Veilstretch Series: CH9 Meeting the Team

Chapter 9: Meeting the Team
          Envictus clenched his jaw as the wiry vines tightened around his chest, constricting each breath. The twisted branches of the Grogorth trees seemed to reach for him with gnarled, skeletal fingers, their bark etched with ancient symbols that pulsed with a sickly green light.
          Beside him, Triestan struggled against his own clutching bonds, his face a mask of concentration as he attempted to mutter spells under his breath.
          "Triestan," Envictus said, his words struggling to break free from his lips. "I suppose you don't have any tricks up your sleeve for this predicament that we find ourselves in?"
          The older wizard shot him a wry glance. "If I did, do you think I'd still be entangled in this blasted foliage?" He said, grunting as a particularly large vine constricted around his neck.
          Just as black spots began to dance across Envictus' vision, a flash of iridescent scales caught his eye. From the shadows of the trees emerged a fierce-looking creature, twin daggers glinting in her clawed hands. Her black hair was knotted and braided up high behind her head.. It looked as if it was a draconid female. But they were very rare in these parts of Elyndor.
          Envictus had heard many stories, along the campfire, within his small town of Riversbend. They were a fierce but noble creature with the ability to transform themselves into a dracon - a much smaller variant of the dragon species.
          Triestan wiggled, as he tried to loosen the grip from these sentient trees. The vines held him in place as they tangled with his grey cloak and wiry beard. "Rukotem!" He shouted, his voice pinched and broken. "Hurry, please!"
          Behind the draconid warrior came a group of lithe figures, moving through the trees with uncommon grace. They wore clothing of leaves, branches and moss that matched the forest around them. Their pale green skin seemed to blend in with the vegetation, giving the appearance that they were part of it. Their almond-shaped eyes darted back and forth as they scanned the surrounding area. They were Koriann elves.
          Without a word, Rukotem leapt forward, her blades slicing through the vines with deadly precision.
          The Koriann elves followed suit, drawing slender swords that sang as they cut through the malevolent plants. Envictus felt the pressure around his chest ease as the vines fell away.
          Rukotem hauled him to his feet, her thin face twisted in a scowl. She was muscular with callused hands and scaled arms. She pulled Envictus away from the Grogorth tree, swatting him as he started to rub at his wrists.
          As the last of the vines withdrew, Envictus and Triestan stumbled to their feet, awkwardly brushing bits of leaves and twigs from their clothing. Rukotem regarded them with a sharp gaze, her reptilian pupils narrowing. "Triestan..." she said as she paused for a moment, tilting her head sideways. "I thought you would be able to handle a little bit of vegetation. You are a skilled wizard, right?" she asked, her forked tongue flicking out to taste the air.
          Envictus suppressed a smile as he caught sight of Triestan's flushed face. "Ah, well...you know," the wizard muttered, running a hand through his tangle of light brown hair. "I admit that this particular breed of vegetation is...more robust than usual."
          Triestan took a step forward, extending his hands with a warm smile. "Ruko," he said, "It's been a few moons since our paths last crossed. We owe you our thanks."
          The draconid sheathed her daggers with a fluid motion. "Malgor sensed a disturbance in Lowenshire," she said, her gaze flicking to Envictus. "He discovered that you used an echo to escape to the Grogorth. I was sent to investigate. Luckily I had help." She said, turning to face the Koriann elves.
          Triestan cleared his throat. "Forgive me for my lack of introductions. Rukotem, this is Envictus. The one I was sent by Malgor to retrieve. The one I have trained in Lowenshire."
          Rukotem snorted, her lip curling slightly as she bared her fangs at him. "Never heard of you," she said dryly. "Then again, I don't know much about the wizard's plans.
          Envictus inclined his head, meeting Rukotem gaze steadily. "Pleased to meet you. Not many draconid's in these parts, and your timing was impeccable."
          A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Rukotem's mouth. "Indeed. Though I fear our journey has only just begun."
          The Koriann elf leader stepped forward, his lean face etched with concern. "The Grogorth is a tree-acherous place for those unfamiliar with it's secrets." he said, his voice carrying the lilt of the windblown leaves.
          "Did you just make a pun?" Envictus asked, a smile growing from his lips.
          "Yes," the leader said flatly. "But in all seriousness, many enter the Grogorth, seeking refuge or riches, only to fall victim to the forest's malevolence."
          Envictus felt a chill run through him. The elf's words carried the weight of experience, of untold horrors witnessed beneath these ancient branches. He glanced over at Triestan, but the wizard kept his eyes trained on the Koriann leader.
          "I appreciate the warning," the wizard replied, "but we are pressed for time." He straightened up, squaring his shoulders. "What are your plans now?
          "We would be honored to escort you to the edge of the forest," the elf said, his sight encompassing both Envictus and Triestan. "The path ahead may be fraught with peril, and even the strongest among us may falter without guidance."
          Triestan nodded, his expression grave. "We accept your offer with gratitude," he said, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
          With a brief nod, the Koriann leader turned and began walking toward a narrow path, his soldiers following close in step.
          Envictus, Triestan, and Rukotem followed along, keeping pace as they weaved through the trees. Envictus soon fell into step beside Rukotem, her pointed ears twitching in agitation as they strode through the forest. Questions burned in his mind, but he held his tongue. The draconid's presence was both a comfort and a mystery, and he sensed that the answers he sought would come in their own time.
          For now, he focused on the path ahead, his senses attuned to the whispers of the Grogorth.
          "Did you know, many cycles ago I fought not one but three fellwurms at once?" Triestan asked, disrupting the silence.
          Envictus had heard the story before, and it was always more exaggerated with each telling. Last time Triestan fought two at once. The time before only the one. He knew better than to believe any story the wizard said at this point. But still, he couldn't help but ask, "Did you manage to kill all three?"
          "You bet your eyebrows I did!" Triestan roared out. "If I had a silver talon for every time I killed a fellwurm, then I'd have...well I guess three silver talons."
          Envictus stopped in his tracks, starring blankly at Triestan's face.
          "Why are you looking at me like that?" Triestan asked, narrowing his piercing blue eyes. "It was three fellwurms, and I'm pretty sure one of them had a double set of fangs."
          Envictus started walking again. "So, you managed to slay these giant centipede-like beasts - one possibly with two sets of fangs - all alone, without receiving any battle scars?" he scuffed, laughing at the thought of his own question.
          "You don't have to believe me, but that's the truth." Triestan replied.
          Envictus shook his head and let out a sigh, deciding he'd give it a rest for the remainder of their trek through this enchanted forest. However, another question returned to the forefront of his mind; He asked Rukotem, "You said a name earlier, Malgor? Who's that?"
          "That's where we're heading. He is the leader of this rebellion," she said, giving him a knowing look. "He is a very powerful wizard with incredible knowledge and abilities. He's the one who taught your mentor, Triestan here, everything he knows."
          This was news to Envictus. He always assumed that Triestan was a lone rogue. How could there be a wizard involved that Envictus had never even known about?
          Before Envictus could ponder this idea any further, the sound of a horn echoed throughout the trees around them.
          "We must not be far from Hightower." said Rukotem, slowing down before coming to a sudden halt. "We must tread carefully." she said, her hand resting on the hilt of her dagger.
          Triestan made sure to get ahold of Envictus' attention before speaking. "Hightower is no longer the city it once was," he said, his eyes scanning the shadows between the trees. "The Veridex Union has tightened its grip, and the streets are patrolled by those loyal to Valmael."
          Rukotem nodded. "The eyes of the Union are everywhere, and they will not hesitate to strike at any who oppose their rule." she said, her voice low and measured.
          Envictus sucked in a breath, feeling a new weight settle on his shoulders. "So, you're saying that we're walking into a hornet's nest."
          "More like a den of starving wolves," Triestan said, a smirk forming on his face. "It's the last place that they would expect a rebellion. Right beneath their noses." he said, flicking the tip of his own nose. "We'll need to keep a low profile."
          "Like fake names, false identities?" asked Envictus, raising an eyebrow. "I can be Roy Hawthorn, a simple traveler from the Midlands."
          "I am going to stop you right there," Triestan interjected, pointing a finger at Envictus. "We just need to blend in. People come and go from Hightower all throughout the day. We needn't draw any attention to ourselves."
          As they reached the edge of the forest, the Koriann elves bid them farewell, their expressions solemn. "May the stars guide your path," the leader said, his hand raised in a gesture of blessing. "And may you find what you seek in this dark time."
          Rukotem nodded to each of them, her reptilian eyes glinting in the sunlight. "Good luck," she said simply, her words holding the weight of unspoken promises.
          The three watched as the elves disappeared into the shadows, their movements silent and graceful. They turned as one and began to walk along the dirt road that stretched ahead of them, its surface lined with loose gravel and scattered weeds.
          As the sounds of the forest faded into the background, the city of Hightower loomed before them, its towering spires and sprawling streets a testament to its former glory. But beneath the facade of wealth and opulence lay a city divided, a city under the iron fist of Lord Valmael and the Veridex Union. They walked on, the afternoon sun beating down upon their heads as they approached the gates of Hightower.
          As they drew nearer to the city gates, they found themselves surrounded by a sea of people: merchants with their wares packed on carts, farmers leading livestock through the streets, and peddlers hawking their services and goods from the sidewalks. There were people of every race and creed - humans, elves, elvin, dwarves, , and more. They mingled together in a loud and raucous crowd, voices raised in argument and laughter alike, all jostling for a spot in the narrow streets.
          It was an intoxicating swirl of activity, and Envictus found himself swept up in the energy of it all, his senses overwhelmed by the sights and sounds around him. But as they drew closer to the gates, the throng of people began to thin out, and they found themselves left standing at the entrance to Hightower, alone in their thoughts and fears.
          "Act relaxed." Triestan said, nudging his elbow to Envictus.
          "I am relaxed." said Envictus, snapping back.
          An Arkan guard came over, leaning against his halberd which had a blade that shined in the midday sun. He had the typical bulky frame as almost all Arkans do and spoke to them in broken Caldoran, "What's wrong with that?" he said, his eyes narrowing to focus on Envictus' scarred arm.
          Envictus took a deep gulp, unable to speak at the moment.
          Triestan stepped forward, his voice soft and convincing. "A childhood accident," he said, his tone filled with just the right amount of sympathy. "This poor lad came face to face with a fire golem when he was only nine cycles. It was the last time he ever used his hand." He grasped Envictus by the shoulder and held up his right arm in front of the Arkan's face. "See all these scars?"
          The Arkan wrinkled his forehead as he stared at Envictus' disfigured limb, tilting his head sideways.
          Triestan shook Envictus' arm, his hands traveling up and down its length as he inspected every inch of his scarred skin. "Just horrible," he said, his face a mask of feigned concern. "He's lucky he survived at all. And now look at him..." He lowered Envictus' arm, casting a forlorn glance at the Arkan. "He can't work, he can't fight. He can hardly hold a spoon to feed himself."
          Triestan eyed the Arkan as he frowned. He then cocked an eyebrow at him, tilting his head sideways slightly, awaiting a response.
          The guard examined Envictus carefully, his dark eyes scrutinizing his appearance. After what felt like an eternity, the Arkan grunted and stepped aside, waving them through the gates with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Get lost," he growled, his voice rough and gravelly.
          Envictus let out a breath he had not realized he had been holding, his shoulders sagging with relief.
          As they entered the city, Rukotem leaned in close, her voice barely above a whisper. "That was a close one." she said, her eyes darting from side to side.
          "Indeed."
          "A fire golem?" asked Envictus, a look of shock on his face. "Those things are real?"
          "There is a lot out there that is real, Envictus." replied Triestan, looking over at him with a bemused smile. "Not all is made up in tales by a campfire."
          Envictus glanced over at him before placing his good hand on the hilt of his sword to check its location. "Yes I know," he replied, matching his pace with his teacher's stride.
          They were fully within the city of Hightower. Its tall buildings rose like giant monuments into the sky, their windows glinting in the sunlight and casting long shadows across the wide cobblestone streets. The crowds of people had thinned considerably as they delved deeper into the heart of the city, and they found themselves moving through a steady stream of citizens going about their daily business.
          Envictus was in a trance as he walked passed these enormous buildings. He had never seen anything like it. From the massive skyscrapers to the ornate decorations that littered the nearby parks. It was all a wonder to him. The sheer size of the city alone was enough to make anyone feel minuscule by comparison. But it wasn't just the sheer magnitude of the structures that drew Envictus' attention.
          Hightower was separated by two distinct districts; the Providence and the Washed. The Providence was for those who belonged to the upper class. The wealthy landowners, politicians and nobles that frequented lavish establishments. The latter was opposite.
          Envictus stopped on the walkway, leaning against a rail that overlooked the district of the Washed below them. His eyes widened as he took in the crumbling infrastructure and the makeshift shelters that dotted the landscape of the Washed. The once-grand buildings, now little more than ruins, their walls cracked and crumbling, overgrown with thick vines and moss, their windows shattered and boarded.
          "What happened there?" Envictus asked, his voice filled with a mix of horror and curiosity.
          Triestan sighed, his eyes filled with a deep sadness. "Many cycles ago, Valmael orchestrated the destruction of the dam that once overlooked Spirefield. It would feed water directly to the farmers below and to the many houses that once stood there." he explained, his voice heavy with the weight of history. "The resulting flood devastated the district, leaving it in ruins and submerging much of it. Many people perished that day and so many more after.
          Envictus shook his head, his heart aching for the people who had suffered. "And the survivors? What are they doing now? he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
          "They struggle to make ends meet. The water flooded their farms. The crops rotted and died. People starve." Ruko stated sadly, her forked tongue flicking out in the air. "This is the Washed now." she said, lowering her head.
          Envictus sighed, letting out a sad breath as he turned from the sight. He had been told about some of the horrors of the world, but seeing it first hand made him realize how much more there was still to learn.
          They pressed on along the cobblestone road, the uneven stones worn smooth by countless footsteps over the years, led by Rukotem to an unknown destination.
          "We're approaching the Magic Academy," she said, her voice filled with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. "Remember, we must be cautious. The walls have ears, and our enemies could be anywhere." she said, her eyes fixed on the imposing structure that loomed ahead of them.
          Envictus nodded, his heart pounding in his chest as they drew closer to their destination. He knew that the Academy was not just a center of learning, but a training ground for Valmael's dark army. But he also knew that somewhere within its walls, the resistance led by Malgor was working tirelessly to oppose the tyrant's rule.
          As Rukotem led Triestan and Envictus down the dimly lit corridor of the Magic Academy, the air grew thick with the scent of old parchment and the faint hum of residual magic. The hallway was lined with ancient tapestries depicting scenes of long-forgotten battles and mystical landscapes, their colors faded but still vibrant enough to hint at the academy's storied past.
          At the end of the corridor, Rukotem paused before two towering wooden doors, their surfaces carved with intricate patterns of entwined vines. The wood, dark and polished from centuries of use, bore the marks of countless hands that had pushed them open before. With a firm push, the doors creaked open, revealing the grand expanse of Malgor's classroom beyond.
          The room unfolded before them like a hidden theater, its vast semi-circular design immediately drawing the eye to the central stage below. The tiered seating, arranged in ascending rows, formed a perfect arc, allowing every student a clear view of the circular platform in the center.
          Envictus's eyes widened as he took in the grandeur of the room. "This... this is incredible," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've never seen anything like it."
          Triestan nodded, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "This is where the most profound knowledge of our world is shared," he said, his tone filled with respect. "And where the foundation of our fight will be laid."
          Malgor stood in the center of the room, his voice resonating with authority as he explained the intricacies of a complex spell to the students who sat in rapt attention. His hands moved gracefully, tracing symbols in the air that flickered with magical energy.
          As Rukotem, Envictus, and Triestan stepped into the room, Malgor's gaze shifted to them, his expression momentarily unreadable. Without missing a beat, he finished his explanation and then, with a wave of his hand, dispelled the projection. "That will be all for today," he announced, his tone suddenly brisk. "Continue your studies, and we will resume tomorrow."
          The students exchanged puzzled glances but quickly gathered their things, casting curious looks at the newcomers as they exited the room in a quiet, orderly fashion. Malgor remained still, watching them leave before turning his full attention to Rukotem, Envictus, and Triestan.
          "Malgor, old friend," Triestan greeted with a nod, his voice respectful yet urgent. "We need to talk."
          With a nod of understanding, Malgor gestured for them to follow. Instead of leading them back into the labyrinth of the Academy's corridors, he turned towards the far side of the classroom, where a large, ornately carved door stood. He pushed it open, revealing his private office--a space filled with ancient texts, scrolls, and a vast array of artifacts displayed on shelves and pedestals. The office was dimly lit by a single chandelier of floating orbs that cast a warm, golden light, creating an atmosphere of quiet intensity.
          Malgor moved swiftly across the room, his robes brushing against the stone floor as he approached a tall, imposing bookcase at the back of the office. Without hesitation, he reached up and pulled an old, leather-bound tome from the shelf. There was a soft click, and the bookcase slid aside, revealing a narrow, stone passageway descending into darkness.
          "Follow me," Malgor said quietly, his voice carrying a note of urgency. He stepped into the passage, leading them down a winding staircase that spiraled beneath the Academy. The walls of the passage were close and cold, the air growing cooler as they descended. The only light came from the small, flickering orbs that Malgor conjured, casting eerie shadows on the ancient stone.
          The staircase finally opened into a hidden chamber, circular, with high, vaulted ceilings. The room had a chair and a small, polished table near the edge of the chamber, upon which rested a set of delicate, silver instruments. A small shelf contained tools of some sort and the air was thick with the scent of dust and old magic.
          Malgor moved with purpose, his eyes sharp as they flickered over Envictus. "Before we proceed," he began, his voice low and commanding, "there is something that must be done."
          Envictus followed Malgor's gaze, curiosity mixed with a hint of apprehension. "What is it?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
          Malgor turned to face him fully, his expression serious. "Your blood, Envictus. When you touched the Obelisk, you became one of the few to survive such an encounter. We need to know if that contact altered you in some way--whether Elyndor's Blessing flows through your veins or if something else now resides there."
          Triestan, standing nearby, nodded in agreement. "The Obelisk is a powerful Artifact of Illation. If it left any trace within you, we need to understand it. This could be crucial to our cause."
          Envictus hesitated for a moment, then nodded, extending his arm. The memory of the Obelisk's touch still haunted him, the burn-like scar a constant reminder of that fateful day. "And this test... what will it tell us?"
          Malgor took up a slender, silver needle, its tip gleaming under the faint light. "It will show us if anything in your blood has changed. But only time will tell what it truly means."
          He pricked Envictus' finger with practiced precision, allowing a small stream of blood to flow into a crystalline vial. Malgor watched the vial intently, his brow furrowed in concentration. For a moment, nothing seemed unusual--the blood simply pooled in the vial, dark and ordinary.
          Malgor sealed the vial with a cork, his expression unreadable. "I will need to run further tests," he said, placing the vial carefully on the table. "For now, we must focus on another matter."
          As the group began to turn away, preparing to move on to the next chamber within these hidden walls, the vial sat undisturbed on the table. Unbeknownst to them, a faint blue glow began to emanate from the blood within, pulsing softly in the dim light. The glow intensified briefly, then faded back into darkness.
          Malgor pressed his hand against the wall, triggering a hidden mechanism that slid the stone aside, revealing a narrow corridor. Without a word, he led the group into the passage, the walls close and cool, illuminated by faintly glowing runes. The corridor was short, and within moments, they emerged into a large, cavernous room.
          Envictus' eyes were immediately drawn to the two figures gathered around the table. A woman and man stood there, deeply engrossed in discussion, their faces partially illuminated by the soft light.
          The woman's brow was furrowed in concentration as she traced a path across one of the maps with her finger, while the man leaned in closer, his expression intense and focused. They were so absorbed in their conversation that they didn't notice the newcomers at first.
          The atmosphere was heavy with the weight of plans and unspoken intentions. Rukotem, her presence commanding yet calm, moved to stand beside them.
          "Let's make this brief," Rukotem said, her voice steady as she gestured to the first figure. "This is Varis."
          The man she indicated turned, his expression guarded, as if weighing Envictus with his eyes. Varis was tall and lean, his dark hair falling just past his shoulders, framing sharp features that spoke of a life lived in the shadows. He nodded curtly, his eyes narrowing slightly as they met Envictus's. There was an air of restrained power about him, a sense of someone who held his cards close.
          "And this," Rukotem continued, her tone softening just a fraction, "is Lyria."
          The woman beside Varis turned, and Envictus felt his breath catch for a moment. Lyria. He recognized her immediately--those eyes, that determined set of her jaw. Memories of the past, of shared struggles, flashed through his mind. But he said nothing, keeping his expression neutral, though his heart hammered in his chest. She gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod, acknowledging the past without words.
          Varis stepped forward, breaking the silence that hung between them. "My name is Aenrael Varis," he said, his voice sharp and clear. "But everyone just calls me Varis." There was a hint of something in his tone--irony, perhaps, or bitterness. His eyes flicked over Envictus, assessing him with a keen, almost predatory gaze.
          "My heritage," Varis continued, his voice low, "is not something I boast about. My parents were Nightshades--followers of Etenos. They embraced the darkness, reveled in it, until it consumed them. But that's not why I'm here." He paused, as if debating whether to say more, then shrugged it off. "Let's just say, I have my reasons."
          Varis took a step closer, his gaze never leaving Envictus. "You," he said, his tone dripping with skepticism, "are the one who survived touching an Artifact of Illation. Impressive, or perhaps just lucky." His eyes narrowed, and there was a flicker of disdain in his voice. "But luck doesn't make a soldier, and certainly not a leader."
          He glanced at Rukotem and Triestan, then back at Envictus, his expression hardening. "You've got a lot to prove. Being here means nothing if you can't hold your own when it matters. We're not just playing games in these halls--we're facing something far darker, far more dangerous than anything you've likely encountered." He leaned back, crossing his arms. "I'll believe you're worth something when I see it with my own eyes. Until then, you're just another liability."
          There was a tense silence in the room, Varis' words hanging in the air like a challenge. Envictus felt the sting of those words, but he held his ground, meeting Varis' gaze with quiet determination. He could sense the doubts, the suspicion, but he knew that proving himself wasn't just about words--it would come down to action, to what he could do when the time came.
          For now, he let the moment pass, knowing that trust wasn't something that would come easily in a place where the stakes were this high. But he also knew that he wouldn't let Varis' doubts--or anyone else's--define him.
          Lyria stepped closer to Envictus, her presence a calm amidst the tension that lingered in the air. She placed a gentle hand on his arm, her voice low and soothing. "Don't worry about Varis," she said, casting a quick glance at the man standing a few steps away, his back partially turned and his posture rigid. "He's been through a lot recently. We all have, but he lost someone close to him not long ago. It's still raw."
          Envictus nodded, his eyes briefly meeting Varis' before returning to Lyria. He could see the pain in Varis' eyes, the way his hands were clenched at his sides, the barely restrained frustration. But it wasn't just grief driving Varis' irritation--it was something more personal, something tied to Lyria. Envictus could see the way Varis' gaze lingered on her, the unspoken feelings that made her easy rapport with Envictus all the more difficult for him to bear.
          Lyria didn't seem to notice Varis' unease, or if she did, she chose to ignore it. Instead, she focused on Envictus, her voice growing firmer as she spoke. "I'm here because I can't stand by while my father remains a slave on those Arkan ships. He's a navigator, one of the best, and Valmael's forces have kept him shackled for years. I escaped from that life, but I've been on the run ever since, trying to find a way to free him."
          Envictus felt a pang of recognition, memories of their shared time on the Arkan slave ship rushing back. "I remember you," he said quietly. "You never gave up, even when the rest of us had."
          Lyria gave him a small, sad smile. "Hope was all we had back then. It's what's kept me going. Joining this rebellion is my way of fighting back--and maybe, just maybe, it's how I'll finally save him."
          Varis, who had been watching the exchange with a growing sense of irritation, finally stepped forward, his voice cutting through the air with a sharp edge. "You've got a lot of questions, don't you, Envictus? Curious about everyone's story, eager to learn why we're all here. But what about you? Why are you really here?"
          Envictus met Varis' glare with a steady gaze, refusing to be intimidated. "I'm here to end this war," he said firmly. "To stop Valmael and bring General Rawl to justice. He destroyed my home, my family, and my friends. I've lived with that pain every day, and I won't rest until I see him fall."
          Before the tension could escalate further, Rukotem stepped forward, her imposing draconid form commanding attention. "We are all here for a reason," she began, her voice calm yet filled with authority. "And we must not forget that. My brother, Metokur, is still trapped under Valmael's control, forced to serve his dark purpose. I fight every day to free him, but this war is about more than just one life. It's about stopping the spread of Valmael's evil, about ensuring that no one else suffers the way we have."
          Rukotem shifted her weight, her scales catching the dim light of the chamber as she addressed the group. "There is one more member of our team, Thalric Voss," she began, her voice carrying a note of reluctant admiration. "But he's been away for a few days on a mission. Thalric is... well, let's just say he's hotheaded, always eager for a fight. In truth, I'm somewhat thankful he isn't here for introductions. He's not exactly known for his patience."
          She paused, a small smile playing on her lips as she glanced at the others. "But don't mistake that for a lack of skill. Thalric is as fierce as they come, a warrior who knows no fear. When he returns, you'll see for yourselves why he's an invaluable part of this rebellion."
          Malgor stepped forward, his robes brushing the stone floor with a whisper. "Thalric will return at sunrise," he reassured the group, his voice steady and confident. "He may be impulsive, but he's reliable. He's been a part of this fight from the beginning, and he knows what's at stake."
          Malgor's gaze swept across the room, settling on each member of the group in turn. "As for myself," he continued, "I have been with the Academy for centuries, long before Valmael's rise to power. I've seen the changes he's wrought, the darkness he's spread across Arcocen. My role in this rebellion is to provide guidance, knowledge, and the resources we need to turn the tide against him. But let me be clear--if something goes wrong, I will do nothing to save you."
          He let the weight of his words hang in the air, his expression unyielding. "I am the tip of the spear in this rebellion, the one who has been positioning pieces for centuries. If my cover is blown, everything I've worked for will crumble. Valmael himself handpicked me to teach at this Academy, to be one of his trusted advisors. It's the perfect disguise, and it's one I won't risk lightly."
          Malgor moved to the table, his hand hovering over a large map of Elyndor. "I'm not here to rush into battle without a plan. I've seen too many attempts fall apart because of impatience. If we are to succeed, we must be methodical, strategic. If this group fails, I will wait another 200 years if necessary, to find another team, another opportunity to strike. Victory is the only thing that matters, not the speed at which we achieve it."
          He looked up from the map, his gaze piercing. "I won't sacrifice the chance for victory on reckless ambition. You're here because you have potential, but know this--if any of you jeopardize this operation, I will not hesitate to abandon you."
          Envictus frowned, a wave of confusion washing over him. He had come here with the belief that their fight was against General Rawl, the man who had destroyed his village, his family, and his life. But now, hearing Malgor speak of Valmael, he felt a deep uncertainty. "I thought we were here to stop General Rawl," he said, his voice laced with doubt. "He's the one who led the attack on my home, who's done so much damage. Isn't he the one we should be focusing on?"
          Rukotem, Lyria, and Varis exchanged glances, a silent understanding passing between them. It was Lyria who spoke first, her tone gentle but firm. "Stopping General Rawl is important, Envictus. He's a monster, and he needs to be held accountable for what he's done. But he's not the true power behind all of this. Rawl is just a weapon--a tool wielded by Valmael."
          Varis nodded in agreement, his earlier tension now replaced by a grim resolve. "Rawl is dangerous, yes. But he's only dangerous because Valmael made him that way. If we take out Rawl, Valmael will simply replace him with another General, another puppet to carry out his will. To truly end this, we need to strike at the source."
          Rukotem's voice was a low rumble, filled with the weight of her conviction. "Valmael is the head of the beast, Envictus. If we don't stop him, nothing we do will matter in the long run. He'll continue to corrupt and destroy until there's nothing left of the world we once knew."
          Envictus felt the weight of their words, the enormity of the task ahead settling in his chest. This wasn't just about revenge for what had been done to him--it was about something much larger, a battle for the very soul of Arcocen. For what had been done to countless others besides himself.
          "Then we stop Valmael," Envictus said, his voice filled with determination. "For all of us."
          Triestan who had been quietly observing the group, stepped forward with a thoughtful expression. "We're all bound by a common purpose now," he said, his voice calm yet firm. "But purpose alone won't win battles. We need to learn to fight together, to understand each other's strengths and weaknesses. It's crucial that we become a cohesive unit. And the first step to that is simply getting to know one another."
          Envictus turned toward his new allies, a tentative smile on his lips. "Shall we, then? I've only ever heard tales of Hightower's wonders, and I must admit, I'm quite eager to see all it has to offer."
          Lyria returned his smile, her sea-green eyes sparkling with anticipation. "I've always wanted to chart the streets of this city."
          Varis, however, seemed hesitant, his brow furrowed in thought. "Is it wise to venture out so openly? We are not exactly inconspicuous."
          "Are you kidding?" Lyria retorted, her excitement clearly undeterred by Varis's caution. "How often do we get the chance to explore Hightower in such times? We'll be careful, Varis. But we can't hide underground forever."
          Varis sighed heavily but accepted with a nod.
          With Triestan's suggestion in mind, Envictus, Rukotem, Lyria, and Varis decided to explore the city of Hightower together.
          Hightower was an old and massive city, once the capitol of east Elyndor, but now a place where old grandeur met the creeping shadows of Valmael's influence. The city was a maze of towering spires and wide, cobblestone streets, with buildings that seemed to rise endlessly toward the sky.
          As they walked, Envictus couldn't help but marvel at the architecture, the way the buildings seemed to defy gravity, their spires reaching towards the heavens. He noticed how Lyria's eyes widened with wonder, her fingers itching to trace the intricate patterns etched into the stone.
          They stopped at a small bakery, drawn in by the scent of freshly baked bread and the glimmer of jewel-toned pastries in the window. Inside, the air was warm and fragrant, the shelves lined with loaves of every shape and size. Envictus selected a golden-crusted bun, studded with dried fruits and nuts, while Rukotem opted for a savory pastry filled with spiced meat and vegetables.
          "Do you know what this is called?" said Rukotem, her mouth full of food as it was difficult to hear her speak. "This is amazing."
          Envictus laughed aloud at Rukotem's passion for food. He knew it was due to her draconid heritage but was still surprised by how voracious she could be when given the opportunity. Rukotem possessed an innate curiosity that Envictus admired and would often find himself pulled along by her enthusiasm for new experiences.
          Varis purchased a dark ale from the shopkeeper and quickly drank half the bottle with ease.
          He lowered the glass and smiled before walking over to a nearby table and gesturing to the others. "Join me for a drink?"
          Varis filled all of their glasses with the ale he had purchased.
          Envictus picked up his own glass and examined it curiously. "This seems too thin to be ale," he remarked, taking a small sip. The amber liquid was cold and refreshing, with a faint hint of citrus. As the taste of hops danced on his tongue, Envictus found himself wondering where such a beverage could possibly come from.
          "It's good," said Rukotem after taking a long swig from her own glass. She grinned playfully at Envictus before quickly downing the rest of her drink and then beckoning over the shopkeeper for another.
          Varis raised an eyebrow at her actions but remained silent as he continued sipping his ale, his expression unreadable.
          As they ate, they talked, their conversation flowing easily despite their differences. Envictus found himself drawn to Lyria's quiet strength, the way she spoke of the oceans and the stars with a reverence that matched his own for the magic that flowed through his veins. Rukotem entertained them with tales of her battles, her words painted vivid pictures of clashing swords and roaring flames.
          They left the bakery as sun shafts began to stretch across the rooftops in wide ribbons of gold. The streets were crowded now, filled with people going about their daily business. Despite the pressing dangers of Valmael's rule, the atmosphere of Hightower seemed to have changed little --the distant voices of children playing echoed among the rooftops, filling the air with a sense of peace.
          Next, they found themselves in a park, the grass soft beneath their feet and the trees providing a welcome respite from the fading sun. Envictus leaned back against a trunk, his eyes drifting closed as he listened to the sounds of the city, the laughter of children and the distant hum of machinery.
          For a moment, he could almost forget the weight of the task that lay before them, the looming shadow of Valmael and the war that threatened to engulf the Arcocen. Here, in this moment, they were simply a group of friends, bound by the threads of fate and the hope for a better tomorrow.
          Varis walked over to Envictus and sat down beside him, his posture relaxed and his expression thoughtful. "You know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want to trust you."
          Envictus nodded, not certain what to say but knowing that this could be an important moment between the two.
          "The thing is, Envictus, it's hard to trust anyone these days." Varis said, lowering his head in thought. "As I've said before, my parents were Nightshades. I remained hidden within this...world. They taught me about dark magic and death spells. They taught me how to hide in the shadows and follow their dark savior Etenos. But I didn't want to follow him or them. I wanted to help people, I still do. My parents were wrong about many things in their teachings, but they were right about one. Trust isn't free and you must be careful who you give it to."
          Without letting Envictus reply, Varis stood up and walked toward the other members of the group. He appeared lost in his thoughts as he approached them.
          Envictus followed suit as the group waved for him to come join them.
          The sunlight was almost gone as they made their way out of the park toward another gathering area within Hightower.
          "Is it almost time to return to the Academy?" asked Varis.
          Rukotem glanced around the group, her eyes meeting those of Lyria's and Envictus'. "I had one more stop before we end the night." she said, her grin growing wide, as she guided the group into one of the nearby buildings.
          "And I thought I was the navigator." Lyria said, her sea-green eyes rolling slightly.
          The group found themselves entering an old tavern tucked away in one of Hightower's quieter streets. The tavern was a relic of the past, its wooden beams darkened with age, and the air inside filled with the smell of ale and roasted meat.
          Rukotem led the way to a table in the corner, the flickering light of the oil lamps casting a warm glow over the scarred surface. A fire crackled in the stone hearth, adding to the cozy atmosphere.
          Envictus and Lyria sat together, their voices low as they reminisced about the old days when they were on the Arkan slave ship together. "Do you remember the nights we used to sneak up to the deck, just to catch a glimpse of the stars?" Envictus asked, a small smile playing on his lips.
          Lyria smiled, a wistful expression crossing her face. "How could I forget? You were the only one who showed me kindness in that wretched place." she said, her eyes distant as she recalled those memories. "We used to talk about what we'd do if we ever got off that ship," she said softly. "I never imagined it would lead us here, fighting against something so much bigger than ourselves."
          Their eyes met, and for a moment, the rest of the world seemed to fall away. In that instant, they were back on the ship, huddled together in the darkness, their hands clasped tightly as they clung to the hope of freedom.
          But as their conversation continued, Varis, who had been watching them from across the table, grew visibly frustrated. He shifted in his seat, his expression darkening as he watched Lyria laugh softly at something Envictus said.
          Rukotem, noticing the change in Varis' demeanor, leaned over and spoke quietly to him. "Give her time," she said, her voice a soothing hiss. "The heart is a complicated thing, and wounds take time to heal."
          Varis shook his head, his jaw clenched tight. "I know, I thought maybe, after everything we've been through..."
          "You're both here to fight for something greater. Don't let jealousy cloud your judgment."
          Varis sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked away. "It's not that simple, Ruko," he muttered, though he knew she was right. He was drawn to Lyria, but it was clear that her feelings for him weren't the same.
          Rukotem patted Varis on the back. "Let's get some ale in you. I have a feeling you're going to need it tonight."
          As the night wore on, the tavern grew louder and more boisterous, the patrons' inhibitions melting away with each mug of ale. A few were singing throughout the hall, dancing with each other and standing on tables.
          Envictus leaned back in his chair, a contented smile playing across his lips as he savored the last drops of his mead. But his reverie was short-lived, shattered by the sound of Varis' voice cutting through the din of the tavern.
          "So, Envictus," Varis said, his words slurring slightly as he fixed the Elvin with a pointed stare. "What makes you think you're fit to lead this little rebellion of ours? From what I hear, you're just a glorified courier with a fancy sword." he said, waving around an imaginary sword. "It makes one wonder why Triestan appointed you on this team in the first place."
          Envictus tensed, his grip tightening on his mug as he met Varis' gaze. "I never claimed to be a leader," he said, his voice carefully controlled. "But I've seen firsthand the suffering brought on by Valmael and his reign. It's my duty to try and stop it, with or without you."
          Varis scoffed, his eyes narrowing. "Duty? What do you know of duty? You're just a half-breed with delusions of grandeur. You think just because you have some fancy magic, you can take on the Aen Seidr? Paper break, they all have magic stronger than you by tenfold."
          Envictus rose to his feet, his chair scraping loudly against the wooden floor. "That may be so," he replied, his voice dangerously calm. "But I can't just stand by and do nothing while innocent lives are being destroyed."
          Varis stood as well, his face flushed with anger and drink. "You're a fool," he spat, his hand drifting towards the dagger at his belt. "You'll lead us all to our deaths with your misguided idealism."
          For a moment, the tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with the promise of violence. But then Lyria stepped between them, her hands raised in a placating gesture.
          "Enough," she said, her voice firm and commanding. "We're all on the same side here. Fighting amongst ourselves will only weaken us."
          Envictus and Varis glared at each other for a long moment, their jaws clenched and their fists balled at their sides. But finally, slowly, they both relaxed, the fight draining out of them like water from a sieve.
          "You're right," Envictus said, his voice rough with emotion. "We have a common enemy. We can't afford to be divided."
          "I know I'm right," said Lyria. "Now would you two simmer down before we draw any unwanted attention."
          Varis nodded, his expression still wary but no longer hostile. He glared at Envictus one last time before sitting back down, though the tension between them remained thick in the air. Envictus took a deep breath, trying to push down his anger as he returned to his seat beside Lyria.
          As the evening wore on, the group decided it was time to head back to the Academy. They left the tavern in silence, the cool night air a sharp contrast to the warmth of the tavern. The streets of Hightower were quieter now, the bustling activity of the day having given way to a peaceful stillness.
          As they stepped out into the night, Lyria glanced up at the sky, where the stars twinkled brightly above them. With a playful grin, she turned to the others and said, "Well, it looks like it's up to me to get us back to the Academy. After all, navigating by the stars is in my blood."
          "Think you can manage to get us there without running into any more trouble?" Envictus said, a slight grin forming on his face.
          Lyria winked at him. "I haven't steered us wrong yet, have I?"
          Varis exchanged piercing glances with Rukotem as Lyria took the lead, her eyes occasionally flicking up to the night sky to check her bearings. The streets of Hightower were a maze of shadows and moonlight, but Lyria guided them confidently, her steps sure and steady as if she were back on the deck of a ship, reading the constellations.
          As they walked, the tension from earlier in the night began to ease, the camaraderie of the group slowly returning with each shared smile and quiet laugh. Lyria's lighthearted approach helped to lift their spirits, turning the journey back into a moment of connection.
          Eventually, they reached the front of the Academy. Lyria turned to the group, her smile still lingering. "See? I told you I'd get us here."
          Envictus nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "I never doubted it for a second."
          Once inside, they descended back into the secret chambers beneath the Academy. The familiar coolness of the stone walls greeted them as they entered the room where their beds awaited. It was a stark contrast to the warmth of the tavern, but it was also a reminder of the seriousness of their mission.
          As they settled into their beds, the group was quiet, the earlier tension still lingering in the air. But there was also a sense of resolve, a shared understanding that despite their differences, they were all in this together. The night faded away, and the chamber fell into silence as sleep claimed them one by one, preparing them for the battles that lay ahead.
          The night had deepened, and the silence within the Academy's hidden chambers was profound. The only sound was the occasional flicker of torchlight against the stone walls, casting long shadows that danced like phantoms in the dark. In a secluded chamber far from where the others rested, Malgor and Triestan sat across from each other at a small, round table, the air between them thick with unspoken tension.
          On the table between them lay a single vial, the glass catching the faint light as it glimmered with an almost ethereal glow. Inside, the blood that Malgor had taken from Envictus earlier pulsed with a subtle blue luminescence--a light so faint that it was almost easy to dismiss, yet impossible to ignore.
          Malgor's gnarled hands trembled slightly as he unrolled the parchment, his piercing blue eyes scanning the results of Envictus's blood analysis. "I had my suspicions," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would disturb the fragile reality of what they were seeing. "But I didn't expect this."
          Triestan leaned closer, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. "What does it mean?" he asked, his tone cautious. "Is it connected to the Obelisk?"
          Malgor didn't answer immediately. Instead, he swirled the vial gently, watching the light ebb and flow with the movement of the blood. "It's more than just the Obelisk," he finally said, his voice grave.
          Triestan frowned, leaning back in his chair as he considered Malgor's words. "We need to tell him," he said after a moment, though there was uncertainty in his voice. "If this is a danger--"
          But Malgor shook his head, his expression resolute. "Not yet," he interrupted, firmly. "He's not ready."
          The two men sat in silence for a long moment, the flickering light playing over their tense features. The vial on the table seemed to pulse in time with the unspoken fears that hung between them, a silent reminder of the unknown path that lay ahead.
          Finally, Triestan nodded, though reluctance still shadowed his eyes. "Very well," he agreed. "We'll keep this between us for now. But Malgor... if there's any sign, any hint that this is more than we can handle--"
          "I know," Malgor interrupted, his voice steady. "And we'll deal with it when the time comes. For now, we let Envictus think that he's just another soldier in this war. When the time is right, we'll tell him the truth."
          With that, Malgor carefully placed the vial back into a small, padded case and locked it away in a hidden compartment within the stone wall. As the compartment sealed shut, the light from the vial was extinguished, plunging the room into a deeper darkness.
          With a wave of his hand, Malgor sent the parchment flying into the flickering flames of the nearby hearth, the edges curling and blackening as the fire consumed the words they dared not speak aloud.
          "Let's hope," Triestan murmured as they stood to leave, "that when that time comes, he's ready."
          Malgor said nothing as they left the chamber and the heavy door closed behind them.
          The morning sun had barely begun to crest the horizon when Envictus's eyes fluttered open, his mind still hazy from the previous night's revelries. He sat up slowly, his head throbbing with the telltale signs of overindulgence. Around him, his companions stirred, their faces etched with the same weariness he felt in his bones.
          "Here, this might help," offered Rukotem, handing Envictus a vial of murky liquid with a strong odor of herbs. "Old family remedy." she winked as Envictus pulled a face at the foul smell.
          Gritting his teeth, he uncorked the vial and gulped down its contents in one swift motion. Almost immediately, he felt a wave of calmness pulsing through his veins, wiping away any sense of the hangover that had plagued him only moments before. Envictus eyed Rukotem curiously, noting the slight smirk on her scaly features.
          "Family remedy indeed." Envictus murmured under his breath as he rose to his feet, feeling well enough to begin his day.
          Lyria first, then Varis, planted their feet on the cold stone ground, slightly damp from the moisture seeping up through the ground. A loud resonance of a yawn traveled throughout their chambers as Varis stretched, reaching his arms toward the cobblestone ceiling.
          The group emerged from their rooms, still shaking off the remnants of sleep. They gathered around the long wooden table where the convened the previous day.
          Malgor was already there, his expression grimmer than usual. His fingers drummed against the edge of the table, and his eyes were distant, as though he was contemplating something far beyond the room. Triestan occupied a wooden chair, his hands folded together and his elbows placed on the table.
          "Our missing member, Thalric Voss, has yet to return," Malgor announced, his tone devoid of the usual confidence he carried. "I fear the worst may have happened. I sense a strong disturbance within the Veil."
          A heavy silence fell over the group, broken only by the soft rustling of Rukotem's scales as she shifted uncomfortably. Envictus felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He had never met Thalric, but the idea of losing someone part of the cause did not sit well with him. He glanced at his companions, seeing the same unease reflected in their eyes.
          "What do we do now?" asked Lyria, breaking through the silence with a quiet voice. Her tone was somber, her words careful.
          "We can't just leave him out there," Envictus said, his voice firm with conviction. "If there's a chance he's still alive, we need to find him. He might need help."
          Malgor sighed, his shoulders sagging beneath the weight of his robes. "We must press on. Thalric knew the risks," he replied, his tone colder than before. "Likely, he's already dead. If you were to follow, I'm afraid the same fate may await."
          "How are we suppose to trust each other if we don't even try?" said Envictus, standing in defiance against Malgor. "If it were one of us, wouldn't you expect us to do the same?"
          Rukotem folded her scaled arms over her armored chest plates, her bright red eyes full of determination. "Envictus is right," she interjected, her voice piercing through the tense atmosphere. "Thalric is one of us."
          "Envictus is right," Lyria said, joining the conversation. "If we were in his place, wouldn't we want someone to come for us? We've never had that luxury before. We all used to be on our own, knowing rescue wouldn't come. Now we have each other."
          Malgor scuffed, rubbing his forehead while shaking his head. "Thalric knew ---"
          "I don't give a damn what Thalric knew," she interrupted, sliding her chair backward as she stood up. "I signed up to be on a team. To fight together. And I don't give a damn what you think Malgor." said Lyria, her teeth clenching her jaw.
          Varis, who had remained silent up until now, crossed his arms and nodded in agreement. "She's right, Malgor. We should at least try to find him."
          Rukotem nodded, her fingers fiddling with the hilts of her daggers. "I don't disagree much with you Malgor, but I'm with them." she said, a slight hiss from her forked tongue.
          Triestan remained silent throughout all the back and forth dialogue between his team and his mentor. Although, a slight grin formed on his face with each word of defiance.
          Malgor's gaze swept over the group, his expression unreadable. There was a tense silence in the air as everyone waited for him to reply. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Malgor's stern gaze softened and he heaved a long sigh, shaking his head in resignation. "Very well," he said. "But understand me when I say, if you go, you will go at your own risk. Don't expect any help from me if you land yourselves in trouble. I will find out where he was last seen, but after that, you're on your own. Do I make myself clear?" he said, the last words directed toward Lyria.
          Lyria took a step forward, her jaw set in a determined line. "Crystal," she said, her voice ringing with certainty. She glanced back at Varis, Rukotem, and Envictus for confirmation, and received a nod of approval from each of them.
          Turning her attention back to Malgor, Lyria raised her chin and fixed him with an unwavering stare. "Just show us where he was last seen."
          With his arm outstretched, Malgor waved his hand over the map of Elyndor that was placed on the table. He spoke a few words under his breath, and a faint glow appeared, circling over the Great Forest of Elyndor. A few more words breached from Malgor's lips as the light began to fixate on a specific point.
          "There," Malgor said, his finger placed on the glowing mark, representing an area just within the Great Forest but near the outskirts of Hightower. He raised his head, making eye contact with the group. "The Great Elyndor Forest is no Larenchia. There is no other place like it. Not on Vash or Elseon. It borders Avaron, the Capitol, and is teeming with Arkan soldiers. But the soldiers are the least of your worries. The forest is ancient and full of creatures that don't take kindly to intruders. If you thought the Grogorth was bad, thank Dor that you are not going too deep within its bounds." he said, stressing every word to make sure that he had been heard. "I assume Thalric went off, searching for a stone said to bee hidden within the forest. Whatever he was looking for, it wasn't worth his life. Not at this moment."
          Lyria's eyes narrowed as she studied the map. Making sure to absorbed every detail that should could to successfully navigate through the forest with her team. Envictus caught her attention as he glanced in her direction. She offered a playful grin before motioning to her rest of her crew. They all bundled close together, admiring the map for a while, collecting their thoughts before plotting their first journey as a team.
          As they began to gear up for the adventure into the forest, the atmosphere in the room was tense. Varis, who had been unusually quiet, suddenly turned to Envictus, his expression sharp. "Have you ever had any real combat experience, Vicky?" he asked, a smug grin appearing on his face. "Or are you just here to fill a spot?"
          Envictus paused, his hands stilling on the straps of his armor chest piece he started to put on. "I've fought before," he answered, though he knew that was a lie and just an attempt to quiet Varis.
          Varis' eyes narrowed, his skepticism clear. "You'd better be ready for what's out there in that spooky forest. This isn't some training in a wooden barn. If you're not prepared, you might get us all killed."
          Lyria, sensing the growing tension, stepped in. "I'm just the navigator, Varis," she said, with a perky smile. "I've never been in a real fight either, but that doesn't mean we can't help out."
          Before Varis could respond, Rukotem placed a firm hand on his shoulder, her grip strong enough to make him wince slightly. "Gol drugo, enough," she said, her voice low and commanding. "I've fought beasts and monsters from far away lands, one's that you couldn't even imagine. I'm not even sure if the wizards know about these creatures." she said, a brief pause as she placed studded greaves upon her legs. "Experience grows all in due time, you were once a novice before, couldn't even get your wand up."
          "Mages don't carry wands. At least, I don't. But I understand." he said, nodding his head. "Let 'em learn."
          The group continued to gather the rest of their gear, preparing for their journey into the depths of the Great Elyndor Forest.
          As they were about to leave, Triestan approached Envictus, pulling him aside while the other finished their preparation. "Envictus," he said, his voice tinged with concern. "I need you to listen to me. Don't be reckless out there. Follow Ruko's lead, and don't try to play the hero. I know you want to prove yourself, but you are important to this team. We can't afford to lose you. I must talk to Malgor about our situation."
          Envictus met Triestan's gaze. "I'll be careful, old man." he said with a smile. "It was you who taught me after all."
          Triestan returned a small, tight-lipped smile. "May Dor be with you." he said, placing a fist to his heart.
          Envictus slightly bowed his head and placed his fist over his heart, just the same.
          With that, Triestan stepped back, allowing Envictus to rejoin the group. The four of them stood together, ready for whatever the Great Elyndor Forest had in store. They knew the risks and dangers that may lay ahead, but they also knew that they had to trust each other, and that trust could be forged in the trials to come.
          It was still early in the morning as the group left the hidden chambers of the Academy, making their way toward the forest off to the west of Hightower. The city was quiet as the streets were empty except for the occasional stray cat or early riser. The towering spires of the city cast long shadows behind them, over the cobblestone roads. The air was thick with the morning mist that rolled in from the surrounding forest.
          As they made their way to the outskirts of Hightower, the transition from the city's stone structures to the untamed wilderness of the Great Forest was stark.
          The edge of the forest was dense with long-lived trees, their thick trunks covered in moss and vines that hung like curtains from the branches above. The forest floor was a carpet of ferns and underbrush, with the occasional beam of sunlight piercing through the thick canopy of the trees.
          Envictus glanced at his companions, taking in their expressions of awe and trepidation. Lyria's eyes were wide, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword as if seeking reassurance. Rukotem, by contrast, seemed almost at home, her draconid features alert and watchful as she scanned the surrounding trees for any sign of danger.
          As they ventured deeper into the forest, the trees seemed to close in around them.
          Lyria, who had been keeping a close eye on the map, signaled for the group to stop. "Just up ahead." she said, her voice a whisper. "Just passed those trees. That's where Thalric was last seen."
          After pushing their way through thick weeds, they found themselves in a small clearing, where the remnants of an old road lay hidden beneath layers of overgrowth. Old ruins, little more than crumbling stone walls and scattered debris, were seemingly thrown about along the forest floor, their surfaces smooth as centuries of exposure to the elements took their toll.
          "Look's like this place hasn't seen life in hundreds of cycles," Varis muttered as he kicked a loose stone. "Why would Thalric come here in the first place?"
          Lyria's keen eyes swept the area, searching for clues. "Perhaps he was seeking something hidden within these ruins," she suggested, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Something that could help us in our fight against Valmael."
          Rukotem nodded, her scales glinting in the dappled sunlight. "We should spread out and search the area," she said, her voice low and urgent. "Look for anything that might point us in the right direction."
          As they fanned out across the clearing, Varis hung back, his arms folded across his chest. "I don't like this," he muttered, his eyes darting nervously from one shadow to the next. "We're exposed out here. Vulnerable."
          Near the base of a large oak tree, partially obscured by thick underbrush, Rukotem found a small, partially hidden entrance--a tunnel leading underground. The entrance was framed by old, weathered stones, some of which had crumbled away, leaving gaps that revealed the dark abyss beyond.
          Rukotem let out a sharp hiss of excitement. "Over here!" she called, beckoning the others to join her at the base of a crumbling wall.
          As they gathered around, Envictus saw what had caught her attention: a narrow opening in the ground, partially obscured by fallen stones and tangled vines.
          Varis eyed the opening warily. "This is a bad idea," he said, shaking his head. "We have no idea what's down there. It could be a trap."
          But Rukotem was already moving forward, her daggers drawn. "We don't have a choice," she said, her voice tight with determination. "If Thalric went down there, then that's where we need to go."
          One by one, they descended into the tunnel, the darkness swallowing them whole. Varis hesitated at the entrance, his face a mask of indecision. But a strange noise; a faint, unsettling howl, echoed from deeper within the forest, sending a shiver down his spine. With a muttered curse, he followed the others inside, not willing to face whatever was lurking outside alone.
          Rukotem led the way, her draconid eyes piercing through the gloom. They were better off to see in the dark nonetheless.
          "Did any one happen to bring a torch?" Varis asked, rhetorically. "Guess it's a good thing I came prepared." he said, raising his finger as a glow of light irradiated from it.
          The tunnel opened into a vast network of ancient catacombs, their walls lined with stone coffins and alcoves that had long since fallen into disrepair. The air was thick with the scent of decay and dust, and the only light came from the faint glow of Varis' finger.
          Rukotem grabbed hold of Varis' wrist, guiding it around as her own personal light. Ancient symbols were etched into the stone, as she squinted, trying to recognize any of the intricate details. "These look familiar. Like I've seen them before." she said, placing her free hand on the patterns and feeling them gently. "I think they are traps." she said, somewhat unsure of herself.
          The others gathered around her, their faces dimly lit by the fading light in Varis' fingertip. Lyria carefully traced the shapes with her own slender fingers, committing them to memory in case she encountered them later in the tunnels.
          "Watch your step," Rukotem said, pointing to an oddly shaped stone on the ground. The group carefully traversed over what looked to be a pressure plate. "There's a passageway just up ahead. Follow my lead."
          Envictus' heart raced as he squeezed through a particularly tight space, the rough stone scraping against his skin.
          The passage opened up into a larger chamber, its walls covered in thick, web-like structures. The sticky strands crisscrossed the space, forming a grotesque tapestry of past battles and long-forgotten horrors. The group's movement became slower as silken threads clung to their armor and weapons.
          Their slow movement allowed the group more time to observe exactly what they were walking into. They came across signs of past battles; skeletons wearing armor, corroded and worn down, wrapped in the same webbing that now surrounded them. But as Rukotem noted, the webbing looked fresh and whatever caused it may still be lurking in the shadows.
          "By Etenos," Lyria said, her eyes wide with horror. "What could have done this?"
          Varis stepped forward, his gaze fixed on a scrap of cloth tangled in the webs. "Thalric," he said grimly, recognizing the symbol of their missing friend's house. "He was here."
          A subtle movement caught Envictus's eye, a flicker of shadow at the edge of the chamber. He tensed, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. "We're not alone," he warned, his voice low and urgent.
          From the darkness, a pair of gleaming eyes stared back at them, unblinking and full of malice.
          "It's a webweaver!" shouted Rukotem, retrieving both daggers from her side. "Fall back. Fall back." she said, her voice filling with terror.
          The path behind them was too narrow for them to all to quickly retreat.
          The creature emerged from the shadows, its bloated body pulsing and writhing as it propelled itself forward. This webweaver stood on six long, jointed legs that resembled twisted, gnarled branches. Its body was covered in thick, chitinous armor that glistened like polished obsidian but was overgrown with moss and mushrooms, blending perfectly with the environment. Its eyes were black, reflecting very little light from Varis' fingertip glow.
          The webweaver let out a low hiss, its body shifting as it moved toward them, its legs tapping against the stone floor with each step.
          Rukotem's voice rang out above the chaos, sharp and commanding. "Forget it." she cried, tugging on Varis' robes to pull him out of the passageway they came from. "There's not enough time. Run" she shouted.
          They ran, their footsteps echoing off the stone walls as they scrambled around the open chamber, although they had no real idea about where to go. The webweaver narrowly missed the group, crashing into the stone wall that was behind them.
          Rukotem called out again, her voice strained with exertion. "There!" she panted, pointing towards a narrow hallway that branched off from the main chamber. "We might be able to hold it off in there!"
          They veered into the hallway, their breaths coming in ragged gasps as they pressed themselves against the walls. The Webweaver skidded to a halt at the entrance, its bulbous eyes scanning the confined space with predatory intent, before retreating back to the shadows, out of sight.
          The group caught their breath, gulping in the musty air that burned as it filled their chests. Rukotem grit her teeth against the ache in her sides, adrenaline coursing through her veins like fire. She could sense that her companions were worn out from their mad dash and were awaiting orders from her to decide their next course of action.
          "What now?" Lyria whispered, her bow drawn and ready. "We can't just wait for it to come to us."
          Rukotem's eyes narrowed as she recalled a distant memory from her past. "I've seen these things before." she said. "When I was a child, these things invaded my city. My father transformed himself into his dracon form. He was a firebreather, and if I remember correctly, these things hate fire."
          Envictus couldn't help but smile listening to Rukotem's story. He only ever heard stories about dracons, but not from a draconid herself. "Why can't you just become a dracon?" he asked. "Turn into one and breath fire onto the beast."
          "Because I can't." she replied, dropping her head slightly. "I'm not like the rest of them. I cannot turn myself into one alone. That's why I need Metokur, my twin."
          Metokur. That name seemed familiar to Envictus. He wasn't sure from where he hear it before, but it dug a pit, deep within his mind. "Okay. Then, what do we do Ruko?" he said, his voice tense as he gripped his sword tightly.
          "We fight." she replied, her eyes burning with determination. "Fire and light. Its webs and blood can be burned. They are both highly flammable."
          Varis let out a low whistle, his eyes gleaming with sudden understanding. "So we torch the bastard," he said, a feral grin spreading across his face. "I like it."
          Envictus nodded, his mind racing as he tried to formulate a plan. They had the knowledge they needed to defeat the creature, but putting it into practice would be another matter entirely. The Webweaver was fast, strong, and utterly ruthless in its pursuit of prey.
          "Lyria, bow and arrow. Varis, brighten up your finger." Rukotem said, showing her sharp teeth. "Envictus, you are the distraction."
          The group burst from the narrow corridor, their weapons at the ready as they arranged themselves in a defensive formation. Envictus stood still for a moment, a look of confusion set on his face, before quickly following the group.
          Envictus unsheathed his longsword, the blade glinting in the dim light of the catacombs. Beside him, stood Lyria, her outstretched arms gripping onto the drawstring of her bow, as her emerald eyes were locked in concentration. Rukotem crouched low, her twin daggers held before her in a battle stance, while Varis lifted his arms, magic pulsing from his palms.
          A thunderous crash echoed through the chamber as the webweaver smashed through a stone wall, sending debris flying in all directions. The creature let out a deafening hiss, its black eyes glittering with malice as it caught sight of its prey.
          Lyria reacted first, her arrow streaking through the air towards the Webweaver's face. The projectile found its mark, burying itself deep in the creature's left eye. A spray of viscous, dark fluid erupted from the wound, and the Webweaver screeched in agony, its legs flailing wildly.
          "Nice shot!" Envictus called out, his grip tightening on his sword as he braced himself for the creature's charge.
          But Lyria's triumph was short-lived. Despite the grievous injury, the Webweaver surged forward, its remaining eyes blazing with fury, its legs scraping against the walls as it charged.
          Lyria continued to quickly fire arrows but most did not stick in the creatures heavy armor.
          Envictus spotted his opportunity, sliding beneath the webweaver, his sword aiming for its underbelly. The creature's armor was thick and unyielding, turning aside his blade with a grating screech. As he rolled out from under the webweaver, Envictus noticed a thin trickle of dark blood oozing from a small crack in the creature's armor. An idea sparked in his mind, a desperate gamble born of years of training with Triestan.
          The Webweaver hissed violently. Its mouth split open, revealing rows of jagged, needle-sharp teeth that gleamed with venomous saliva.
          Envictus sheathed his sword and reached out with his mind, feeling for the warm pulse of the Veilweave. A small flame flickered to life in his palm, casting eerie shadows on the walls of the chamber.
          Varis remained closed casting a spell on Rukotem and Lyria, a weak shield that could protect them from a single blow.
          "Envictus, what are you doing?" Lyria called out, her voice tight with worry.
          Envictus didn't answer. Instead, he darted forward, ducking beneath the Webweaver's flailing legs. With a grunt of effort, he hurled the flickering flame at the creature's belly, aiming for the thin rivulet of blood.
          The effect was immediate and devastating. The Webweaver's blood ignited with a whoosh, tongues of flames racing along its underside. The creature let out a deafening shriek, its legs spasming as it tried to shake off the flames, losing its balance in the process.
          "It's working!" Rukotem crowed, her daggers flashing as she darted in to strike at the Webweaver's joints.
          Varis, his face tight with concentration, thrust out his hands. "It's going to be bright," he warned, his voice strained. "I won't be able to hold it for long."
          A blinding flash of light erupted from Varis' palms, engulfing the chamber in a searing white glow.
          The Webweaver reeled back, its remaining eyes seared by the sudden radiance. It stumbled and crashed into the walls, its movements erratic and uncoordinated. Its body continued to be engulfed by flames as it tangled itself in its own flammable webbing, quickly spreading across its form.
          "Hurry!" Varis shouted, his face pale with effort. "I can't maintain this for much longer."
          Rukotem spotted her opening. She leaped onto the webweaver's back, plunging her twin daggers into its now weakened armor. The creature writhed in pain, but Rukotem held on firm. Ichor sprayed from the wound, sizzling where it touched the flames.
          Envictus and Lyria pressed themselves against the wall, watching in awe as Rukotem rode the dying webweaver like a wild strigby on the Great Plains, her teeth bared in a snarl of triumph.
          The light from Varis' spell was fading fast now, the shadows creeping in around them. The only illumination came from the flames that danced across the webweaver's body, casting eerie, shifting shadows on the walls.
          Rukotem yanked her daggers free, the blades dripping with ichor. She threw back her head and let out a primal scream, a sound that seemed to come from the very depths of her being. As the scream built to a crescendo, flames erupted from her mouth, pouring down into the Webweaver's open wounds.
          The effect was instantaneous and devastating. The Webweaver's body exploded, showering the room with chunks of seared flesh and chitin. The flames winked out, plunging the chamber into darkness. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the sound of heavy breathing and the drip of ichor.
          "Everyone alright?" Varis' voice cut through the gloom, strained but steady.
          Envictus blinked, his eyes adjusting to the sudden darkness. He could make out the shapes of his companions, all of them coated in bits of webweaver. "I think so," he said, his voice sounding oddly loud in the confined space. "Lyria? Ruko?"
          "I'm here," Lyria said, her voice shaky but resolute. "That was... intense."
          Rukotem let out a bark of laughter, the sound startling in the quiet. "That's one word for it," she said, wiping her daggers clean on her leggings. "I haven't had a rush like that in ages."
          Varis made a noise that might have been a snort. "Glad you enjoyed yourself," he said dryly, shaking his hand to dislodge a piece of webweaver that clung to his sleeve. "Now, can we please get out of here before something else decides to make a meal of us?"
          Envictus couldn't help but grin, the adrenaline still singing in his veins. "Lead the way, Varis," he said, gesturing grandly into the darkness.
          The quartet moved cautiously through the winding tunnels, their steps echoing in the oppressive silence. The air grew heavy with the stench of decay, and soon they found themselves surrounded by the grim remnants of battle. They reached the final chamber of these wretched catacombs. Arkan soldiers, their bodies wrapped in thick, weblike cocoons, hung from the walls like macabre ornaments. Envictus felt a shiver run down his spine, a mixture of revulsion and pity for these fallen warriors.
          "Oh my Dor," Lyria whisper, her hand covering her mouth.
          "The webweaver must've been guarding something down here." Rukotem said. "Something big enough to get the attention of these Arkan soldiers.
          Varis frowned, his brow furrowed in thought. "But what could be so valuable that--" He stopped abruptly, his gaze falling on a cylindrical room ahead. "There," he said, pointing. "That looks like it could have been the overseer's office."
          They approached cautiously, weapons at the ready. As they entered the room, Varis felt his heart sink. There, pinned to the wall behind a desk, was the lifeless body of Thalric Voss. His eyes stared sightlessly ahead, his face frozen in a final expression of grim determination.
          Oh, Thalric Varis thought, a wave of grief rushing over him. I'm sorry we couldn't save you.
          Rukotem stepped forward, her voice thick with emotion. "Thalric was a true warrior," she said softly. "He fought bravely until the end, never wavering in his conviction."
          Lyria bowed her head, her sandy blonde hair falling like a curtain around her face. "May his spirit find peace in Elyndor's embrace," she murmured.
          Envictus lowered his head in reverence, his thoughts filled with sorrow for his fallen comrade. Although he did not know Thalric, he was touched by the deep loyalty and affection his friends had for him.
          Varis, his eyes suspiciously bright, moved closer to Thalric's body. As he did, something caught his eye--an ancient staff, still gripped tightly in Thalric's hand. Carefully, almost reverently, Varis pried the staff from Thalric's grasp.
          "This must be what he was after," Varis said, turning the staff over in his hands. It was elaborately carved, with intricate runes etched into the wood. He brushed aside some dust that covered its surface, revealing a ghastly white gemstone embedded at its center. "Is this a Veilstone? A Veilstone staff?"
          "What's a Veilstone?" asked Envictus, peering over Varis' shoulder to get a better look at the artifact.
          "It's an Artifact of Illation. Some of the strongest artifacts and magic that the Arcocen has ever seen. We must deliver this straight to Malgor." said Varis, glancing at each team member.
          They had hope in their eyes; it filled Varis with a new resolve, knowing that Thalric didn't die for nothing. He died protecting this ancient artifact with all his life.
          As the group prepared to make their way back to Hightower, Envictus paused, looking back at Thalric's body. He bowed his head in a final, silent tribute to their fallen comrade. Then, squaring his shoulders, he turned to face the long and somber journey back to Hightower.