Enquanto Aemon e Thorne caminhavam pelos corredores de pedra, o eco de seus passos se misturava aos sons distantes de vozes e atividades dentro do castelo. Havia uma crescente sensação de ansiedade no ar, especialmente com a menção do ovo de dragão. Thorne não conseguia esconder sua impaciência.
— Então o ovo está com Lilith? — Thorne perguntou, acelerando o passo. — Ela deve ter uma habilidade única com as runas antigas. Se alguém pode desvendar os segredos daquele ovo, pode ser ela.
Aemon assentiu, mantendo o olhar à frente.
— Sim. Lilith estava trabalhando na câmara de alquimia quando a deixei. Ela acredita que as runas no ovo contêm informações antigas, talvez sobre como Vaelgorth foi criado ou mesmo como despertar o poder ainda adormecido dentro dele.
Thorne soltou um suspiro pensativo, mas havia algo mais em seu rosto — uma mistura de esperança e desconfiança. Ele olhou para Aemon enquanto caminhavam, sua mente processando os eventos que estavam prestes a se desenrolar.
— Aemon, você sabe que agora mais do que nunca, Volcrist precisará de alianças poderosas. Estamos vulneráveis, e os subdomínios já estão começando a trair nossa causa. Qualquer fraqueza será explorada. — Thorne olhou brevemente para o jovem, sua voz assumindo um tom grave. — Você mencionou uma aliança com Lysanthor antes. Como planeja lidar com eles?
Aemon respirou fundo, uma leve tensão em seu rosto. Ele olhou diretamente para Thorne, como se ponderasse a profundidade da resposta que estava prestes a dar.
— Lysanthor é crucial. Eles têm poder militar e recursos que podem virar a maré a nosso favor. Mais do que isso, eles são estrategistas, formando alianças eficientemente. — Ele fez uma pausa, então continuou com uma leve ironia. — Por meio de casamentos, como você bem sabe.
Thorne ergueu as sobrancelhas, esperando por mais.
— E você está preparado para um casamento, então? — perguntou Thorne, com a voz carregada de ceticismo.
Aemon deu um leve sorriso, mas balançou a cabeça com determinação.
— Não. Casamento não faz parte dos meus planos. — Ele parou por um momento, deixando a dúvida pairar no ar, então, com um sorriso discreto, acrescentou — Mas tenho outra coisa em mente.
Ele deu um leve tapinha no ombro de Thorne sem explicar mais nada. Thorne, por sua vez, estreitou os olhos, ainda tentando desvendar os pensamentos de Aemon. O jovem guerreiro era imprevisível, e isso o deixou tanto desconfortável quanto intrigado.
— Você sempre foi um tanto enigmático, Aemon, mas espero que seu "algo mais" esteja à altura do que Lysanthor espera. Eles não são conhecidos por serem fáceis de negociar, especialmente sem a perspectiva de casamento. — Thorne observou mais de perto enquanto Aemon assumia a liderança, seus pensamentos vagando.
Enquanto seguiam em direção à câmara de alquimia, Thorne se perdeu em suas próprias memórias. Seus pensamentos voltaram ao Rei Morwin, o verdadeiro monarca de Volcrist antes de Cedric assumir o trono. Thorne nunca aceitou totalmente a transição. Morwin tinha sido um rei forte, sábio e determinado a ver Volcrist se tornar uma força inabalável no continente.
— Se Morwin estivesse vivo… — Thorne pensou amargamente. Ele não teria permitido que Volcrist caísse em tamanha desgraça. Era uma tristeza que ele carregava no peito desde o ataque brutal que levou o rei. E agora, vendo Aemon à frente, sua mente estava dividida entre orgulho e cautela.
"Será que Aemon realmente conseguirá levar Volcrist de volta ao seu auge?" Thorne se perguntou. "Ou ele também será engolido pelas intrigas e traições que parecem dominar este reino?"
Thorne suspirou, tentando afastar os pensamentos mais sombrios. De qualquer forma, ele sabia que agora era a hora do jovem tomar as rédeas. Talvez Aemon fosse o líder que Morwin esperava, e ele, Thorne, ainda estaria lá para garantir que as escolhas do jovem não o destruíssem.
Conforme se aproximavam da porta da câmara de alquimia, o suave crepitar das chamas e o aroma de ervas queimando enchiam o ar. A presença de Lilith aguardava além da porta, com segredos e respostas sobre o destino que aguardava não apenas o ovo, mas também todo o futuro de Volcrist.
A câmara de alquimia era iluminada apenas pela luz bruxuleante das velas e pelo brilho intermitente das brasas na lareira, lançando sombras dançantes nas paredes de pedra. No centro, Lilith estava curvada sobre uma grande mesa de madeira, estudando as runas antigas gravadas em pergaminhos desgastados. Quando Thorne e Aemon entraram, ela olhou para cima, pausando sua análise.
— O que posso fazer por você? — ela perguntou em tom direto, mas havia um sutil brilho de curiosidade em seus olhos ao notar a presença de Thorne.
Aemon assentiu levemente, sua expressão era determinada.
— Você sabe sobre o ovo. Thorne está aqui porque eu quero que ele veja.
Lilith suspirou, entendendo imediatamente. Ela colocou os pergaminhos de lado e caminhou até uma das prateleiras no fundo da sala, onde mantinha o ovo cuidadosamente protegido por panos de seda e runas protetoras. Cuidadosamente, ela o levou até o centro da mesa de pedra, seus dedos deslizando sobre as escamas prateadas como se tocassem algo divino.
O ovo, quando exposto à luz do fogo, brilhava sobrenaturalmente. As escamas refletiam as chamas da lareira, como se o próprio ovo estivesse vivo, pulsando com energia antiga. Thorne, ao vê-lo, arregalou os olhos em surpresa e reverência. Ele nunca tinha estado tão perto de algo tão poderoso e antigo.
— Pelos deuses... — ele murmurou, incapaz de desviar o olhar. — É realmente um ovo de dragão. As escamas... a magia que ele emana...
Thorne passou a mão no queixo, sua mente girando com o peso da revelação. Era a primeira vez em gerações que algo assim aparecia. O impacto que isso teria no futuro de Volcrist era incalculável.
Aemon cruzou os braços, observando a reação de Thorne com um olhar frio, mas controlado.
— Exatamente. E é por isso que pretendo usá-lo. — Ele falou com convicção. — Imagine o impacto de um cavaleiro de dragão neste mundo quebrado, cheio de desconfiança e traição. Quem ousaria se opor a Volcrist se tivéssemos o poder de um dragão do nosso lado?
Thorne balançou a cabeça, quase em descrença. Ele sabia que Aemon sempre fora ambicioso, mas agora, com um dragão potencialmente sob seu controle, ele podia ver a extensão total das intenções do jovem.
— Um dragão... — Thorne começou, sua voz vibrando com cautela. — Seria a arma mais poderosa que qualquer reino poderia ter. Mas e o ovo? Quanto tempo até... até que ele ecloda?
Antes que Aemon pudesse responder, Lilith o interrompeu com uma voz grave.
— Não será tão simples assim. — ela disse, com os olhos fixos no ovo. — Os métodos que usei até agora não estão funcionando. Tentei calor, magia de sangue, runas dracônicas antigas, mas... o ovo não está reagindo como deveria.
A sala caiu em um silêncio pesado por alguns momentos enquanto as palavras de Lilith ecoavam. A esperança que Thorne sentiu ao ver o ovo começou a dar lugar à dúvida.
— Então o que você sugere, Lilith? — Thorne perguntou, com a voz tensa. — Se não podemos chocar o ovo, que utilidade temos para ele?
Lilith levantou os olhos, seus dedos ainda tocando delicadamente o ovo.
— Estou estudando antigas tradições dracônicas. Algumas teorias sugerem que os ovos só eclodem em momentos de absoluta necessidade, quando o mundo está à beira de uma mudança drástica, ou quando um poder suficiente se aproxima. Talvez ainda não seja a hora. Talvez precise de algo... mais.
Aemon franziu a testa, ficando impaciente.
— Algo mais? O que mais poderia precisar?
Lilith suspirou, seus olhos penetrantes encarando Aemon com uma mistura de frustração e determinação.
— Não é sobre 'precisar', Aemon. É sobre ativação. Dragões são criaturas ligadas à magia, ao destino. Eles não nascem só porque desejamos. Eles escolhem quando emergir. E até agora, este ovo não viu necessidade de chocar. Talvez seja necessário um evento cataclísmico, algo que mostre que o mundo precisa desesperadamente de sua presença.
Thorne passou a mão pelos cabelos, visivelmente preocupado.
— Um evento cataclísmico... — ele repetiu, pensativo. — Com Volcrist à beira de ser engolido pelas traições dos subdomínios, isso não é o suficiente?
Aemon olhou de soslaio para Lilith, a impaciência crescendo em sua expressão.
— Custe o que custar, precisamos de resultados. Não temos tempo para esperar que o mundo decida por nós. O dragão pode ser a chave para retomar o controle, e Volcrist não sobreviverá sem essa vantagem.
Lilith inclinou a cabeça levemente, seus olhos brilhando com uma mistura de desafio e mistério.
— Vou continuar estudando. Ainda há outros caminhos a explorar. Mas saiba disso, Aemon... o poder dos dragões não pode ser forçado. Não importa o quanto você tente controlá-lo, o dragão tomará suas próprias decisões.
Aemon stood in thought for a few moments, reflecting on Lilith's words. Slowly, he turned to Thorne, his eyes gleaming with the determination of someone who knew the future of Volcrist was at stake.
— Thorne, you spent part of your life surrounded by dragons. How was Vaelgorth born? How did the egg hatch?
Thorne, who had been observing the silver egg with a mixture of reverence and nostalgia, shifted his gaze to Aemon. He crossed his arms, his expression growing heavier.
— Vaelgorth was born more by luck than by any planned method. At that time, we had the best mages and scholars working to decipher the secret of the eggs. Many believed the environment was crucial — the heat, the energy around it. But... — He paused, glancing at Lilith before returning his focus to Aemon. — Dragons make their own choices. They are loyal to their riders, yes, but only after they make their own decisions. No one can force a dragon to be born, much less to follow someone.
Aemon nodded, absorbing Thorne's wisdom.
— I see... — he said, his voice firm but tinged with frustration. — But what do we do if the egg doesn't hatch? We can't wait indefinitely. We need something concrete to show our enemies and allies that we are still strong.
He and Thorne began to discuss possible solutions, but both knew the situation was delicate. The symbolic power of having a dragon, or even the promise of one, might be enough to intimidate or attract allies. Yet, without the egg hatching, that power remained out of reach.
Lilith, who had been silent until then, interrupted the dialogue with a somber voice, her expression grave.
— Aemon... — she said, her eyes fixed on the egg. — You should hope this egg hatches first. Because, if you have one... there are more out there.
The tension in the room instantly heightened. Aemon and Thorne exchanged glances, trying to process the implication of Lilith's words.
— What do you mean? — Aemon asked, urgency clear in his voice.
Lilith leaned over the table, her fingers tracing the runes around the egg as if connected to the very magic of the object.
— If there is a dragon egg here, with you, then it is almost certain that other great dominions or even subdominions possess their own eggs. Which means... whoever manages to hatch theirs first will have an invaluable advantage.
Thorne, though visibly unsettled, didn't seem surprised.
— She's right, Aemon. — He spoke in a more serious tone. — Dragons are power. And in a war of dragons, age is everything. Size, experience, are the factors that determine who survives. Vaelgorth was young, a teenager when he fought, and was outmatched by a bigger, more experienced dragon. If another dragon is born before yours...
— We'll be defeated before we even begin. — Aemon completed, absorbing the gravity of the situation.
Thorne nodded.
— Exactly. And even if we manage to hatch this egg, it won't guarantee victory. We need to prepare it for war. Young dragons are powerful, but vulnerable. They need time to grow and gain strength.
Aemon clenched his fists, the weight of responsibility bearing down on his shoulders. He looked at the egg, as if he could feel the fate of Volcrist within its gleaming shell.
— Then we need a plan. — Aemon declared, his voice colder and more determined than ever. — If the egg doesn't hatch, we need a way to protect Volcrist until it does. And if other dominions truly have their own eggs, we need to find out where they are and act before they do.
Lilith crossed her arms, her eyes glowing with a hint of mystery.
— Perhaps... there are ways to speed up the process. Something we haven't tried yet. But it will require sacrifices and a deep knowledge of the ancient arts.
Aemon stared at her, knowing that this new journey was just beginning, and that the fate of Volcrist, now more than ever, rested in the hands of a few — and on the wings of a dragon yet to be born.
Aemon crossed his arms, his expression serious and determined.
— I plan to leave soon, within three days at most.
Thorne frowned, the concern evident in his gaze.
— Three days? — He shook his head, reflecting. — Why so soon, Aemon? What's rushing you?
Aemon sighed, running his hand through his hair, feeling the weight of responsibility growing heavier with every second.
— Volcrist needs alliances. — He began, his tone firm but controlled. — If there are more people like me, connected to dragons or capable of challenging the kingdoms with such creatures, Volcrist won't be able to defend itself alone.
Thorne nodded, but kept watching Aemon, as if expecting him to say more.
— Cedric... — Aemon continued, a slight tone of disdain in his voice. — He is not capable of leading Volcrist in a time like this. He is a proud and reckless man. He thinks more about his own power than the kingdom's.
Thorne tilted his head in agreement, but his eyes still reflected doubt.
— And where do you intend to go?
Aemon looked at the ground for a moment, as if weighing his words before finally answering.
— The Dominion of Lysanthor.
The name seemed to fill the room with an aura of expectation. Lysanthor was known for its strategic neutrality and strong alliances, but also for its rigidity.
Suddenly, an unexpected laugh broke the tension. Lilith, still holding the egg, looked up at Aemon with a defiant smile.
— Lysanthor? — She said, mocking. — Are you planning to marry, Aemon?
Aemon stared at her, unfazed by the provocation. His tone was dry and direct.
— No. Marriage is not the only way to form alliances.
Lilith raised her eyebrows, surprised by his response, but said nothing more, carefully placing the egg back in its resting place.
Thorne, who had been observing the exchange, finally intervened.
— Aemon... Even though you are the prince of Volcrist, you must remember that Lysanthor may not be entirely favorable to you. They are known for being cautious with whom they make agreements.
Aemon met Thorne's gaze, a cold gleam of determination in his eyes.
— I know. — He replied. — But I'll offer them something they won't be able to refuse.
Thorne frowned, suspicious.
— And what would that be?
Aemon smiled slightly, without revealing his plan.
— They'll see. And when they do, Volcrist will have the alliance we need.
Lilith, still with her back to them, made one last cryptic remark.
— Be careful, Aemon. Lysanthor plays a long and deadly game. And alliances that don't come with marriage often come at a much higher price.
Aemon ignored her, his mind already focused on the future.
As the days passed, Lilith worked tirelessly to try and hatch the egg, experimenting with ancient formulas and rituals, but without success. The egg remained untouched, resistant to any magical interference. Meanwhile, Aemon, Cedric, and Thorne gathered in an improvised war room, analyzing the uncertain future of Volcrist.
The devastation caused by the recent war was still visible everywhere: broken walls, ruined towers, and barren fields. The kingdom, once a symbol of strength and prosperity, now stood amidst the ashes, struggling to rise again. For Aemon, the only way to restore Volcrist was with a grand display of power and unity.
Cedric, on the other hand, remained focused on the throne, concerned about the legitimacy of his position. His reign was contested, and he knew it. There were whispers in the corridors, conversations in taverns, and discontent among the subdomains. Many questioned his leadership, and the absence of strong alliances only increased the doubts.
— Volcrist needs more than just physical reconstruction. — Aemon said as he gazed at the kingdom's map spread across the table. — We need to prove we're standing again, that we are strong and unshakable. Show the world that this kingdom is more than ruins.
Thorne agreed, though his face was marked by worry.
— A new beginning. — He murmured, looking at the visible wreckage from the window. — But with Cedric on the throne, some will never accept that. The dissatisfaction is growing, and it's not just among the commoners. Even the lords are questioning the legitimacy.
Cedric, irritated, clicked his tongue.
— Let them question. It was no different for the kings before me. The throne will always be a target for the discontented. Volcrist was destroyed under another's command, and now I am here to rebuild it.
Aemon glanced sideways at him, disguised contempt on his face.
— But will rebuilding it with the crown on your head be enough? — He asked, his tone laden with irony.
Cedric rolled his eyes, clearly tired of the insinuations.
— What do you suggest, Aemon? That I abandon the throne? Or bow down to your ideals of redemption?
Thorne, who had remained silent until then, intervened with a thoughtful voice.
— No one is suggesting that, Cedric. But we must admit there's a fragility in the kingdom. And without strong alliances, without something to set us above the other dominions, there won't be a Volcrist left to rule.
Cedric scoffed, but before he could respond, Aemon leaned over the table, pointing to a strategic spot on the map.
— We need to address this dissatisfaction before it turns into rebellion. And we need something big. Something that shows everyone that Volcrist has not only survived but come back stronger. — He looked at Cedric and Thorne. — The dragon egg could be that symbol. If Lilith manages to hatch it, everything would change.
Cedric, skeptical, crossed his arms.
— You're putting all your hopes in an egg that may never hatch. It's a dangerous gamble.
Aemon stared at him, his gaze firm and determined.
— Yes, it is. But it's a gamble I'm willing to make. Because if it works, no one will oppose us. And if it doesn't... then Volcrist is already doomed.
Silence fell over the room as Aemon's words resonated. Even Cedric, proud as he was, knew the situation was critical. Thorne, for his part, looked at the young prince with a mixture of admiration and caution. He knew Volcrist needed a new era, but he wasn't sure if this rebirth would be enough to heal the kingdom's deep wounds.
Finally, Cedric stood, adjusting his royal mantle.
— Very well. Do what you must. But remember, the crown is still on my head. And as long as I'm king, Volcrist will follow my orders.
With that, he left the room, leaving Aemon and Thorne deep in thought. The reconstruction of Volcrist was a heavy burden, and the currents of dissatisfaction seemed to intensify with each passing day.
In the first rays of sunlight filtering through the castle windows, Thorne stood by Aemon's bed, his eyes filled with determination and a hint of worry.
— Wake up, Aemon. — Thorne said, his tone firm yet gentle. — The day of your departure has arrived. If you intend to go to Lysanthor, you need to leave early.
Aemon slowly opened his eyes, feeling the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. He knew that the journey he was about to undertake would not just be a quest for alliances, but also an attempt to restore hope to a people who had suffered so much.
— Is it already so early? — Aemon murmured, still trying to stretch as he rose from the bed.
— Yes, it is. We can't waste time. I'll summon everyone to say goodbye to you. — Thorne said, already heading for the door. — They need to feel that someone is still fighting for Volcrist.
As Thorne left, Aemon quickly dressed, a mix of anxiety and determination swelling within him. He was about to leave everything he knew, but he was not alone; he carried with him the wishes and hopes of all who believed in his potential.
Thorne organized the gathering in the castle courtyard, calling together nobles, soldiers, and common citizens. Aemon joined him, and as he looked around, he saw familiar faces. That place, with all its scars, was filled with life and hope.
As the attendees assembled, a growing murmur filled the air, as if everyone was waiting for a signal. When Thorne raised his hand to call attention, a respectful silence fell over the crowd.
— Friends and citizens of Volcrist, — Thorne began, his voice firm and clear. — We are here today to bid farewell to Aemon, a prince who has risen in difficult times. He is not leaving just as our heir, but as the hope for a new future for all of us.
Thorne's words echoed, and Aemon felt a warmth rise in his chest. He was not merely a young man seeking alliances; he represented the strength and resilience of the people of Volcrist.
— Aemon! — someone in the crowd shouted, and soon others joined in. — Good luck! — more cheers echoed, creating a wave of encouragement.
Aemon looked at the faces around him, and for a moment, his insecurities and fears dissipated. He smiled, raising his hand in a gesture of gratitude.
— I promise to do everything in my power to bring a new day to Volcrist! — his voice resonated with fervor. — You are not alone; I carry all of you with me.
His words brought a renewed feeling to the crowd, and Aemon realized that as he left the kingdom, he would carry not only his name but also the hopes and dreams of everyone. The emotion was palpable; many eyes sparkled, some glistening with tears, but all with smiles of support.
Thorne, beside him, watched the scene with a satisfied expression. It was a moment of unity, a moment where the pain of the past became fuel for the future.
With the farewells finally concluded, Aemon prepared to depart. He took one last look at Volcrist, his heart heavy but filled with determination.
— May I return with good news, — he whispered to himself as he walked through the castle gates, resolute in fulfilling the mission he had accepted and, above all, honoring the trust placed in him.
Thus, Aemon embarked on his journey, knowing he carried the hope of a people in his heart, ready to face the challenges that lay ahead.