King Cedric, his face a mask of strained composure, surveyed the devastation. The battlefield was a landscape of charred earth and broken bodies. He addressed his assembled soldiers, his voice ringing with a forced authority that belied the turmoil within
"Clean up this mess," he commanded, his voice tight with barely controlled anger. "Search for survivors among the civilians. Find every single one of them, and bring them to safety. We cannot afford to lose any more." His gaze swept over the scene, lingering on the fallen, then he looked towards Gareth, a grim set to his jaw
He leaned in, his voice dropping to a barely audible whisper. "Gareth, go find that boy, Ivel. Take him into custody. Lock him away. He spoiled our plans. His unpredictable power is far too dangerous. We need to control him, or… eliminate him." His voice hardened. "The elves... Kaelion and Lirael. Don't hurt them. Keep them in a separate room. Give them good treatment, but make sure they have no weapons. And for the love of the gods, make absolutely certain nobody finds out that we were behind this dragon. Understand?"
Gareth, his face impassive, simply nodded. He understood. The King's words were a coded message, full of unspoken threats and implied instructions. He knew exactly what the King meant by 'eliminate.'
Gareth moved efficiently, his eyes scanning the battlefield. He quickly located Ivel, still unconscious from the mana overload, his body radiating a faint golden glow. He approached cautiously, the weight of the King's command settling heavily on his shoulders. He lifted Ivel gently, his gaze lingering on the young man's face. A flicker of something akin to pity crossed his features before he carefully carried Ivel away
Meanwhile, Kaelion and Lirael stirred, their bodies aching, their heads throbbing. They looked around, taking in the horrific aftermath of the battle. Faelar knelt beside them, his armor dented and stained with grime and blood
"You're awake," Faelar said softly, his voice laced with relief. He began to recount the events, starting from the moment they had fallen unconscious. He described Ivel's transformation, the golden aura, the incredible power he had unleashed against the dragon, the devastating spells and swordsmanship. He painted a vivid picture of the epic battle, detailing every breathtaking moment, every near-miss, and every stroke of Ivel's incredible strength. He didn't gloss over the brutality of the fight, but he kept his focus on Ivel's determination and his miraculous display of power
"He… he was unbelievable," Faelar said, his voice awed. "I've never seen anything like it. The golden light… the power… it was otherworldly. He bound the dragon with chains from the heavens! He summoned storms and rained lightning down upon it! And then… the final blow… it was like a legendary warrior from a forgotten age."
Lirael listened, her eyes wide with disbelief. "He… he actually defeated it?" she whispered, her voice laced with a mix of amazement and fear
Kaelion, still weak, leaned against a nearby rock. "I… I never doubted him," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "I always knew he had it in him. But this… this is beyond anything I ever imagined."
Faelar continued, "Then, after he killed the dragon, he cut open its stomach, found a black egg and put it away. But the strain... the mana overload... it was too much. He collapsed, unconscious. Then the King's forces arrived, all of them… and…" Faelar paused, choosing his words carefully. "...the King took Ivel away secretivly. He wants him locked away."
Silence fell between them, heavy and oppressive. The reality of the situation sunk in. Their comrade, their friend, the boy who had just saved the entire kingdom, was being taken prisoner.
"Why?" Lirael asked, her voice filled with anguish. "Why would the King do such a thing?"
Kaelion nodded slowly, his eyes filled with a chilling understanding. "It makes sense," he said grimly. "The King's been acting strangely for days now. More ruthless, more secretive... This entire battle… it was …all too convenient. Too… well-timed. The dragon...it was a distraction, a way to consolidate power, to eliminate dissenters, perhaps even to… claim the obsidian egg for himself."
Lirael gasped. "But why? What could that egg possibly be?"
Faelar shook his head. "I don't know. But whatever it is, it's clearly something incredibly powerful, and incredibly dangerous. The King wanted to control it, and Ivel... Ivel's power threatened to disrupt his plans."
As Faelar finished speaking, a company of King Cedric's soldiers emerged from the smoke and dust, their armor gleaming under the setting sun. They surrounded Kaelion, Lirael, and Faelar, their swords drawn
"You're under arrest," one of the soldiers announced, his voice harsh and unforgiving
Faelar, despite his exhaustion, reacted instantly. He drew his sword, his movements swift and precise, despite the lingering weariness from the battles. Kaelion and Lirael, though weakened, followed suit, their elven blades flashing in the twilight. But they were no match for the King's well-trained soldiers. The battle was brief, brutal and one-sided. Overpowered and outmatched, they were quickly subdued and bound
They were led away, Kaelion and Lirael escorted separately to a surprisingly comfortable room. The King, it seemed, was making a distinction between Ivel and the elves, their treatment a stark contrast to the fate awaiting the young warrior
Meanwhile, Ivel was taken to a dark, damp dungeon deep beneath the castle. The air was thick with the stench of mildew and decay. He was thrown into a small, stone cell, the only light filtering in through a narrow slit high in the wall. The pain from the mana overload was excruciating, a searing fire that spread through his veins. He was still unconscious, his body wracked with spasms, his senses dulled by the agony.
Days blurred into nights. The pain, the hunger, and the isolation were relentless. Ivel had fallen into a coma, a very deep slumber.
Although Ivel was in a coma. His ordeal was far from over; it had only just begun. The dark, suffocating dungeon became his personal hell, a testament to the king's cruelty and a chilling prelude to the many torments yet to come. The kingdom celebrated its victory, oblivious to the suffering of its savior, imprisoned and tortured in the depths below. The shadows of treachery had fallen, and the true battle had only just commenced.