The sky shimmered above the company as the silver phoenix beacon blazed brighter, casting long streaks of light across the heavens. The sigil's glow illuminated the forest canopy, turning the darkened woods into a pale, moonlit path. The call was undeniable—it was a direct summons from the High Council of Eryndral.
Drakar led the group forward, his stride unwavering. Emberfang padded silently beside him, his sleek fur reflecting the silver glow, while his eyes remained sharp and alert. Elaria walked on Drakar's left, her frost-blue gaze scanning the trees for any signs of movement.
"Do you think the Council knows what happened at the Hollow Bastion?" Kaelen asked as he adjusted the strap of his bow.
Vaelen nodded thoughtfully. "The Council knows everything sooner or later. This is no ordinary summons—they must be preparing for something grand."
Taronis's shield clanked softly against his back as he folded his arms. "Grand or not, they need to know that we're not messengers—they called upon warriors. And warriors deserve truth."
Elaria's lips tightened. "Then let's ensure they hear it. The realms need answers as much as we need direction."
The Clearing of Wroughtstone
The path opened to a vast clearing surrounded by jagged stones shaped like talons reaching skyward. A faint hum reverberated through the air as if the stones remembered old battles. In the center of the clearing, the light of the beacon coalesced into a physical form—a swirling silver portal, rippling with power.
Kaelen ran his fingers along one of the stones. "Wroughtstone… This was once a battlefield. The old histories say this place was where the first warbands of Eryndral made their stand against the Dral'Thar's shadows."
Seris stepped forward, her gaze fixed on the portal. "Then it's fitting that our next journey begins here."
The silver vortex flared as they approached, sending pulses of energy across the clearing. Vaelen muttered an incantation under his breath, his hand glowing faintly.
"It's stable," Vaelen confirmed. "This will take us directly to Eryndral's Bastion."
Drakar exchanged a glance with Elaria, and she gave a firm nod. "Let's move," he said.
Arrival at Eryndral's Bastion
The world twisted and blurred as they stepped into the portal. A surge of cold energy swept through their bodies before depositing them onto smooth, golden marble.
The sight before them was breathtaking. Towering spires carved from starstone stretched into the sky, adorned with banners that shimmered in the wind. The bastion itself rested on a plateau surrounded by cascading waterfalls that poured into the mist-covered valleys below.
Guards clad in silver and indigo armor stood in formation, their halberds gleaming under the midday sun. Their eyes widened slightly as Drakar and his company emerged, but they quickly straightened.
An elven sentinel stepped forward, her silver hair braided tightly, and her emerald armor polished to perfection. "Welcome to Eryndral's Bastion. The High Council is expecting you."
Drakar inclined his head. "Then we won't keep them waiting."
The Grand Hall
The Grand Hall of the Council was vast and circular, its domed ceiling painted with constellations that shifted and shimmered. Rows of thrones lined the perimeter, each representing a faction of the High Council. Elves, humans, dwarves, and mages sat in solemn reverence, their gazes fixed on the newcomers.
At the head of the chamber, a figure rose—an elder elf with hair like spun silver and eyes that glowed with ancient wisdom.
"Drakar Vorn," the elder spoke, his voice carrying across the hall with a resonance that felt like the hum of distant stars. "The realms owe you a debt for the fall of the Hollow Bastion. Yet, as one threat fades, another stirs."
Drakar stepped forward, his eyes steady. "The Dral'Thar's shadow stretches far. The Bastion was only a fraction of their power. We need alliances, and we need truth."
Murmurs rippled through the Council members. Elaria glanced at the assembled leaders, noting the tension in their faces—some hopeful, others wary.
The elder elf nodded. "You speak boldly. And you speak true. But there is another matter we must address. There is news of an unknown force gathering strength in the west—a power unlike anything we've seen. It has drawn the attention of ancient races thought lost. We may be facing more than the Dral'Thar."
Vaelen's eyes narrowed. "Ancient races? Who could wield such power?"
The elder's expression darkened. "The Myrrhkin, the serpent sages of dusk. If they have returned, the balance of this world teeters on the edge of ruin."
A tense silence filled the room. The Myrrhkin—beings whispered of in myths as seers of cosmic calamities—were thought extinct.
Elaria's fingers curled around the hilt of her blade. "If the Myrrhkin have returned, then the war has only just begun."
Drakar's voice was firm. "Then we prepare for what's to come. No shadows will catch us unready."
The elder elf's gaze softened slightly, but his words remained grave. "We will grant you the alliances you seek, Drakar Vorn. But be warned—the west is not a place for mortals alone. The echoes of ancient forces stir, and not all of them will offer aid."
Drakar met his gaze without wavering. "Let them stir. I will meet them."
A Flicker of Doubt
As the Council began murmuring among themselves, Seris stepped closer to Drakar. "Are we ready for this? We've barely had time to recover."
Kaelen adjusted his bowstring, his face unusually serious. "We've faced worse. But if these serpent sages are as powerful as the legends claim... we may need more than our current allies."
Taronis placed a steady hand on Seris's shoulder. "We didn't come this far to hesitate now. The realms chose their champion—and it's Drakar."
Vaelen closed the Codex of Eryndral in his hands, its runes fading as the pages sealed. "Then the Codex's whispers may be right. The Myrrhkin are not conquerors by nature—they are harbingers. Whatever draws them out must be more powerful than any of us have faced."
Emberfang let out a low growl as the sigil above the hall flickered. Elaria placed a hand on the beast's mane, her gaze unwavering. "Then we have no choice but to grow stronger—to be more than we were."
The Road Ahead
As they stepped out of the Grand Hall, the wind swept across the balcony, carrying the scent of pine and the distant roar of waterfalls. The sky had darkened slightly, streaked with crimson hues.
Drakar paused, staring into the distance. The weight of the world's expectations rested heavily on his shoulders, but the emberlight in his veins pulsed steadily.
"We have allies to find, ruins to uncover, and shadows to face," Drakar said quietly. "We've struck a blow, but the war is only beginning."
Elaria stepped beside him, her expression soft but resolute. "Then let's make sure the world knows we're not just survivors—we're the flame that will burn away the darkness."
The path forward was shrouded in uncertainty, but one truth burned brightly: they were far from finished.