Chapter 66: Absence

  Aeor kept his gaze on the sky. He let out a slow breath. It fogged in front of him, rose, and vanished into the dark like it had never been.

  The violet seams along his scaled mantle dimmed. The draconic plates softened into mist, then faded from his frame entirely.

  He stood in that silence for a heartbeat longer, letting the moment settle.

  Darkness closed around him.

  Aeor drew a thread of Essence into his palm. It kindled like a small flame, painting the dark in muted violet.

  He turned and moved toward Zoey.

  The light touched her first, outlining her shape against the ground. She lay flat on her back, chest rising and falling too quickly, her hair spread messily beneath her head.

  Aeor lowered himself beside her.

  "Well," he said, voice low, "you are full of surprises."

  Zoey let out a tired, mock laugh that broke into a breath at the end.

  "I've still got a few ideas brewing inside this brain of mine," she said. "Just you wait."

  Aeor's mouth twitched, the hint of amusement cutting through the exhaustion.

  "I will be looking forward to it," he said.

  Then, from within the dark, tiny footsteps skittered across the ground.

  Aeor turned as Baron burst into view, a streak of fur and momentum. She leapt without hesitation and landed squarely on Zoey's unguarded stomach.

  The impact knocked the breath from her in a sharp, startled burst. Zoey jolted upright with a wheeze, hands snapping out on instinct as Baron bounced once and then dangled midair, her paws caught securely in Zoey's grip.

  "Rude," Zoey muttered, staring at the dusktail.

  "You are quite strange, Baron," she said, rotating the dusktail slowly as if examining a particularly confusing artifact. "I wonder what is going on in that tiny little head of yours?"

  Aeor watched in silence as Zoey scrutinized the small creature from every angle. Baron, for her part, looked entirely unconcerned, ears perked, tail flicking lazily as though this were exactly where she intended to be.

  Zoey sighed and let the tension drain from her shoulders.

  "It's a good thing you're cute," she said.

  She fell back against the ground and pulled Baron in against her chest, arms wrapping around the dusktail in a possessive hug. Baron settled without protest.

  Zoey's gaze drifted upward once more, back toward the empty sky.

  Before long, the sound of wings reached them as the two Wyrmkin emerged from the dark, their silhouettes resolving only at the last moment before they struck the ground.

  Kelrothar landed first.

  The impact sent a muted pulse through the stone beneath them, dust lifting in a low ripple as his weight settled. A heartbeat later, Silvarn landed beside him, claws scraping briefly before finding purchase.

  "Are you two alright?" Kayneth asked from atop Kelrothar.

  Aeor inclined his head. "Yes. We are fine. What of the others?"

  "Mostly," Kayneth said. Her hand moved instinctively, brushing along Kelrothar's scales where faint cracks still glimmered with fading Essence. "Kelrothar and Rorick took some minor injuries."

  Aeor nodded once.

  "We should set up camp somewhere nearby," Velora said, her voice calm but firm as she stepped closer. "All of us need rest."

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  No one argued.

  They found a low hill not long after.

  Kelrothar and Silvarn moved first, climbing the rise and settling along its crest. Their massive forms cut the wind almost instinctively, scales angled outward as they lowered themselves into stillness. The hill became a barrier, the Wyrmkin a living wall.

  Aeor helped set up camp within that shelter. Packs were laid out, bedrolls unfastened, supplies placed with quiet efficiency.

  As he worked, his gaze drifted to Kayneth.

  She moved along the perimeter, driving four wooden poles into the ground at measured intervals. From each, she hung a rosary etched with Solaethi scripture.

  Aeor watched in silence.

  Once, while traveling toward Sil'Karrel, he had asked Korren about them, and the answer had been plain enough. Placed along the perimeter, the rosaries were believed to draw Sol's protection, shielding travelers from hostile spirits that roamed beyond the light.

  Aeor had used Threadgaze on them before. He knew what they were.

  Ordinary.

  No latent Essence. No hidden properties. No quiet hum beneath the surface.

  He was not the only one who knew. Most, if not all, who lived in this world did.

  And yet, the ritual endured.

  The thought drew his mind briefly back to Khorvalen. To the rites and ceremonies he had grown up with. Most of them, like these, were symbolic rather than functional. And yet he had always taken part. Had always fulfilled the obligations expected of him.

  Some habits endured even when their power did not.

  When the camp was nearly set, the question of a fire came up.

  There was hesitation at first. In hostile lands, flame was a beacon, an invitation for attention they could not afford. But this place was different. The darkness here was thick, almost like an oppressive fog, swallowing distance and softening edges.

  Even if they lit a fire, its glow would not carry far.

  And if something did come for them, that same light would let them see it first.

  After a brief exchange, the decision was made.

  A small fire would be lit, just enough to keep the camp visible.

  Time passed as they ate and recuperated. Conversation flowed between them, light at first, then gradually warming as the tension eased and the moment offered a brief respite. Eventually, the voices faded, until only the fire remained. The others drifted into sleep.

  Aeor stayed where he was, seated near the embers, watching sparks lift and vanish into the dark.

  A soft shift of weight drew his attention.

  Velora sat down beside him as the first watch began, her posture composed even in exhaustion.

  "Do you think Sar'Vareth still exists?" she asked.

  The question pulled Aeor from his thoughts as he turned to her.

  "I do not doubt what you have claimed," Velora said. "None of us do, not after what we have seen. But it matters whether our memories were altered, or Sar'Vareth itself."

  Aeor considered that.

  "So you think Sar'Vareth never existed," he said, "or that it stopped existing at some point."

  "I do not know what I am suggesting," Velora replied calmly. "These are not concepts I understood before coming here. And yet I find it difficult not to try and make sense of them."

  "I do not think we are meant to understand them," Aeor said. "At least, that is what Vaelkar implied."

  Velora's visage shifted subtly, like the suggestion of a raised brow.

  "We live alongside Primordial concepts every day," Aeor continued. "Life. Death. Time. Existence. We experience them, but we do not understand what they truly are, or how they shape the world around us."

  "Despite that, we can still shape them," Velora murmured.

  A spectral blade formed in her hand, black mist flowing along its edge.

  Aeor nodded once.

  "Do you think this is why the Archives maintains jurisdiction over the Aspects?" Velora asked, her eyes still on the dagger.

  "Perhaps," Aeor said. "But we know the task in front of us, however obscure the wording. We have to stop the First Solenar."

  Aeor's gaze shifted into the dark beyond the hill.

  "For that to happen," he continued, "we have to understand what he wields, even if we were not meant to. And there is no better way to do that than to step into a place that has been altered by Existence itself."

  For the next few days, they traveled across the continent. The darkness never loosened its grip, but it was not the only danger that followed them. Creatures that did not belong to this world emerged again and again, striking without warning.

  They avoided what they could, fleeing when it was possible. But not every encounter could be escaped.

  The constant fighting and the strain of navigating blind terrain slowed their progress, carving time away piece by piece. Still, on the fifth day, they reached ridgelines Aeor recognized at once. These heights lay close to Sar'Vareth.

  Tension spread through the group as they pressed on. No one knew what waited ahead.

  The Wyrmkin descended lower as they flew, skimming closer to the land. Below them, signs of habitation grew more frequent. Scattered vineyards appeared in broken stretches. Old trade roads cut faint lines through the earth. Fields sloped gently toward jagged cliffs.

  The sight unsettled them.

  None among them remembered this landscape.

  None except Aeor.

  Kayneth glanced back, her voice carrying through the wind. "Are we getting closer, Aeor?"

  "Yes," he replied. "We should see the city in a couple of —"

  His words cut off.

  A deep, booming sound rolled through the air, echoing from every direction at once.

  Chaos erupted.

  The sound hit like a verdict.

  It rolled through the dark in a single, crushing wave, and the world answered with pain. The Wyrmkin convulsed mid-flight. Their riders cried out as pressure slammed into them, hard enough that Aeor felt something rupture behind his eyes, warmth streaking across his face.

  Blood.

  His vision blurred as it ran, streaking downward, hot against skin that was already turning numb.

  The air thinned all at once, as if the sky had been hollowed out. Kelrothar and Silvarn bucked, wings stuttering as they lost purchase on flight.

  They descended.

  Cold followed.

  Not the chill of wind. Not mountain air. Something deeper and merciless.

  Aeor reached for the buckle at his saddle and saw his hands already whitening. Frost crawled over his fingers, stiffening joints, stealing sensation.

  In front of him, Rorick went limp.

  His body slumped to the side, half-hanging from the saddle, held in place by little more than straps and Silvarn's unsteady motion.

  Aeor forced his arm upward, fighting the plunge, willing his Essence to steady Rorick.

  Then the world broke.

  A massive slab of stone tore into existence before them.

  Silvarn struck it headlong.

  The impact detonated outward. Rock and debris exploded through the air as bodies were flung apart. Aeor summoned what scales he could from the ring, violet armor crawling over his arms just as the full force of the collision slammed into him.

  His thoughts dulled.

  Pressure surged again, heavier than before, crushing in from all sides. Consciousness slipped in and out as he fell, his body burning and freezing at once. Memories surged unbidden, clawing at his mind, trying to rewrite him, trying to replace what he was with something else.

  Absence.

  Clarity returned for a heartbeat.

  Aeor saw the Wyrmkin falling. Saw his companions tumbling through the dark.

  Then he saw more.

  Versions of them. Countless reflections, all falling in parallel, layered across fractured realities.

  Absence.

  He reached for his Essence, willed it forward, tried to anchor himself, to slow the fall, to grasp anything that would hold against the current dragging him down.

  Absence.

  The darkness split. A sky of burning cerulean flame revealed itself, vast and impossible. Time slowed, or perhaps ceased entirely, as Aeor stared into it. No thoughts formed. No fear followed. Only witnessing.

  Absence.

  Aeor opened his eyes.

  He lay broken against the ground, bones shattered, blood flooding from his mouth as dust drifted down around him. The world was silent.

  And still, even as his awareness thinned, his gaze remained fixed on the burning sky above.

  Absence.

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