Chapter 426: Report
By the time they reached the first great root bridge of Lorienya, the sun had fully risen. From above, the towers and platforms gleamed between leaves, serene, unaware of the battle that had just taken place beyond their sight. Lindarion paused one last time, looking back at the forest edge.
The peace felt thinner now, like a veil stretched over glass.
He could feel the world breathing unevenly.
And somewhere far to the south, something answered that breath with a pulse of its own.
—
The forest greeted Lindarion with silence when he landed. Not the tranquil hush he had grown used to in Lorienya, but the watchful kind, the quiet before a question is asked.
Ashwing folded his wings and shrank back to his smaller form, settling on Lindarion’s shoulder, the faint scent of ozone still clinging to his scales.
The guards who met him at the gates of the city bowed low. None dared ask where he had gone, though his hair gleamed faintly brighter than before, golden-white under the filtered light. Wordless, they opened the vine-woven doors to the council hall.
Inside, the air shimmered faintly with mana threads. Queen Sylwen and King Vaelthorn were already waiting, surrounded by elders and envoys.
The hum of the World Tree could be heard even here, soft, constant, like a heart beating beneath the floor.
"Prince Lindarion," Vaelthorn greeted, voice level but edged with concern. "We felt a disturbance in the southern winds. You went to see it yourself, didn’t you?"
Lindarion inclined his head. "Yes. There was a wound in the earth, no larger than a clearing, but pulsing with foreign mana. It spread into the air, mutating creatures drawn to it. I destroyed them."
Gasps murmured through the circle. The word mutating carried weight even here.
Sylwen’s eyes narrowed, green irises glowing faintly beneath her crown of woven leaves. "And the source?"
Lindarion’s gaze remained calm. "Not Dythrael’s. But it’s tied to something similar, older. A resonance beyond the pattern of life and decay. It shouldn’t exist this close to Lorienya."
The room darkened slightly as if the branches outside leaned closer to listen.
Vaelthorn leaned forward. "You say older. How certain are you?"
"Certain enough to advise caution," Lindarion said. "Whatever this essence is, it isn’t bound by the same law as mana. It echoes through the veins of the world."
The elders exchanged wary looks. Sylwen’s voice softened. "And yet you return without injury."
"I only faced fragments," Lindarion replied. "Echoes, not the source."
Ashwing puffed a small ring of smoke, muttering under his breath, "Echoes that still tried to eat us."
A few of the elves blinked, unsure whether to be alarmed or amused by the dragon’s speech. Lindarion didn’t correct him.
One elder, a thin woman with bark-patterned skin and gold-threaded hair, spoke at last. "If the corruption moves beneath the earth, we must strengthen the roots of the World Tree."
Sylwen nodded. "We will call the ward-weavers. Prince Lindarion, your aid will be required. The World Tree recognizes you now, it will answer your presence as it does ours."
Lindarion inclined his head. "I will assist where I can."
Vaelthorn studied him quietly, his tone turning almost fatherly. "You have grown since last we met, Lindarion of Eldorath. Too quickly for comfort, perhaps. But I sense your path won’t remain here long."
Lindarion’s eyes flicked toward the open balcony where night light spilled through. "No. It never does."
The king nodded once, as though expecting that answer. "Then rest for now. Tomorrow we begin fortifying the Tree’s wards."
Lindarion bowed slightly, turned, and left.
—
Night fell over Lorienya like ink over gold. The canopy glowed faintly from the inner light of the World Tree’s roots. Wind carried the scent of sap and starlight. But beneath that calm shimmer, the land still hummed wrong.
Lindarion stood on the terrace outside his quarters, armor set aside, the long coat he wore stirring faintly in the night breeze. Ashwing perched on the railing, tail twitching.
"You’re not going to sleep," the dragon said flatly.
"No."
Ashwing tilted his head. "Because you don’t trust the quiet."
Lindarion looked toward the distant horizon, the direction he’d come from. The faint pulse of corrupted mana still brushed at the edge of his senses, fading but not gone. "Because quiet doesn’t mean peace."
Ashwing hopped down onto the floor, shimmering slightly before stretching into a larger form, not his true one, but enough to lift Lindarion easily. "Then we’re flying again, huh?"
Lindarion’s lips curved faintly. "You complain too much for a creature who loves the sky."
"Because you keep flying into things that try to kill us."
"Then don’t let them."
Ashwing grumbled something indistinct but launched upward regardless, wings unfurling wide. The golden light of the city vanished beneath them, replaced by shadow and moonlight.
They flew south again, but higher this time, above the clouds. Lorienya’s glow spread out beneath them, a living web of luminescent roots and branches stretching farther than sight.
Beyond that, however, the color faded, the earth below grayed, lifeless in patches, like bruises spreading beneath skin.
Lindarion closed his eyes briefly, extending his senses. His mana resonated with the air, threads of power mapping the flow beneath.
The corruption was subtle, almost gone, but still there, threads of void energy seeping into the soil.
[System Notice: Foreign essence detected — resonance incomplete.]
[Warning: Unidentified signal attempting to synchronize.]
His jaw tightened. "Not again."
The hum in his core shifted slightly, his dragonic and divine affinities flaring in instinctive resistance. The system’s static faded.
Ashwing’s wings tilted as he looked down. "There’s nothing left alive there, is there?"
"No." Lindarion’s voice was low. "Just echoes."
They circled once more, the wind brushing silent through his hair. Far below, faint lights flickered along a ravine, fireflies or mana wisps, impossible to tell.
Ashwing banked back toward Lorienya. "You know you can’t fix the whole world yourself, right?"
"I’m not trying to fix it," Lindarion murmured. "I’m making sure it doesn’t break before I find the one who started this."
"Dythrael?"
Lindarion didn’t answer immediately. The stars reflected faintly in his golden eyes. "If not him, then someone who walks in his shadow."
Ashwing made a small sound, half sigh, half growl. "You’re scary when you talk like that."
"I’m tired when I talk like that."
The dragon huffed a puff of warm air and settled lower in flight, letting Lindarion’s hand rest lightly against the back of his neck. Below them, Lorienya’s glow came back into view, soft and warm like the heart of a lantern.
They descended quietly, landing just beyond the outer roots. The guards didn’t even notice. Lindarion dismounted and stood in silence, watching the World Tree’s immense form rise into the sky like a pillar of living light.
The pulse of its mana reached him again, calm, steady, powerful. But now he could feel it more clearly: a faint tremor beneath, distant yet certain, like something ancient testing the walls of its prison.
Ashwing looked up at him, voice low. "What now?"
Lindarion’s gaze stayed on the horizon. "Now," he said, "we prepare. Because whatever’s coming won’t stop at the borders of Lorienya."