“Didn’t expect to find you out here.” Kael’s voice was steady, but there was a challenge in it—a simmering force barely restrained, like the fire itself. His crimson eyes narrowed as he looked Aric over from head to toe. “You’ve been missing for a while, so I thought I’d check up on you. Seems you’ve been hiding from everyone.”

Aric’s expression hardened as he met Kael’s stare, though the effort cost him. He could feel the corruption coiling within him, gnawing at his insides with each passing moment. “So what? Decided you’d drop in from the skies to check on me?” he said, forcing his tone to remain cool, unaffected. “Seems a bit excessive, even for you, Kael.”

Kael’s mouth quirked into a half-smile, though his gaze remained intense. “Not everything has to be subtle. Besides,” he added, stepping forward, “it’s the quickest way to reach someone who doesn’t want to be found.”

Aric’s hands clenched, feeling the weight of his own weakened state. The corruption had taken its toll, but he wasn’t about to show that to Kael. “I’m not some lost sheep, Drakyrn,” he shot back, his voice tinged with irritation. “If I needed help, I’d ask.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you’re too proud to realize how far gone you are,” Kael said, his eyes flickering with a touch of concern beneath the fierceness. “Look at you, Aric. You’re pale, shaky…., What did you do?”

"It's nothing." Aric replied.

Kael’s gaze sharpened, a hint of suspicion darkening his crimson eyes. “Don’t try to fool me, Aric. I’ve dealt with creatures from the Wyrd before—you’re giving off the same energy as them.” He leaned in, his voice low, almost accusatory. “So tell me, what in the world did you do to end up like this?”

Aric hesitated, his jaw clenched as he weighed whether to reveal everything. But something in Kael’s intensity struck a chord; though they clashed often, Kael was, in his own way, pragmatic. Beneath his pride and impulsiveness, he was someone who thought about the bigger picture—and Aric knew that, in this instance, Kael might understand.

“Fine,” Aric muttered, exhaling sharply. “I’ll tell you. But it stays between us.”

Kael raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “I’m listening.”

Aric’s gaze drifted as memories of the cursed cave resurfaced. “I stumbled on a cave while I was out here. At first, I thought it was nothing—a dead end.” He shook his head, weighed down by the recklessness of it all. “But then I saw them—cultists, gathered around some ritual. They were using... Wyrd energy, trying to twist it into something else, sacrificing elves in the process.”

He recounted most of the story to Kael, though he kept a few details to himself.

“Fool,” Kael muttered, but his expression softened, understanding dawning in his eyes. “You didn’t just watch, did you?”

“No,” Aric replied bitterly. “I thought I could mask myself, blend in with them by taking in the Wyrd energy—thought I’d figure out their plan from the inside. But things spiraled out of control fast. Before I could make sense of it, Sylvan’s knights showed up, and I had to get out.”

By now, Aric had grown accustomed to acting more like his old self—the version of him that wasn’t so detached from everything. He could let emotions play across his face, making his performance all the more convincing.

Kael’s gaze held steady, his expression grim but not surprised. “And now you’re carrying that corruption. It’s eating you alive.”

Aric’s jaw tightened. “I thought I could handle it. But it’s like this thing… it has a mind of its own. Every time I push it down, it pushes back, harder.”

Kael took a breath, his face hardening. “My father warned me about these cultists,” he said, his tone ominous. “He told me that their goal was far worse than just stirring up chaos. They want to tear open the Veil itself—let the Wyrd flood through and bring ‘The Forgotten Ones’ back into our world.”

'So it was them after all. I had my suspicions, but confirming it feels... troubling,' Aric thought before acting oblivious.

“The Forgotten Ones?” he repeated, furrowing his brows. “So the cultists are just pawns?”

“Yes,” Kael nodded, his voice grave. “The cultists you saw were likely using Wyrd energy to transform themselves into… beacons, of sorts. They’d willingly corrupt their bodies with Wyrd, turning themselves into conduits. Then, at some strategic point, they’d release that energy all at once, where the Veil is already weak.”

Aric’s hands clenched at his sides. “So they’re going to sacrifice themselves to create breaches in the Veil. Letting things through that shouldn’t even exist in this realm.”

“Exactly,” Kael replied, his voice heavy. “They’re pawns, all of them. And when they finally release that energy, they’ll tear open enough holes in the Veil for the Wyrd itself to pour through. Once that happens, it’ll be nearly impossible to stop. If they succeed, we could be looking at another war with the Forgotten Ones.”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

'Yeah, this is extremely concerning.' Aric had brushed against the Wyrd, felt its insidious hunger. A war filled with such energy would mean ruin on an unimaginable scale.

“That explains why they were so organized,” Aric said. “But the energy they were gathering was rather controlled, bound somehow. They weren’t just blindly summoning the Wyrd.”

“They were following a pattern,” Kael said, his eyes narrowing. “A ritual designed to hold the Wyrd in check until they were ready to unleash it. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve been building this for years, maybe longer. And you—” He shook his head, his tone dropping. “You walked right into it.”

Aric huffed out a bitter laugh. “Well, it’s not like I had much of a choice once I was in that deep. Thought I’d learn something useful, figure out their motives.” He paused, glancing at his trembling hands. “Turns out, all I got was a curse eating me alive.”

“You're damn lucky to be alive, let alone coherent. Most who’ve touched the Wyrd this directly would have already lost themselves.”

Aric gave a grim nod, the gnawing burn of the Wyrd still clinging to his insides, a cold reminder of his miscalculation. “Luck has nothing to do with it. I managed to keep my head, but it’s like holding back a tide. Every time I think I’ve pushed it down, it claws its way back up.” He swallowed, the bitterness lacing his tone. “The Wyrd isn’t just power; it’s something alive… hungry.”

Kael remained silent for a moment, letting the weight of Aric’s words settle. Then, with a knowing look, he said, “You might be the most reckless fool I’ve met, but perhaps there’s still a way to undo this. I know someone who might be able to help… someone who’s been studying the Wyrd far more deeply than most would dare.”

Aric’s brow lifted slightly. “Who are you talking about?”

“Kirin, my sister,” Kael replied, his voice low and reverent. “She’s been researching the Wyrd’s energy, preparing herself to wield it as a weapon if needed. She’s the only one I know who might have a way to control that energy—or even remove it from you. She had even asked you to join her at the Imperial Palace.” He met Aric’s gaze, a glint of confidence brightening his crimson eyes. “If anyone can handle the corruption inside you, it’s her.”

Aric felt a flicker of unease, barely discernible but enough to make him shift slightly. There was no point in hesitation now. “Fine,” he said, voice steady. “Take me to her.”

Kael’s eyes narrowed, his mouth twisting into a scowl of pure annoyance. “Take you? You think I’m going to let you ride me?”

Aric smirked, folding his arms. “Well, do we have any other choice?”

Kael let out a frustrated growl, clearly irritated by the suggestion. His clawed hand flexed, a ripple of heat rolling off his form as he glared at Aric. “You think this is amusing? I don’t let anyone touch me, let alone sit on me.” He spat the words as if the very idea offended his pride.

Aric’s smirk only widened, adding a slight shrug for effect. “Guess that makes me special, doesn’t it? Or… are you suggesting we walk to Ignira?”

Kael let out a huff, his nostrils flaring as he visibly struggled to hold back a retort. “If this weren’t for Kirin…,” he muttered, half to himself, but the smoldering edge in his voice made it clear he was less than pleased.

With an irritated flick of his wrist, he finally stepped back, taking a long, heavy breath. “Fine. But remember, this is a one-time arrangement.”

His body rippled, scales erupting from his skin as his limbs elongated, transforming into the massive shape of a crimson dragon. His wings unfurled with a powerful _whoosh_, scattering leaves and dust around them. When the transformation was complete, he lowered his head, the faintest hint of amusement lingering in his glowing eyes.

“No one has ever laid a hand on me, let alone used me as a mount,” Kael growled, his voice deep and resonant in his dragon form. “If it weren’t you, Aric, and if you weren’t one foot in the grave already, I’d tear you apart for even thinking about it.”

Aric took a steadying breath, looking up at the towering beast before him. The Wyrd inside him surged slightly, as if sensing the latent power radiating from Kael’s form. He climbed onto Kael’s back, gripping the scales firmly. “You’ll survive the insult,” he muttered dryly.

“Hold on tight and try not to fall off. If you do, I’m not coming back to catch you.”

Without another word, he launched into the sky with a powerful push, wings cutting through the air with a low, thunderous **whoosh**. Aric felt the ground vanish below them as they shot up, the sudden force pulling at him, the rush of wind sharp and fierce against his skin.

The sky opened around them, stretching wide and boundless. As they gained altitude, Aric caught his breath, the expanse of Verdantis unfurling below. From up here, the lush, dense forests looked like swathes of emerald, interrupted by ribbons of rivers glistening under the pale light. The city clusters dotted across the land looked miniature, almost serene, in contrast to the chaos he’d just left behind.

A chill pricked at Aric’s skin as he gazed down. Despite the turmoil below, there was something hauntingly beautiful about the land from this height, almost… peaceful. Yet he knew that the peace was an illusion, concealing the hidden threats and fractures within Aeloria’s kingdoms.

He leaned slightly forward, raising his voice over the roaring wind. “You know, with your sudden appearance, the elves down there will definitely notice you.”

Kael let out a low rumbling laugh, wings slicing through the clouds. “And? What are they going to do about it?” He tilted his head just enough to cast a glance back at Aric. “You think I’m worried about a few jumpy archers?”

Aric chuckled darkly, his earlier concern seeming foolish now. “Right… What was I even worried about?”

Kael snorted, a burst of smoke trailing behind them. The view below gradually shifted as they neared Ignira, the lush green of Verdantis giving way to harsher, volcanic terrain—an ominous, scarred land. Far in the distance, the Crimson Citadel loomed, a fortress embedded within the mountains, exuding an aura fierce and unyielding.

The silence between them grew thick, and Aric’s thoughts drifted back to Kirin. He couldn’t deny a part of him was intrigued by her knowledge, and her approach to power. But he knew her help would come with its own set of risks. He could practically hear her already, challenging him, testing his every decision.

Kael's voice broke through his thoughts. “You realize she won’t coddle you, right?”

“Wasn’t expecting her to,” Aric replied, gaze fixed on the looming Citadel. “But I’ll take my chances.”

Kael let out a deep, satisfied hum. “Good. Because once she starts, there’s no turning back.”

Aric’s jaw set, his eyes hardening. “That’s the idea.”

...