The tension in the room grew denser as Aemon remained silent, his gaze fixed on Cedric and Seraphine. Although he didn't show it, his insides simmered with discomfort and resentment. He knew of the betrayal. He knew that this mission, orchestrated by Cedric, had been a trap to kill him. And now, both were here, pretending a false union, as if nothing had happened. But Aemon held back, keeping his anger and frustration in check, waiting for the right moment.
Cerys, beside him, broke the silence:
— Killing Lord Dravenmoor was a mistake. He was too influential a figure, Aemon. The people won't accept this peacefully. There will be revolt. — Her voice was cutting but laden with a truth he couldn't ignore.
Thorne, usually neutral, nodded in agreement.
— Cerys is right. Lord Dravenmoor held high status, both among nobles and the people. His death will echo across the regions, and it won't be well-received. — He spoke calmly, but the weight of his words made the consequences clear.
Aemon frowned, his mind racing back to that decisive moment. Finally, he broke the silence.
— What should I have done? — He looked directly at Thorne and Cerys, then at Cedric. — Lord Dravenmoor killed the king. He was ready to kill me too. There was no choice in that moment.
Cedric, ever opportunistic, let out a sarcastic laugh, leaning back in his chair with a disdainful look.
— Ah, of course... There was no choice, right? — He spoke with a tone heavy with irony. — Maybe imprisoning the lord and judging him would have been wiser. Don't you think? Or did you, great warrior, find yourself without an escape?
Aemon clenched his fists, feeling the provocation, but before he could respond, he continued firmly:
— There was no time for imprisonment and judgment. We were on the battlefield, and he attacked me without hesitation. If I had hesitated, I'd be dead now.
The atmosphere in the room chilled as Cedric's challenging gaze and Seraphine's coldness seemed to prod at Aemon's insecurities. But he knew it wasn't the moment to back down.
Thorne, regaining his composure after the heated confrontation, took a deep breath and stood up from the chair.
— We need to appoint a new lord for Dravenmoor. — His voice was now steady, more controlled. — But that will have to wait. There are more urgent matters we need to discuss.
He paused, looking around the table to ensure everyone was focused on what was to come.
— The vulnerability of Volcrist is wide open. We are in the most fragile moment we've ever faced. — Thorne began to walk slowly around the room, his eyes shining with the gravity of his words. — The subdomains are rebelling, and the great kingdoms around us will not remain silent. They must already be forming alliances. Soon, Volcrist will be the target.
Cerys, arms crossed, nodded in silence, while Seraphine kept her gaze lowered, as if she knew that Thorne's words were an inevitable truth. Cedric, on the other hand, maintained his proud posture, though a hint of discomfort flickered across his expression.
Aemon listened in silence, absorbing the weight of the responsibility that now rested on his shoulders. He knew the challenge was not just internal; external forces would soon fall upon Volcrist.
Thorne continued:
— We need to prepare, Aemon. The subdomains have already shown they will not remain loyal. And those who have yet to rebel are, at the very least, pondering. They know Volcrist is weakened.
Aemon looked at Thorne and nodded, realizing the magnitude of the approaching threat.
— And what do you suggest, Thorne? — He asked, his voice firm but tinged with concern.
Thorne stopped walking and fixed his gaze on the young heir.
— We need to strengthen our alliances before they form against us.
Cerys rose from her seat with a determined posture, looking directly at Cedric before turning to Aemon and Thorne.
— My subdomain, Vaermere, will help Volcrist, but I want to make it clear... — she cast a piercing glance at Cedric, her voice laden with calculated coldness — we will not be loyal to him.
Cedric, offended, opened his mouth to retort, but Cerys continued before he had the chance.
— Cedric has proven incapable of maintaining stability, and many in Vaermere already despise him. If you want to save Volcrist, you will need to make difficult choices, Aemon.
Aemon frowned, intrigued by Cerys's suggestion.
— What choices would those be? — he asked, his tone serious.
Cerys leaned slightly forward, her eyes locked on Aemon's.
— The choice of being king. — Her words hung heavy in the air.
Before Aemon could respond, Cedric exploded.
— This is ridiculous! I am the rightful king! It is not the place of a bastard to usurp the throne!
Thorne, who had remained silent until then, let out a long sigh. He looked at Aemon with a mix of concern and wisdom.
— Cedric is partly right, Aemon. — His voice carried an emotional weight he rarely showed — It is dangerous for you to assume the throne now. You are a bastard child. You do not have the pure blood of the royal lineage. That would be a weapon in the hands of the great domains... They would see it as a break from years of traditions.
Aemon remained silent, feeling the weight of the responsibility and the decision that lay before him.
Seraphine was the first to speak, her voice soft but with a tone Aemon knew well.
— Aemon, don't take it the wrong way... — she began, her expression one of apparent concern, but Aemon could see the falsehood in her eyes. — This caution is merely a protective measure. You becoming king now is a risky move, even if the people are on your side.
Aemon absorbed those words, realizing that any discussion at that moment would be futile. He simply nodded slightly, showing that he understood but not revealing his true opinion.
Then he turned to Cerys, his voice firm.
— You don't need to be loyal to Volcrist, but don't betray it again.
Cerys looked at him for a brief moment, contemplating his words. Then, with a determined nod, she stood up.
— I understand. I will leave for Vaermere. There's much to be done.
She exited the room, leaving the atmosphere even more tense.
With Cerys's departure from the room, Thorne leaned forward, his inquisitive gaze fixed on Aemon.
— Now we can talk about something more... personal — Thorne began, his grave voice cutting through the silence. — What really happened to you, Aemon?
Aemon took a deep breath, hesitant.
— The mage who came with me... Lilith. She made me take a potion, saying it would awaken something inside me. A dormant blood — he paused, avoiding the gazes around him.
Before he could continue, Thorne stood up abruptly, his eyes narrowing in a mix of surprise and alarm.
— Now it makes sense... — he murmured, almost to himself. — Your strength, your abilities, your physical change... You took the Draconyca Blood.
Aemon frowned.
— Draconyca Blood?
— It's an ancient potion used to create a connection between men and dragons — Thorne explained, pacing the room, his tone grave. — It's not just any potion. It awakens a deep bond, making dragons recognize the man as an equal. To take this potion, Aemon, you would have to have... — Thorne stopped abruptly, looking directly at him. — A dragon.
Silence fell over the room. Cedric cast a disbelieving glance, while Seraphine remained still, observing each reaction with a face that concealed any clear emotion.
Aemon looked at Thorne, his heart racing but without an immediate response. The mention of a dragon hung in the air like a sword ready to fall.
Cedric was the first to break the silence, his voice laced with disdain.
— Don't be so hopeful, Thorne — he began, his eyes fixed on the counselor, with a hint of cynicism. — You know as well as I do that the dragons were extinguished in the last war. There are no remnants, no whereabouts. All that remains are legends and ashes...
Before Cedric could finish his sentence, Aemon interrupted him with an unsettling calm.
— I don't actually have a dragon — Aemon said, his voice firm and weighted, echoing in the room. — But... I possess the egg of one.
Aemon's words fell like thunder in the room. Cedric immediately lost his composure, his eyes wide, disbelief washing over his face. Seraphine, usually so composed, brought a hand to her mouth, her surprised gaze contrasting with her always controlled demeanor. Thorne remained silent, but his eyes sparkled with surprise and, at the same time, calculation, as if he were trying to grasp the significance of what this meant.
— An... egg? — Seraphine murmured, finally finding her voice, which came out almost as a whisper. — That... that is impossible.
— Impossible or not, I saw it with my own eyes — Aemon replied, turning to her with a grave expression. — And it's not just a legend. It exists, and it's within my reach.
Cedric shot up abruptly from his chair, disbelief turning into anger.
— You expect us to believe this fairy tale? — he roared, his voice almost booming in the room. — Dragons, eggs... all of this is just stories to frighten children!
Thorne, who had remained silent until then, raised a hand as a gesture to calm the emotions.
— Cedric, control yourself — he said, his voice returning to a measured tone. — If what Aemon says is true, and he indeed possesses a dragon egg... — Thorne paused, taking a deep breath as he contemplated the implications. — This changes everything.
Cedric huffed, still irritated, but couldn't help but fall silent in the face of Thorne's authority. The weight of what had been revealed hung in the air, dense, almost palpable.
— But how? — Seraphine asked, her eyes now filled with curiosity. — How did you find something like that, Aemon?
Aemon tilted his head slightly, still feeling the weight of the revelation he had just made.
— Lilith guided me to it. It's hidden, safe... But if it hatches, it will be a force that Volcrist has never seen.
Thorne stepped closer, his face serious.
— Aemon, do you have any idea what this means? A dragon egg... If the people find out, it could change the balance of power not only in Volcrist but in all the realms around us. They will come after you — he paused, his eyes fixed on the bastard — not to fight, but to destroy you before that dragon sees the light of day.
Cedric was still resisting.
— This is all madness...
Aemon remained steadfast, knowing that at that moment, he was at the center of a storm much larger than he had imagined.
Aemon took a deep breath, the weight of his next words even greater than the initial revelation. All eyes were on him, waiting for an explanation. He adjusted in his chair and, after a brief silence, began.
— I found the egg... — his voice came out deep, with a firmness that contrasted with the chaos of thoughts he must have been processing. — With the help of the mage who came with me, Lilith. We found it in a cave, hidden in the mountains east of Vaermere. The place felt... ancient, almost untouched. — He paused, observing the expressions of disbelief and curiosity around the table. — The egg was protected by layers of spells, as if it had been kept there for generations.
Thorne, who had been incredibly attentive, leaned forward, his eyes narrowing in concentration.
— Protected by spells? — he murmured. — If what you say is true, this isn't the work of just anyone. It must have been someone powerful, or an order with deep knowledge about dragons. Any trace of that? Any clue who could have done such a thing?
Aemon shook his head slowly.
— Nothing but the magical protections and some ancient runes, which Lilith is still trying to decipher. But the egg itself... is intact, pulsing with an energy that... — he hesitated, as if trying to describe it was a challenge in itself. — ...it's as if it were alive, waiting for the right moment.
Cedric, who had been holding back, exploded in a bitter laugh.
— You expect us to believe this? — His voice was cynical, but there was a hint of fear hidden beneath. — Dragons extinct for centuries, and you just stumble upon an egg... in a cave? And right with the help of a foreigner? — He shook his head in disapproval. — This sounds like a trap! And you, Aemon, are walking right into it. Lilith probably enchanted you. Who knows what that woman really wants?
Aemon shot a cold glance at Cedric, his patience beginning to wear thin.
— Do you think this is a coincidence? Or that I'm being manipulated? — He spoke slowly, carefully controlling each word. — Lilith could have taken the egg for herself. She is powerful enough for that. But instead, she helped me. Helped Volcrist. She believes that... — Aemon hesitated again, weighing whether to reveal what Lilith truly thought. — She believes I am the key to something greater. That the fate of Volcrist is tied to the awakening of this dragon.
Seraphine, who had been silent until now, leaned slightly forward, her piercing eyes watching Aemon with a mix of fascination and skepticism.
— And you, Aemon? — she asked, with her usual sharp subtlety. — Do you believe this? That a dragon egg — if it truly exists — will be the key to the future of Volcrist? Or do you think this 'help' from Lilith comes with a price you still don't see?
Aemon crossed his arms, taking a deep breath before responding. There was a weariness in his voice, a reflection of all the battles, external and internal, he had faced up to that point.
— I'm not naive, Seraphine. I know everything has a price, and Lilith certainly has her own motives. But... — he looked at Thorne, who remained attentive to every word — ...sometimes the right path is the one presented to us, not the one we choose. If this dragon is real, if it truly exists and awakens, Volcrist can be saved or destroyed.
Thorne, who had maintained an air of contemplation until now, clasped his hands on the table and finally spoke, his voice heavy with an authority that few would dare contest.
— The fate of kings has always been intertwined with that of dragons. If what you say is true, Aemon, and this egg really exists... — he looked around, letting his words echo in the room. — ...then we cannot ignore what is to come. The world will change. And we must be ready for it, be it with dragons, magic, or politics.
Cedric still stood firm, but his expression had become a mixture of frustration and apprehension.
— Ready? — he growled. — We are on the brink of a civil war, with the subdomains rebelling, and you want to tell me that we should worry about... dragon eggs? — He shook his head, incredulous. — This is a distraction, Thorne. And you know it.
Aemon, resolute, faced Cedric directly.
— It may be a distraction for you, Cedric. But for me, it's the fate of Volcrist. And if there's a chance, no matter how small, that this egg brings hope or power... then I won't ignore it.
Cedric scowled, biting his tongue. The tension in the room was palpable as everyone contemplated the implications of what had been said.
Cedric rose with a sneer, shaking his head in disbelief. He cast one last disdainful glance at Aemon before storming out of the room, closely followed by Seraphine, who whispered something to him as they both disappeared down the corridor. The atmosphere, once thick with tension, slowly began to calm with their departure, leaving only Aemon and Thorne in the grand council chamber.
Thorne, visibly relieved to be rid of Cedric's toxic presence, relaxed in his chair and finally turned to Aemon.
— Now that they're gone, we can speak more clearly. Aemon, tell me more about this egg and the cave... — Thorne began, but he was interrupted by Aemon, who whispered a single name.
— Vaelgorth. — Aemon said, his voice heavy with reverence and weight.
Thorne immediately stopped, his expression shifting from surprise to shock. His eyes widened, and he stood up from his chair as if struck by lightning. He knew that name well.
— Vaelgorth... — Thorne murmured, running a hand over his face in an attempt to process the information. — That name hasn't been mentioned in generations. — He started pacing back and forth, trying to organize his thoughts before finally turning to Aemon, his voice grave. — Vaelgorth was the dragon given to your great-great-grandfather, the last great protector of Volcrist. The egg was a gift of alliance between the houses. At the time, your great-great-grandfather was a young prince, still learning to fight but with a bravery that echoes in you, Aemon.
Thorne paused, absorbing the memory of what he knew about that time.
— Vaelgorth, when he was born, was immense for a young dragon, nearly 40 meters long when he reached adolescence. But that impressive size wasn't enough to protect him from the fate that awaited him. The dragon grew, and his bond with his knight, your great-great-grandfather, strengthened. Together, they swore to defend Volcrist against any threat that arose. But then... the war with Faelorn began.
Thorne's voice trembled as he remembered.
— The prince of Faelorn, Aredhel Faelorn, also had his own dragon. An older, larger, and more experienced beast named Vharzandr, nearly 60 meters long, covered in black scales with eyes that burned like embers. When the conflict between the realms escalated, the dragon war became inevitable. And on a fateful day, Vaelgorth and Vharzandr clashed in the skies above Volcrist.
Thorne closed his eyes for a moment, as if he could see the battle in his mind.
— It was a violent clash, indescribable. People looked up at the sky, terrified, as two titanic monsters launched themselves at each other. Vaelgorth, even as a young dragon, fought with relentless fury, unleashing blue flames that tore through the heavens, trying to bring down his foe. But Vharzandr, being larger and more experienced, was lethal in his movements. His claws, sharp as blades, sliced through the air, and he knew exactly where to strike. The prince of Faelorn, Aredhel, guided Vharzandr with precision, as if the two were one being.
— Vharzandr charged at Vaelgorth, his jaws closing on the young dragon's wings, tearing them apart in a cry of pain that echoed for miles. Vaelgorth, wounded but not defeated, retaliated, sinking his claws into Vharzandr's throat, opening a gash that made black blood flow like a river. It was a brutal fight. The sky turned red with the blood of both dragons.
Thorne sighed, his gaze lost in the memory.
— But for all of Vaelgorth's struggle, he was at a disadvantage. Vharzandr's experience and size were overwhelming. In a final move, Vharzandr grasped Vaelgorth in mid-air, spinning him in a spiral of death until both fell to the ground, shattering trees and mountains. The impact created an immense crater. Both dragons were mortally wounded. Vharzandr died first, choking on his own blood, while Vaelgorth, despite his bravery, vanished into the forest, likely succumbing shortly after. Your great-great-grandfather also perished that day, trying to protect Volcrist. It was a tragic end for one of the most promising dragons that ever existed.
Aemon listened in silence, processing each detail. The name Vaelgorth now carried an even greater weight for him, the story of his lineage intertwined with the legend of that dragon.
Thorne turned back to Aemon, his eyes fixed on him with renewed intensity.
— If the egg you found is Vaelgorth's... — he shook his head in disbelief. — This could change everything. That dragon was killed in battle, but if he left behind an egg... an heir... — He paused, as if the implications were too great to comprehend all at once.
Aemon remained silent for a long moment, processing the story Thorne had just told.
— If this egg is indeed Vaelgorth's... then Volcrist may have a chance. Perhaps it's a sign, Thorne. What was lost can be reborn.
Thorne nodded slowly, still immersed in the memories of the devastating battle.