Chapter 103: Descent into the Veiled Hollow!
After that conversation, three nights had passed by in a hurry. The atmosphere in the Dragon Clan seemed like the calm before the storm. Antares & Varus had been relatively quiet, but Damon knew they were planning something.
During those past 3 days, the Dragon Clan’s fortress became a cathedral of quiet preparation.
Damon had not slept in the conventional sense. Sleep was for those who could afford to lower their guard. His dreams, when they came, were like fragments of shrapnel, memory shards from the Primordial Era, visions of the Abyss, and whispers of versions of himself from the Abyss.
By the third night, the moon was fractured.
Not metaphorically.
Above the high towers of the world, the pale moon glistened in a hundred broken pieces, scattered fragments held together by invisible tension, suspended in a sky that looked like it had begun to crack.
It was the first time Damon had seen such a phenomena in his lift. He was standing at the high Eastern gate of the Dragon Fortress, with BloodReaper on his back in dormant blade form, sealed within the scabbard.
Behind him, Astralene was approaching quietly, walking as if she’d been born of the wind. Her attire was different. Gone were the regal robes of a scholar-sorceress. She wore a cloak of woven constellation silk, drawn over simple combat leathers carved with silver inscriptions.
Aetheric dust drifted from her every step.
Without a word, she joined him at the gate.
They said nothing for a while. The guards had long since cleared the path, bowing deeply at their departure. And yet, neither of them moved. Damon’s hand curled slightly at his side.
"You feel it?" Astralene asked softly.