CHAPTER 118: _LITTLE KYREN

Elian’s POV

*****

"Before I begin... Do you want to witness what I’m about to say from my lenses?" Kyren asked him with a sly smirk, while Elian finally finished eating the star hawk wing to the bones.

He swallowed hard, belching with a flustered expression. "Witness it?"

Kyren didn’t say anything at first, instead stretching his right hand to Elian.

Elian brought his eyes to the outstretched hand, squinting with suspicion.

"Magic is a very wonderful tool." Kyren continued, sounding ecstatic. "I can use mine to link your mind to certain memories in my head, making you experience it all like you were me."

Elian’s eyes widened in surprise.

[Yeah, and unlike when your consciousness travels out of your body, I’ll still be present in your mind. It’s all good.]

Elian still showed some hesitation, bringing his right hand slowly to the outstretched palm, his heart beating slowly.

But then—

Without warning, Kyren’s hand bolted forward, grabbing his firmly. Elian jolted, a gasp leaving his lips as his vision blurred.

"Sit tight, little flame." Kyren’s voice was a whisper in his mind as his vision tunnelled, seemingly travelling through a dark stellar vacuum.

[Alert! The host’s mind is linking with mate #3’s memories. Carefully selected memories.]

Elian’s brows furrowed but before he could even think, the sucking force of the "vacuum" stopped, the scenery changing completely.

He swerved his head around only to realise he was standing in the middle of a scorching desert with red sand, ashen clouds and an unforgiving fireball sun shining above it all.

He placed his right hand over his head, the moisture in his lips drying up quickly, his throat getting parched.

’These were all the things I felt that day.’ Kyren’s voice suddenly echoed in his mind, solemn but as firm as ever. ’The day I got exiled to the Dark Lands. Unwanted by the wolves of Lunaria and sought after violently by the witches of Arcadia.’

Suddenly, flashes of memories that seemed like they’d been buried under images of blood, death and struggle hit his mind in quick succession.

He saw a man, tall and donned in golden armour. The attire of the Lunarian army!

And standing beside him was a woman, donned in a dark purple hooded cloak, her sparkling red eyes instantly reminding him of someone.

... Kyren!

’My parents.’ Kyren’s voice was ever-present in his mind as the flashing images disappeared. ’You see, hybrid children weren’t exactly outlawed... But we were seen as dangerous wells of power. Power which neither Lunaria nor Arcadia could control.’

Elian’s eyes dimmed when sand began blowing around him, the wind picking up.

[Incoming war crafts behind you! That shouldn’t be good...]

A cold shiver ran down his spine as he slowly turned around, placing his right hand over his eyes because of the sunlight and staring into the clouds.

It was then that he saw them.

A fleet of about seven war crafts descending from the clouds, each of them glowing with purple runic symbols and whirring with a gust of wind that sent sand everywhere.

Elian took a few steps back as the war crafts slowly landed about a hundred meters in front of him, their black metallic doors opening up one by one.

’Arcadian war crafts,’ Kyren whispered in my mind. ’You’re witnessing the day when my father cut off ties from me and my mother completely because of his ’duties’ and how my mother sent me to the Dark Lands. A barren land where Lunaria’s worst of the worst rogue wolves were exiled to.’

’The High Matron of Arcadia insists that all hybrids are stripped forcefully of one of their sides before they are allowed back into civilisation. My mother ignored that rule.’

Realisation dawned on Elian when he saw people in dark cloaks that blew into the wind walking out of the war crafts and heading toward him.

They were here for Kyren.

Or, at least, the past version of Kyren that he was forced to live as.

"What happened next?" Elian asked cautiously, fearing the worst when he saw one of the witches bring down his hood, revealing a handsome man with a sharp jawline and hawk-like purple eyes.

"Kyren. Son of Amara Redthorn." The man’s voice boomed, carrying power that made Elian’s knees wobble with an odd urge to kneel.

An urge that Kyren’s child self apparently defied with pure will.

"How old is this body?" Elian asked out loud, mostly wanting to get an analysis from the system.

’Ten,’ Kyren responded instead. ’I was barely ten years old when this happened. Now, shh... You’re about to act out exactly what happens next."

Elian swallowed hard but before he knew what was happening, his lips seemingly opened on their own.

"What do you want? I’m not hurting anyone here in the dark lands." His voice was that of a child, confused and afraid.

But also... Daring.

"Oh, silly child." The man spoke with a cold voice, stretching his right hand to the side. "You might not be hurting anyone yet. But you will. And someday your power will be a threat to our great High Matron."

Suddenly, a book appeared in front of the man, glowing with a metallic silver-red shine. Its pages flipped rapidly before settling on one.

"Come peacefully, child. We’ll strip you of your predatory wolf side and train you in the richest arcane arts you can imagine. Your mother’s knowledge wouldn’t even come close."

Elian could feel the hesitation from little Kyren. Like he was genuinely considering the offer.

But alas, Kyren Nochthane wouldn’t have come this far if he had chosen the easy way out.

"You said I could grow to threaten the High Matron?" Little Kyren repeated the words and to Elian’s surprise, his own lips curled into a cruel smile.

He was stunned, feeling so much cruelty and bloodlust from a little boy.

[It’s not just any little boy. Kyren seems like he could have sociopathic traits... Scratch that, he is one. He’s just good at hiding it sometimes.]

"Yes, you heard me correctly." The leading witch frowned, his outstretched fingers twitching. "But that’s not—"

"Then if I’m set to become so powerful, I spit on the High matron’s rules." Little Kyren said defiantly as he pointed his hands toward the witches, causing them to clutch their weapons alertly. "I’ll carve out mine. Right here in the Dark Lands, away from your hypocrisy and Lunaria’s judgment."

Suddenly, the clouds rumbled with thunder, the wind whistled violently, and the sand around Elian—now little Kyren—blew into a full-on sand storm.

"He’s using magic!" One of the Arcadian people yelled out with a hiss.

"An attack on the High Matron’s emissaries is an attack on her..." The lead witch said, his fingers lighting up with a purple light as the glow on the floating book in front of him spiked.

"Very well. Kill him."

No sooner had that voice rang out than adult Kyren’s voice echoed in Elian’s mind:

’Careful, little flame. Because once you see too much of me... there’s no going back.’