night Witch’s dagger. Simultaneously, the thunderous beating of wings echoed off the stone walls, the wyvern peaking over the mountaintops, into their sight again.
With dramatic elegance, the wyvern descended with a soft landing behind him, patiently waiting. Raising his hands for all to see, the dagger in one hand, an open palm in the other, Deric took the blade and gradually slashed across his raised palm. The wyvern shook itself, beating its wings before growing still once more behind Deric. Blood dripped freely, he cut deep.
Signaled with a nod, Luex silently stepped forward, three of his cateran flyers buzzing above him. Enclosing Deric’s bleeding hand with both of his own, Luex took a deep breath, followed with a long exhalation.
Auburn-gold tendrils of a ranger’s aura, snaked from his eyes, slithering down his shoulders, moving about his arms like veins. Hovering just above his hands, the aura circled above and below his cupped hands. The aura spread, encompassing Luex’s hands like dense roots taking hold of soil.
The cateran flyers drew her attention, for what usually moved in harmony, complete militant unison, began to stagger in flight. The three hovering above him were no longer in sync. One shook, falling below the height of the others, struggling to maintain the wing speed of its brethren. While the shaking grew more aggressive, Lyla felt her own discomfort growing in unison.
When Luex finally pulled his hands apart from Deric’s, the eneryia tendrils dissipated, fading back within his physical form. Glancing back at the cateran flyers, the three moved in harmony once more, hovering above Luex in circular formation while Luex moved himself back to the rest of the Devote.
Without saying a word, Deric raised both his hands, palms out, for the Devote to see. Either hand was equally healthy to the other, no trace of the gash persisted, no sign of its existence whatsoever. Dustin, Tehyra, all the recruits were awestruck. Lyla watched with anticipation herself, the surreal essence of the skill does not fade.
“Sacrificial Regrowth. The healing does not come without consequence. For those that noticed, Luex’s cateran flyers felt the strain. What you did not see however, was the strain it put on Luex.” Giving Luex a courteous glance, he continued, “Not to say our ranging leader didn’t hide it well, but when you attempt to sow growth, a healing essence into another, it comes with the cost of your own wellbeing.” Pacing closer, “The more severe the injury, the increased severity of the cost it takes on you.”
Eying the recruits one by one, “This is an easy skill to learn, extremely difficult to master. Without caution, just as one can lose themselves in an attempt to soul-bind, one can lose themselves aiding another.” With a watchful gaze towards Ciarán and Lyla, “Even eneryia, has its limits.”
“The time will come where this skill is necessary to aid your brothers, your sisters. Like the binds we make, the Devote of Blade will act in unison.” With that, Deric called out the ranging leaders one by one, three circles forming around him. Lyla had Farrah and Dustin with her. Ciarán’s circle contained Elli, Dionne, and their recruit; Haydrin. Tehyra and Auedon taking their place with Luex.
Lyla sat kneeling on the ground. Hesitantly, Lyla unclasped one of her chakras, carefully eying the bainite blade reflecting in the daylight. A palm pressed against her shoulder, Deric spoke softly in passing, “Not quite so deep.” Keeping her gaze on the blade, she nodded. Pressing the curve of her blade into her open palm, she turned her wrist only slightly, but enough to make blood creep out from the movement.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Wiping the blade clean, she lay it on her leg. Back straight, Lyla remained kneeled, calmly outstretching her palm to Farrah. Dustin observed quietly, while Farrah prepared to give her first attempt.
Kneeling directly in front of Lyla, the two sat face to face from each other. With one hand under, one hand over, Farrah took Lyla’s hand in hers. The embrace of Farrah’s hand, calloused from palm to fingertips, was cool to the touch. Farrah’s eyes shone up close, a dark brown, almost a dark oaken texture emphasized by the defined outlines in her face, that equally spoke volumes in beauty, that they did in a leader’s prowess. Perhaps one day…
With an incredibly attentive focus, Farrah gazed directly at Lyla, seemingly unblinking. Her ranger’s aura, similar in hue to match her eyes, lingered in the air between them. Tiny tendrils rested upon unseen clouds of air, swaying in the gap that lay between them. Her brows furrowed the longer they lingered.
“Try and find the source of the injury, not from outside, but from within.”
Farrah blinked twice, refocusing, steadying breath to a meditative pace. The aura restructured, dissipating between them, reforming around herself. Growing in vein-like tendrils, her aura encompassed her physical form, spreading from her core to the extent of her limbs.
Lyla jumped in quicker this time. “Remember, find the source of the injury within me.”
Farrah’s lips tightened for a brief instant, before she reassessed, allowing the aura to recede within her once more. Beads of sweat were forming on her face. The skill does not come with ease. After once more, Dustin will attempt.
She shook her body out, proceeding to attempt again. The aura crept out from within her once more. Spreading in vein-like tendrils down her shoulders, laying on top of her outstretched arms. The spread grew thin by the time it reached her wrists. A push of encouragement caught on the tip of Lyla’s tongue, halted by Farrah’s tightened grip with a quick pulse.
The aura thickened, spreading from her wrists, across her own hands. The roots of the aura surrounded the surface of Farrah’s hands, rotating in spherical form, seeping through the crevices. Lyla felt the ice told touch of eneryia, her body taking a slight quiver to the sensation.
Farrah’s own body trembled, followed by a desperate gasp for breath, immediately cutting the ties to the aura. She let go of Lyla’s hand, tightly clenching her own to stop the shaking. Lyla revealed the palm of her hand, most of the layers of skin had taken hold, a line marked where the cut had been, but the concept has been instilled. “That was good, Farrah.”
Farrah held her own hand with caution, a slight gaze of suspicion, or confusion rather, overcame her. Dustin himself had a similar reaction, with much more apparent confusion. Lyla spoke calmly, “The sacrificial regrowth comes at the price of our own essence. In the case of having no soul bind to share the price with, the cost comes directly from within you.”
The looks on their faces did not dissipate in the slightest. Lyla added, “The pain will fade, it is merely temporary in the beginning. If you push yourself too far however, the cost can be more dire.” That definitely did not help.
Before Lyla could ease their minds, Deric knelt beside their group, taking Lyla’s hand in his own. It happened so quickly, she could barely witness it unfold before her. An arctic ice aura flowed through him to her, a pulse of a current, appearing then dissipating in the blink of an eye.
He gently let go, but kept his knelt stance. Lyla revealed her palm again, the skin had fully taken form, with no trace of a cut ever having existed at all. He turned to Farrah, “Well done. We may bring your fate to fruition before the turn of the cycle.” Farrah watched, enthralled. With that, he rose. Turning to Dustin before he rotated to another group, “No pressure.”
Farrah smiled, repositioning herself further back so Dustin could take his place in front of Lyla. This cycle? Her? She’s not ready… Dustin exhaled directly in Lyla’s face while he got himself mentally ready. Lyla’s face squinted with a brief hint of annoyance, quickly readjusting her own mental thought process, “Thank you for that, Dustin.”
Unaware of what she meant, he merely replied “You’re welcome.” He continued his body positioning prep for his attempt at the sacrificial regrowth. Shaking her head, Lyla couldn’t help but smile. She took the chakra in her hand again, drawing blood in the same place she had done prior.
In attempt to focus primarily on Dustin, she watched Deric rotate group to group from the corner of her eye. Auedon had a healthy aura of his own snaking down his arms. Its reach gradually progressing towards the hands he wrapped around Luex’s. Deric watched passively, eying the other group’s progress.
“Try and focus on the source of the injury, Dustin.” Bringing her gaze fully back, Lyla calmly coached Dustin. The deep blue hue of his aura idly lingered in the air, similarly to Farrah’s first attempt.
With a quick nod, Dustin breathed in the eneryia, allowing the aura to dissipate. Lyla watched the other group from her peripherals. Haydrin watched intently while Elli worked the skill with confident finesse. Elli always had a knack for that.
Bringing full attention back to Dustin, she watched the tendrils of eneryia surrounding her hands entirely. “Surprised?” Lyla’s eyes went wide, with Dustin sitting there wearing a cocky smile on his face. The effect faded quickly. He released her hand, for her to reveal a scarred line where the cut had been.
Farrah burst out laughing, the victorious smirk on Dustin’s face dropping immediately upon Lyla’s reveal. “That’s what you get for boasting.”
“I was so close!”
“You would have had it if you had not distracted yourself!” Lyla turned to Farrah, “Finish his mess for him, Farrah.”
Dustin moved aside for Farrah, the confidence returning. “Still managed it quicker than you, Farrah! I’ll take that for a win.” That is true.
“I merely warmed the process up for you, Dustin.”
“Oh no, no, no. I see what you’re doing. Lyla let me finish this.” Dustin attempted to sit himself between Farrah and Lyla.
“Dustin come here, show me how it’s done.” Tehyra called over the commotion Dustin managed to make, drawing her attention, while she sat impatiently watching Auedon and Luex practice.
Giving his own ranging group a dramatic departing farewell, Dustin made his way over to Luex’s small circle, sitting himself cross legged in front of Tehyra. The two exchanged words, leading not long after to Dustin reluctantly drawing his dagger.
Lyla brought her gaze match Farrah’s. Ready.
The late afternoon brought a downpour of rain from the south. A fortunate occurrence that we could take refuge alongside the mountainous walls that guarded the backside of the camp. The early evening was spent with backsides to stone, while rain fell in waves at a sixty-degree angle.
Even more fortunate, the heavy rains were short lived. The evening meal was spent in the calm after the storm. The heat of day relinquished to the cool temperatures that were much appreciated so close to midsummer.
Lyla sat outside her tent, the three rinsed wooden bowls from the meal stacked at her side. The smoldering cookfires offered just enough light left to paint shadows on the tents of the other Devote while they prepared for the night’s rest.
While gazing into the bright glow of embers, Lyla observed the campsite fade to a standstill. From scouts making final preparations to their shifts, to Beirith clawing at the tent flap to join Ciarán and Dionne. After numerous protests from the lynx, Dionne opened the flap and took him inside.
Allowing the embers to fade to black, Lyla sat blanketed in darkness. Her sight had adjusted to the finite amount of light emitted from the sister moons tonight, while each stir of movement echoed loudly in the quiet. From the soft padding of beauke adjusting their hooves while they slept, to the chirping of crickets singing in the grasses beyond, each noise was amplified with the rest of the camp in standstill. Tranquil in a way.
A tent flap opened nearby, catching her attention. The outlines of Ciarán pushed through, walking briskly along the westward mountain wall, till out of sight altogether.
Returning her gaze to what remained of her campfire, she allowed herself to drift in and out of conscious. Not much difference between keeping my eyes open or shut at this point. In the miniscule lines of light, the burnt wood glistened, offering aid in keeping the outside landscape painted in shadows versus a dark void. A meditative state…
With slight reluctance, she brought herself upright, stretching out the night’s temptation to turn directly into the tent. Taking in heavy breaths of the crisp air that had settled on the camp, her senses wakened. Not here though.
Lyla walked eastward along the mountain’s stone, periodically searching out across the grasslands. The moonlight left accents on the tips of the blades of grass, illuminating the rise and fall of the natural flow between the Devote’s camp, and the forest beyond…
One of the Devote scouts patrolling the outskirts of their post gave Lyla a questioning look, but she returned the glance reassuringly, resulting in the scout remaining at his post. Lyla pressed on, approaching a small crest nearby.
The small plateau overlooked the campsite, the grasslands below, and the forest beyond. This should do. She made to sit cross-legged, despite the damp state of the ground beneath. All the more reason to meditate, isolating the physical from the mental states.
Closing her eyes, she sat straight, shoulders back, letting her consciousness drift. From being on a raised plateau above the rest of the nearby landscape, to… to the forest beyond. Opening her eyes, she gazed into the distance. The words echoed in her ears, her heartbeat jumped at the thought of it. It is where Arias would want it.
Standing upright again, she descended the small crest, into the grasslands below. Making straight for the opposite end. A strange sensation flowed through her while she walked, the cryptic feeling leaving a smile on her face, growing with each step.
A growing light gradually brought her attention upwards. She did not slow her pace, but the path ahead is clear. Up in the sky, a palette of bright lime danced with hues of mint, all on a wave of light that stretched from the south to the north. Snaking its way across the sky, towards the forest. Lead me, Arias. The tips of the green lights ascended in bright shades of violet. Lyla’s heartbeat quickened.
It wasn’t long until the first of the trees were within arm’s reach, or at least didn’t seem that long. The tree line grew dense rather quickly, blocking out much of what the night’s sky had to offer tonight. Despite the canopy’s best efforts, thin lines of light straked downwards, illuminating the northward path.
At many of the trunk’s bases lay puddles accumulated from the rampant rains earlier in the day. The soil was mostly mud at this point, sucking onto her boots with each step. Beads of water rested upon flora, in addition to falling at a steady pace from the canopies above. The light was trapped in all of it. Hints of green, violet danced in water droplets and puddles alike. Dancing along the edges of their translucent confines.
A wall of branches blocked the way forward. She felt for a way through, not around, not now. Contorting her body, she managed to push her way through the thick brush ahead. When the branches snapped back into place, they hurled her forward into a clearing.
Cracked stone lay at the surface, spanning the entirety of the clearing. Mostly overgrown in moss, carved runes peaked through where the moss did not cover, lining the edges of the stone circle. She wandered attentively, inadvertently making her way towards the epicenter.
Sitting herself at the central point of the clearing, the sensations that flowed through her, amplified. I will not steer the path now. The stone was cool to the touch, the pockets of moss that managed to creep close enough had the faintest hints of dampness, but it makes no matter.
She closed her eyes, beginning to make the attempt to slow her breath. Her instincts were to draw in the world around her, the approach she would use to track. She resisted, instead drawing inward. Her heartbeat began to cave to her will, and with each passing beat, thoughts ran frantic in her head.
It is my destiny to bind my essence to a wyvern, it will be mine, we will be intertwined, how much of myself will I lose, I won’t allow myself to succumb, I am strong – breathe. With another breath, she slowed her thoughts. Do not get swarmed, you are the one chosen for this path, what about Farrah? – Focus. Breathe. A long exhale, she let the thoughts pour out of her consciousness.
From the rebirth at the pyres, training with Ciarán, training with Deric, to the Blood Ranger the other day. Exhale all of it. On her next inhale, the air felt brisker than it had prior. A serene emptiness, she kept her eyes closed, but she could feel the trees around her, their roots stretching like veins below her. Subconsciously she made to dig her hands in the dirt, only to be met by the now warm stone beneath her. Don’t stop now.
Continuing, she paced her slow, exaggerated breaths, allowing more of the world around her in than ever before. There is so much more to see… She felt the pulse of movement in all directions. She felt the bodies of the Devote sleeping at the campsite, she felt the watchful eyes guarding their location, she felt the wyvern beat its wings in the skies above mountain peaks, she felt the soft steps of paw prints nearby - Moving paw prints.
Drawing in more of the world around her, she focused in on the mark. It moved on four legs, alone, slowly. She opened her eyes, squinting from the moonlight. Searching through the line of trees, across every direction in the strange clearing she had stumbled upon. Nothing stirs.
Closing her eyes once more, she focused in on the mark again. The creature stalked the edge of the tree line, she felt his breath, his heartbeat, the soft sway of his tail behind him.
With caution, the creature stepped through the clearing, onto the cracked stones that led to where Lyla sat. Paws padding silently across stone.
Mirroring his attentiveness, Lyla opened her eyes, and there before her, stood the large black leopard on all fours. In a luscious coat of oiled black, the creature stood still, silent with the dead of night. He stared into her eyes with a hybrid golden emerald hue that shone magnificently in the glimmers of light offered by the darkened skies above.
She slowed her breath, beat by beat, taking it all in, making miniscule movements in her motion to approach the creature. Sapphire accents glistened in the fur of the black leopard, reflective of the soft glow of moonlight, you’re marked with eneryia…
Resting upon one knee, Lyla closed her eyes, reached out, feeling for the embrace. Her heart skipped a beat on contact with the warmth of his fur. She reached for the connection, relinquishing herself to the pull of the leopard’s will.
Lyla opened her eyes to the creature’s vision. Kilometers away, he sprinted through rocky terrain, out of its natural element. There were others. Another black leopard ran alongside him, while a smaller one struggled to keep up in between the two. The three fleeting creatures breathed heavily, the blood soaks down at the paws.
The small pride came to a halt at the joining of a mountain ridge and lake. Scanning the path they had come, eyes watched deviously beyond the tree line. Surrounded.
Two-legged beasts entered line of sight, with crimson black auras emerging from their eyes in wispy tendrils. Growing in a cryptic ominous pace, one by one the tendrils of eneryia reached out with threatening hands.
The black leopard at his side roared with agonizing pain, the young one nestled under the legs of its mother. Fear flushed throughout her body, rage consumed Lyla - him, and took the place of fear. With an aggressive step forward, he let out a ferocious roar, exhuming every ounce of breath in him.
Talons of eneryia grasped the head of his companion, he stood frozen watching her eyes turn to lifeless black orbs, before collapsing on the ground beside him. The cub screamed in short bursts, while nudging futilely at the lifeless body of its mother.
One of the two-legged beasts stood at the front of the others. Bloodlust flowed through the black leopard, its fangs bared, gaze locked, set on its target. Pounce.
The beast on two legs stood tall with a small blade clenched in its fist. His skin was deathly pale, with a stare equally unyielding. The blade went up defensively to block the leopard’s powerful jaw. In the instance of the black leopard being interlocked with the assailant, Lyla got a glimpse of the man up close.
A flaxen gold cape, thin as hair, flowed from his shoulders, to match the hue of the long mane he braided to his chest line. He was wrapped in thick bluish grey leathers from head to toe. His eyes… Lyla felt her own heartbeat in separation from the leopard’s. He stares right through me…
A deep breath and everything moved slow, she synced up their breaths once more, we will be one… With a swipe of her paw, she attempted to knock the dagger free, his grip is resilient…
His expression never shifted, the cold… the emptiness… she backed away from the man… who unhurriedly stood from his crouched aggressive stance, into more of a nonchalant composure.
Whipping her head behind her, the cub lay lifeless beside the mother. One of the other two-legged beasts had made their way over to the two now corpses. In blinded fury, the black leopard reversed with unparallel haste and dove at the throat of the unsuspecting culprit.
With not a second to spare, Lyla felt the teeth clamp down nearly effortlessly through the neck. Snapping bone like a boot on a twig, blood gushed through the leopard’s muzzle. He shook the body, tossing it aside with the care of a child’s toy doll.
Blood dripped from the leopard’s open mouth. We are not done here, are we. Underneath the rage, Lyla felt the gut-wrenching stab of despair begin to overtake her. The leopard stalked side to side, while the rest of the assailants watched.
The tendrils of eneryia snaked through the air once more, and the leopard jolted backwards, standing behind the fallen. The mother… the son… The leopard and Lyla breathed heavily in unison. They glanced down at the cub.
She saw the lifeless eyes, jaw helplessly wide open, pressed against the dirt. Never to move again. Never to run the fields of grass. Never to bathe beneath the star of day. Never to feel warmth again.
The two-legged beasts approached, reluctantly the black leopard backpedaled a defensive retreat, never taking its eyes off the sluggish moving creatures approaching.
One in particular, the one cloaked in gold, pressed a tense hand into the lifeless body of the mother. Lyla watched in horror. They drain the eneryia from these creatures dry.
Her heartbeat became frantic, the two-legged demons walked slowly closer to them. She was frozen with the trance of their steps, the malevolent use of eneryia before her eyes. With a quickened thrust, she felt the leopard break free, sprinting over the dead assailant, dodging side to side breaking from the others that tried to stop it. Run. Get out of here.
Fear drew her glance back. Some of the two-legged beasts ran full form after her, after us. The golden cloaked one never moved, he merely stood back and watched, with the same expressionless stare. Blood Rangers. These, these are Blood Rangers.
She felt the black leopard pull her forward, as one, they sprinted through the forest. Slowly the air became too thin to breathe, her breaths became frantic, desperate…
With a gasp, she awoke under the cover of darkness. Face to face with her own body. Through the eyes of the black leopard - through the eyes of Charrux, your name is Charrux, she saw her own reflection of her physical form.
Thin black hair flowed freely behind her head, forest green eyes locked into the gaze of Charrux, with a similar hued aura of eneryia, the ranger’s aura, illuminating the area around them. Particles of dust sparkling in the limelight. Her face was soft, light, thin lips gently parted, awestruck, lost in the moment. She was thin, yet athletically toned, covered head to boot in the Devote of Blade fashioned armors and clothing. Confidence washed over her display.
On her next exhale of breath, the world faded to darkness once more. This time when she opened her eyes, she gazed into the eyes of Charrux. The rush swept over her immediately, nearly collapsing her at the knees.
She embraced Charrux, pressing her head into his fur. Tears trickled down her face while the tides of emotions swept over her in full form. I will not tame you… No, we will ride together, as one.
Together, they were still in the clearing, her hair tangled in the wind, but it makes no difference. After what seemed an eternal night, Lyla stood, drying her face with her wrist.
Charrux at her side, roared, fangs glistening in the moonlight. The roar sent chills down her spine, prickling her skin from head to toe.
It was not the scream of aggression, nor the cry of a defensive stance, nor calling for help. It was the proud battle cry of freedom.
She gazed out past the clearing, southward, over towards the upper limits of the horizon. Despite no line of sight to Obsidius’ Crown, the pathway to the wyvern is solidified.
For the first time, she breathed in the cold night air, exhaling confidence.