Throughout the expansive lands of Equestera, a timeless whisper persisted, asserting that each kingdom mirrored its sovereign. Alykarn, Pythonia's capital, exemplified diversity, blending elements from all realms under the inclusive rule of Queen Python. Artisans from each kingdom contributed to its grand edifices, preserving their homeland's essence.
In Alykarn, every street and alley showcased architecture reflecting at least two of Equestera's kingdoms, ensuring every traveler experienced the realm's cultural tapestry. Alicornified, Alykarn resembled a wise elder, embracing all with open hooves and a knowing smile, offering sanctuary to every alicorn, where echoes of their homeland resounded warmly at every turn.
Under the golden dawn's embrace, Raybarn and Feyn treaded Alykarn's winding streets, bound for the famed Guild Inn. Feyn, distant in gaze and faltering in step, carried remnants of a nightmarish vision haunting his slumber—a forsaken laboratory's eerie shadows. Despite waking in dread, he kept silent, sparing his father the weight of his haunting memories.
Raybarn, with the wisdom of age and the keen observation of a Protector, recognized the fatigue shadowing his son's steps. Adjusting his stride, he offered Feyn a silent, comforting presence.
As they ventured further, the diverse tapestry of Alykarn unfolded before them. Alicorns from every corner of Equestera crossed their path. Among these myriad faces, Feyn discerned many bearing the insignia of the Arcanic Academy. This emblem, he realized, was perhaps the thread weaving this diverse populace together.
To Feyn's silent observation, many scholars, luminaries, and academicians acknowledged Raybarn with reverence, a tribute to his monumental contributions to the Academy. Each nod, each gesture further fueled Feyn's resolve to walk in his father's footsteps.
In a quiet alcove, away from the cacophony, Raybarn turned to Feyn, his voice soft yet laden with anticipation, "Do you remember our discourse in our quarters in the Academy?"
Feyn, caught in a maelstrom of memories, replied hesitantly, "What words do you speak of, Dad?"
"The mantle of the Protector," Raybarn prodded gently, hoping to ignite Feyn's memory. But the shadows of uncertainty lingered. With a sigh, Raybarn continued, "Before fully joining the Academy, certain rites must be observed. Recall them for me."
Feyn, searching the recesses of his mind, responded with a trace of confidence returning, "First, I must find an examiner and then obtain the Protector's license."
Raybarn nodded, pride evident in his gaze. "Precisely. Given our pursuits, it might be prudent to enroll you in the Alykarn Guild Inn forthwith."
The prospect filled Feyn with a myriad of emotions. The pride of joining, juxtaposed with the anxiety of immediate enrollment. But trusting in his father's wisdom, he acquiesced, "Alright, I agree with that, Dad."
Raybarn's smile was warm, yet behind Feyn's mirrored smile lay a tumult of emotions, a sacrifice of personal desires at the altar of duty and legacy.
In Alykarn's vast streets, the city's layout resonated with history. Two grand plazas stood as its jewels, each housing structure embodying Equestera's essence. The first, shadowed by towering walls, held the revered Arcanic Academy. The second, equally mesmerizing, hosted the Guild Inn. Though not polar opposites, their distance required traversing the city's heart, akin to a pilgrimage.
Locals, with a touch of endearment and reverence, dubbed the square guarding the Guild Inn as the Protector Square. Such was its stature and the tales that surrounded it.
As Raybarn and Feyn journeyed, time seemed to stretch, each cobblestone and whisper carrying echoes of the past. Finally, they reached the towering gates of Protector Square, a sight that left Feyn in awe. The gates, dark as midnight, shone with intricate gold embellishments, adding grandeur to the scene.
As the massive doors creaked open, a world unfolded before them. Alykarn's courtyard bustled with alicorns from all corners of Equestera. While Guild Inns elsewhere housed alicorns regardless of origin, Alykarn's diversity surpassed all, creating a melting pot of cultures.
Watching seasoned Protectors traverse the vast expanse, indulging in discussions and even some friendly duels, Feyn felt a tumult of emotions. Initially apprehensive about the prospect of joining the Inn, observing the camaraderie made the notion more palatable.
While structures might vary, Raybarn noted a comforting familiarity in the aura that permeated every Guild Inn. The Alykarn Inn, despite its vastness, evoked memories of the one in distant Aemna.
However, the seasoned alicorn swiftly recalibrated his focus. Their mission beckoned. Nudging his son, who was visibly enamored by the spectacle, Raybarn intoned, "Time is of the essence, Feyn. Let us proceed."
Winding their way through the myriad of alicorns, they finally reached the grandiose entrance of the Inn. Seeking to hone Feyn's instincts, Raybarn posed a query, "Where, my son, do you reckon we should commence our search?"
After a contemplative pause, Feyn voiced his deductions. Considering the trauma their quarry faced, a learning room seemed an unlikely choice. Furthermore, high-ranking Protectors seldom sought solace in personal quarters within Guild Inns. Given these insights, Feyn surmised, "The lounge, perhaps even the bar."
A hint of pride gleamed in Raybarn's eyes as they navigated toward the lounge. Upon entering, a brief commotion captured their attention. Feyn, unaccustomed to such displays, instinctively sought refuge behind his father. But Raybarn, with a hint of nostalgia, remarked, "It's but a rite of passage, a playful skirmish every alicorn experiences here. Trust me, it's all in good spirits."
Still, Feyn remained skeptical of such 'fun,' given his aversion to combat. Yet, amidst the tumult, an opportunity arose. As the alicorns' attention veered toward the faux-battle, a clear view emerged. And there, sipping his drink, sat an alicorn with a striking silver mane and a scar etching his cheek.
The young Fulmenian whispered his discovery to his father. Their target was in sight, but before they could approach, Raybarn, with a twinkle in his eye, said, "Now, you must embark on your own journey. Head to the reception and begin your path as a Protector."
Reluctantly, Feyn acquiesced. Armed with his father's wisdom and the weight of their shared purpose, he took his leave. Raybarn, now alone, ventured deeper into the lounge, his every step echoing with determination and destiny.
***
In the dimly lit chambers of the Alykarn Inn lounge, the very walls seemed to resonate with whispered secrets and unsung tales. Amidst the hazy atmosphere, the gentle hum of quiet conversations, and the distant clink of goblets sat Pyvern. His posture was that of a battle-hardened warrior, yet one who now bore the weight of burdens too heavy to express.
Beside him approached Raybarn. The flickering candlelight lent an ethereal glow to his orange eyes, revealing a depth of intellect and a soul eager for knowledge. "Might I share your company, Pyvern?" Raybarn inquired, his tone respectful yet inquisitive.
The Virtusian responded with a mere nod. The gesture was so delicate it was almost imperceptible. His gaze, however, remained fixated on the intricately designed table on which his drink rested, reflecting the dim light in its amber depths.
The Fulmenian gracefully seated himself opposite Pyvern, the wood of the chair groaning softly beneath him. Clearing his throat, he began, "I am here as an envoy of the esteemed Nerath and as a consultant for the Arcanic Academy of Alykarn. My name is Raybarn, a humble scholar who seeks knowledge. I've been tasked to unravel the enigma surrounding the spirit you sought in the dark woods."
Though Pyvern's face was cast in shadow, the subtle movements of his muscles and the tension in his frame told Raybarn volumes. He bore a haunted visage, one that spoke of sleepless nights and unending torment. Raybarn's heart twinged with sympathy; he had encountered such looks far too often in his long tenure.
With a discreet gesture, Raybarn caught the attention of the Inn's drink attendant. The rapport between them was evident, for, without a word, the attendant set to preparing Raybarn's preferred beverage.
Pyvern's voice emerged, tremulous and weighed down by memories he wished to forget. "The forest…its very air was thick with malevolence. The things I witnessed there have scarred my very soul. Unceasing whispers, sinister shadows flitting just out of sight; they haunt my waking hours."
Raybarn, his interest piqued, prodded gently, "What did you behold in those dark depths? Could you share with me?"
As Pyvern hesitated, the drink arrived, the liquid swirling enticingly within the glass. Yet, as the server retreated, Pyvern's demeanor shifted. His eyes, previously downcast, snapped to Raybarn's, a look of pure terror apparent within them. The dread emanating from him was palpable, chilling Raybarn to his core.
"Sometimes," Pyvern murmured, his voice ragged, "when I gaze upon my own reflection, I don't see myself. Another, more monstrous version of me stares back, a creature of nightmares."
Raybarn's thoughts raced, his mind drawing parallels with tales he had heard from another. The revelation sent shivers down his spine. Was his own kin in danger of suffering the same fate? Yet, a glimmer of hope persisted; he believed in Feyn's resilience.
Pyvern's revelations were not yet at an end. With every word, the atmosphere in the room grew colder, the very air seeming to thicken. He spoke of another entity, a grotesque fusion of dragon and alicorn—much different than the draconic form of Virtusians. A leviathan of unparalleled might, its shadow alone dwarfing the towering spires of the AAA building.
The monstrosity that Pyvern described was unlike any being that had ever been seen or spoken of in the realms. Rising from the very belly of the earth, its presence was as imposing as the ancient mountains themselves.
The beast had the noble visage of an alicorn, its proud head crowned with twisted horns that spiraled upward, reflecting the little light that dared to touch them. Its eyes, however, bore no semblance to the gentle eyes of an alicorn. They were pools of blackness, abyssal and endless, with a fire burning deep within, giving the creature an unsettling, otherworldly gaze.
The body of the creature, however, was the most terrifying aspect of all. Sculpted like a massive winged reptile, it bore scales that shimmered like obsidian, glistening with a sheen that hinted at its impenetrable nature. Its massive, muscular frame pulsed with dark power, every movement sending ripples through the air around it.
Eight gigantic wings, a number unheard of in the natural world, sprouted from its back. These wings were not just instruments of flight but seemed to serve as amplifiers of its malevolent energy. Each wing, larger than any known bird or beast, was veined with blue and purple, giving them an eerie luminescence in the dim light.
But what was most striking about this behemoth were the blue and purple crystals that dotted its body. They were not mere decorations; they pulsed and throbbed, seemingly alive. These crystals appeared to be sources of energy or perhaps even a form of armor. The patches where scales peeked through between the crystals gave the beast an oddly mosaic appearance, with the crystals and scales interlocking in a pattern that seemed both random and deliberate at the same time.
Pyvern said that to stare at this creature was to gaze upon the very embodiment of nightmares. Its majesty and horror were in equal measure. The very ground seemed to tremble in its wake, and the air grew colder, denser, as if the creature was drawing the very life force out of its surroundings.
This was no ordinary monster; it was an enigma, a harbinger of something ancient and foreboding.
Drawing a shaky breath, Pyvern added, "There was something else. The beast engaged in whispered conversations with another alicorn, one that exuded an aura of elegance."
Raybarn's investigative instincts flared. "Could you discern any identifying features of this mysterious alicorn?"
With a pained expression, Pyvern responded, "Its fur was the black of a moonless night, adorned with luminescent stripes, though their hue escapes my memory. It was neither clearly male nor female, but an overwhelming sense of cold majesty emanated from it."
The revelations left Raybarn with more questions than answers, and he knew his quest for understanding had only just begun.
In the deep corners of Raybarn's mind, a spark of realization ignited, its flickering flames hinting at a connection. Before he could act upon this newfound understanding, he needed evidence. An image danced in the recesses of his memory—stripes of some ethereal hue. "Were these markings of pristine white or shimmering silver?" he inquired, seeking confirmation.
Pyvern, taken aback by the precision of the question, turned sharply toward Raybarn. His eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and respect, he bobbed his head in a fervent nod. With this affirmation, Raybarn felt the pieces of the puzzle fall into place. But he treaded cautiously, ensuring his countenance betrayed no hint of his surging epiphany.
He proceeded to barrage Pyvern with a series of seemingly random queries, an artful ruse to obfuscate the fact that he had just acquired a pivotal piece of information that might reshape their very investigation.
Pyvern, previously taut as a drawn bowstring, now seemed to relax slightly, gratitude evident in his gaze. He seemed to appreciate that Raybarn, a fellow Protector of their order, was offering a small but significant solace.
Yet, when Raybarn asked if others were privy to Pyvern's knowledge, the latter's demeanor changed. Pyvern's eyes darted around suspiciously as though half-expecting to see spectral figures lurking in the shadows. After a tense pause, his gaze settled on Raybarn, and he shook his head solemnly. Raybarn's voice, laced with genuine concern, pressed further, "Why withhold such crucial information? Others might've aided you."
Pyvern's reply was whispered, laden with the weight of a heavy secret. "None would've comprehended, Raybarn. None but you."
Raybarn, as he listened, felt an echo of Pyvern's pain within himself, for he, too, had grappled with unexplainable visions. Yet, with this newfound knowledge dawned the realization that his deepest fears for his offspring could soon become reality, and he would stop at nothing to prevent it.
Seeking a momentary escape, Raybarn hastily finished his beverage, the cool liquid rushing down his throat. He rose, acknowledging Pyvern with a brief nod, "Your words have been enlightening. Perhaps consult the realm's healers. They might offer some solace."
Pyvern's grateful response was tinged with melancholy, "I shall heed your advice."
Raybarn, departing with a forced smile, knew deep within that even the realm's most potent healers might not possess the remedy for Pyvern's affliction.
As Raybarn approached the Guild's entrance, he noticed his son Feyn immersed in bureaucratic intricacies. Joining him, Raybarn exchanged pleasantries with the officer and then turned his attention to Feyn. "All goes well, I trust?"
Feyn, engrossed in paperwork, responded with youthful optimism, "Yes, Dad. You got answer to our questions, I assume?"
Raybarn exhaled deeply, "Indeed, though it has sprouted fresh tendrils of complexity. Pyvern's tales have shed light but have cast deeper shadows elsewhere." However, he carefully withheld the details of the mysterious alicorn, not wanting to burden his son further.
Feyn, perceptive as ever, cast a fleeting yet concerned glance toward Pyvern, sensing the depths of the latter's torment.
By the morrow, a peculiar amnesia seemed to envelop both father and son. Their recollections of the previous day at Alykarn's Guild Inn were reduced to a mere induction ceremony. But Raybarn, with an innate intuition only a seasoned investigator possesses, was consumed by a silent trepidation. While outwardly calm, the maelstrom of information and its inexplicable origins haunted him relentlessly.
In the intricate tapestry of memories, Pyvern's existence faded into obscurity, lost to the annals of time and forgotten by all who once knew him.