★180
THIRD POV
Back to Veyra.
Obsidian Wyrm was standing before the Gate, thanks to their long necks, the Caraxis Family have perfect eyesight. He caught sight of a black silhouette approaching the stairs, and he lowered his head. The roaming Dragon-kin descended one by one, alighting upon the earth to join in the bow.
The silhouette slowly made his way through the stairs, a huge humanoid mass of shadow trailing behind him. It took him over an hour to reach the top, each step deliberate, as if the climb itself was part of a ritual.
"These stairs always make my back ache."
He muttered, rolling his shoulders once he cleared the final rise.
From the stretch of darkness trailing behind him, a voice answered, unobtrusive.
"Teleportation would have been faster, but that isn't possible in Kalidor. I suggested a portal. You declined."
"Traditions matter."
Je replied without turning.
"Once we start discarding them for convenience, we lose more than time."
The shadow offered no counter this time.
Wind swept across the summit, tugging at his robes as he looked toward the distant gate platform.
"Obsidian Wyrm."
He spoke with his usual tone, the tone of an old person.
"Old One."
The title carried no warmth, only acknowledgment.
"I'm positive two outsiders walked through this Gate, right?" he asked.
The Obsidian Wyrm hesitated, buying time as if the right arrangement of words might spare him.
A colossal arm formed from living shadow and shot forward without warning, fingers like forged obsidian locking around his long neck and lifting him clean off the ground.
His claws scraped uselessly against the dark limb, jaws parting in a silent wail as the pressure crushed his throat and sealed away any sound.
"Easy, Draal."
The Old One said, almost mildly.
"The youngling is the sole guardian of this Gate. His thoughts are crowded."
The shadow tightened for a heartbeat longer, just enough to remind the Obsidian Wyrm how fragile bone could be, then loosened.
The Caraxis Family Kin lowered it's head, coughing hard.
"Veyra is empty."
Draal spoke, his gaze never shifting from the poor dragon.
"There is nothing here to distract him. I see no reason he would forget recent bypassers."
The Obsidian Wyrm forced himself upright, pride stinging worse than the bruises blooming beneath his scales
"I did pick up a strange signature months ago, but it vanished the moment it appeared."
"The Gate."
Draal straightens.
"Later on, two dragons came out from the Black Desert. I'm one hundred percent sure they didn't use the Gate to get into Veyra. The eyepatch said something about a probable tear appearing in Veyra. We've been searching but we couldn't find anything."
"I don't care about the story he told you. Give me descriptions."
The shadow pressed.
"The guy has a red eye and an eyepatch. Short white hair dressed in a black cloak. The girl also has a black cloak, but her hair is short and black. She's a horn, too."
"Eyepatch and a horn, huh? Amateurs."
Draal spoke.
"Their names?"
The Old One asked.
"The male Void Dragon is hailing from the Silverwing Blood. His name is Nyxon. The lady's identity remains unknown."
"Nyxon, huh?"
The Old One rolled the name across his tongue as if testing it. He seems unimpressed in the same way he often was with Draal's impulsiveness.
"Thank you for the information. Keep an eye on the tear. It may not be a myth after all."
He turned toward the Gate, shadows dragging softly over stone, and Draal's towering frame folded in on itself, until a long serpentine body coiled where he had stood, gliding after the Old One without a sound.
They crossed the threshold together, into the Ember Depths.
Heat swallowed them the instant they stepped into Pyrral, the air thick and blistering, the horizon smeared with molten light. Dragons stationed at the Gate lowered their heads instinctively, wings tightening against their backs as the Old One passed.
Draal lifted his snout slightly, tasting the currents.
"I'm getting faint signals from the black mote."
He said in a low voice.
A dry chuckle slipped from the Old One, but it dissolved into a rough cough that bent him forward for a second before he straightened again.
"Don't push yourself, old man."
Draal muttered.
"He's cautious. I like that."
The Old One replied, recovering.
Draal's tail swayed once behind him.
"I know you don't want me to chase them. So what should we do?"
"Send word to the Queen."
At once, Draal's gaze swept over the assembled Void Dragons until it landed on one unfortunate soul near the edge of the platform.
"You."
He called. The dragon jolted upright so fast he nearly tripped over his own claws.
"Tell the queen she has a false child. Go."
The poor creature stumbled in his haste, wings flaring unevenly before he managed to throw himself into the air and disappear into the blazing sky.
Draal watched him shrink into a speck before glancing back at the Old One.
"So?"
The Old One began descending the endless stairs without looking back, each step steady despite the lingering rasp in his breathing.
"You know what we do."
Draal exhaled through his nostrils, then shrank again, scales compressing as he shifted into a smaller draconic form and took to the air beside him, gliding at shoulder height as they made their slow, deliberate descent.
.
.
.
Meanwhile, deep within the burning dominion of Pyrral, the Marquis stood before the vast Silver Palace.
In a realm of obsidian mountains, bleeding magma rivers, and skies stained with ember-red storms, the palace was an anomaly. It gleamed, making it stand out form the Realm itself.
Its walls were forged from a luminous silver metal that neither melted nor dulled beneath Pyrral's merciless sun. Spires curved upward like inverted blades, reflecting firelight in sharp, radiant streaks that could be seen from leagues away.
Where other structures in Pyrral seemed carved from ruin and ash, the Silver Palace stood immaculate amd untouched.
The Marquis adjusted his gloves, ready for the transition.
THYROS POV
From where I stood, the world turned, taking me to the kingdom below. Nyrral is just like Pyrral but a much darker one.
No sun scorched its skies, no forests broke its horizon, no volcanoes and molten rivers. Only endless jagged mountains stretched beneath a lightless firmament, their peaks like broken fangs biting into eternal dusk.
This was the seat of the Vaermithorh Family, descendants of the Ancient King Vermithys, rulers by pure inheritance and inevitability, Ten True Descendants.
The first bore the title Grand Abyss.
Second to fifth: Hollow Prince or Hollow Princess.
Sixth to eighth: Ash Duke or Ash Duchess.
The final two: merely Duke or Duchess.
(Void Dragons imitating Dragon's nobility system.]
The sixth True Descendant, Velros, carried the title Ash Duke.
In truth, Velros was the Regent Prince, the shadow monarch of Pyrral. While the Queen Silverhair ruled in brilliance, Velros ruled in absence. He governed what others overlooked and moved pieces no one knew were on the board.
I entered the dim palace, its corridors illuminated by pale, suspended motes that gave no warmth. The architecture mirrored the Silver Palace above, same alien metal, same flawless surface, but here it absorbed light rather than reflected it.
Silence followed me like a second cloak as I made my way to meet him. The throne room doors parted without announcement.
Alone in the room, he sat there.
Velros reclined upon a throne forged from the same silver-black alloy as the palace itself, one leg draped casually over the other, chin resting against his knuckles.
His hair spilled across his shoulders. I stepped forward and bowed.
"Any news, Thyros?"
He asked, voice smooth and unhurried. He didn't look at me immediately, for he didn't need to. The air itself reported to him.
"I'm sorry we couldn't find the source of yesterday's earthquake."
"What about the queen's scouts?"
If we couldn't, the queen has her own patrol unit.
"Neither side was able to identify the source."
"That's to be expected."
"Pardon?"
I asked, straightening.
Velros' gaze shifted to me at last, faint amusement flickering in them.
"It's something only a handful are aware of. I wasn't, initially. The Elders filled in the gaps."
A quiet pause.
"Oh?" I kept my tone neutral. "And who brought it to your attention?"
"Hollow Prince Vorath."
The name settled heavily between us.
'The Fourth True
Velros leaned back slightly as I absorbed it.
"Apparently, someone made mention of…"
His index finger lifted and began tracing a slow circle in the air.
The gesture needed no explanation. Every Void Dragon understood it.
I felt my jaw tighten as I muttered.
"Damn."
If even an Ancient Power refused to speak or inscribe it, then no lesser being would dare attempt it. Silence around a concept that absolute meant only one thing, not taboo or politics, but risk.
I exhaled once.
"An outsider?"
"Yes. It seems the Caraxis Family are getting rusty."
"Apparently. But they're best suited for the job. Please consider that before trying to replace them."
"I won't. The outsider must've been skilled enough to pass by unnoticed."
"So they must be within the forest. Regardless of their position in Pyrral, they can't move to the next Layer if that's their goal. And for the previous Gate, I'll deploy our Family members to strengthen the group."
"I know I can count on you, Marquis."
He said. I lower my head slightly before rising.
"It appears the Wanderer is looking for the outsider, too."
"Jeez, who the hell are they to get that Old Man walking again?"
The Wanderer, an ancient Void Dragon, is said to be older than the Ancient Powers themselves. He resides in Veyra and rarely moves. Now that he's on his feets, this matter might escalate beyond our control.
"Rest easy, Marquis. They're in the dragon's belly. Escape is no longer a concept."
"Certainly."
A slow, crooked grin pulled at my lips.
The doors burst open. She rushed in without permission, then immediately froze, as if realizing where she stood. A heartbeat later, she dropped to her knees.
"I beg your pardon."
"Any news, Baroness Wise?"
Velros asked smoothly, amusement already curling at the edge of his voice, as though he'd foreseen this interruption.
"Queen Silverhair has requested your presence!"
Wise announced, head bowed so low it nearly touched the obsidian floor.
"The Queen?"
I asked.
"Thank you for delivering the message."
The Ash Duke is acting strange. I noted. I've been with him for a while and I know when something's not right.
'He rarely smiles… yet that's all he's done today. What is he planning?'
"Message received. You may take your leave."
I dismissed her with a flick of my fingers. She bowed deeply, then hurried out as though afraid the floor itself might swallow her.
"About time."
Velros rose from his throne.
Each step he took was unhurried, his long crimson hair flowed down his back, swaying with quiet elegance, as if even the air parted respectfully before him.
Mid-stride, his abyssal-blue military cloak materialized from nothingness, draping over his shoulders. Sigils and ancient markings shimmered faintly across the fabric, relic-thread woven into its seams. The cloth did not fall like ordinary fabric, it coiled and shifted, moving like a restrained shadow bound to his will.
(Sigil represents his Family, Mark = his descendant status & Relics are like trophies.)
"Count."
He called out. The Void Dragon bearing that title was already stationed near the gate.
"Ash Duke."
"Gather the family and begin preparations."
He cave the order.
"I'm afraid rhat is my responsibility."
I replied, stepping in before he could overreach. Only the Marquis and the Ash Duke could summon the Vaermithorh bloodlines. The chain of command mattered.
Velros didn't argue.
"Nah. You're coming with me."
By the time he's shoulder to shoulder with me, darkness burst from him in an instant, swallowing space and hurling us forward. When it cleared, we stood at the gates of the throne room.
He kept walking as though nothing had happened. The massive doors opened on their own.
Void Dragons stationed inside lowered their heads in deference as he passed, clearing the path to the queen's hall.
I followed, though I bowed. He stopped at the centre of the chamber.
"Any news, Lady Silverhair?"
He asked. His tone was calm, formal, but there was an edge to it, as if he already expected the answer.
"I just got an anonymous message from the Caraxis. It appears like we have an intruder."
She replied.
"Apparently. What are your plans?"
"Something personal."
Replied Silverhair. Velros' brows knit slightly. Confusion, genuine or feigned, was hard to read on him.
"You're hiding something."
"Who among us isn't?"
"First, get to keep them."
He proposed.
"Then you've lost."
Her words hung in the hall.
The doors slammed open, three guards marched inside, dragging a foreigner between them. Bound in seals, movements restricted, the newcomer looked out of place, an outsider, judging by the lack of markings and the way the restraints suppressed whatever signature he carried.
Velros' expression shifted. He turned to look at me, surprised. I shrugged, showing indifference even though I'm Marquis because Velros chose me.
"They must've caught him within her domain."
I replied.
"Oh, I see."
...
..
.
Move back in time.
To be continued...