CHAPTER 466: DRACONIC ESSENCE (4)

Lindarion had not slept. He stood where the highest bridges met the great trunk, the wind whispering around him.

His white hair caught the morning, a streak of living light, and his golden eyes reflected the sun’s rise with unsettling stillness. The Breath inside him was quiet now, purring faintly beneath his heartbeat, no longer wild, merely waiting.

Below, the city was waking. Elves moved along the suspended walkways, their voices soft but reverent. Since the duel and the change that followed, they had begun to bow when he passed, not out of duty, but instinct. He hadn’t asked for it, yet it happened all the same.

He adjusted the strap of his cloak and glanced toward the training grounds far below. Thalan was already awake, guiding the youngest students through their early drills. The rhythm of their blades and steps pulsed like a heartbeat in the distance. Life continuing. Peace, fragile, rare, fleeting.

A small shape darted from a nearby branch and landed on his shoulder. "You didn’t come back to sleep," Ashwing grumbled, eyes still half-closed.

"I wasn’t tired."

"Liar."

Lindarion didn’t argue. He simply watched the horizon again. The southern mists had thinned, and beyond them, far beyond mortal sight, he could feel the faint pull, the same whisper from the night before. The prison’s direction. Dythrael’s reach.

"You’re going to go there soon," Ashwing said quietly.

"Yes."

The dragon’s tail wrapped around his neck like a scarf. "Then at least eat breakfast before you decide to fight gods."

He almost smiled. "I’ll consider it."

Footsteps approached from behind, measured, soft, but certain. Nysha. She stopped a few paces away, her crimson eyes unreadable as always. Morning light glinted off her dark armor, highlighting the scar along her collarbone that she never bothered to hide.

"You were gone all night," she said.

"I needed silence."

"You found something instead."

He turned his head slightly, regarding her. "What makes you think that?"

"You’re standing differently." She crossed her arms, gaze narrowing. "Like the air listens when you breathe."

For a heartbeat, the corner of his mouth lifted. "Perhaps it does."

"That’s not comforting."

"It wasn’t meant to be."

She studied him for a long moment, then sighed. "The council will call you soon. The king feels the shift in the World Tree’s roots. He thinks something’s coming."

"He’s not wrong."

Her brows furrowed. "Then tell him what."

"I will," Lindarion said, turning fully now. "But not yet. Not until I’m certain."

Nysha tilted her head slightly. "You’re not the same, Lindarion. Whatever the tree gave you, it’s changed how it looks at you."

"How it looks at me?"

"The forest," she said simply. "And the people who belong to it."

He said nothing. She wasn’t wrong.

From below, a group of children ran past Thalan’s training field, their laughter ringing through the branches. One of them, a boy no older than eight, caught sight of Lindarion above and waved with both hands before realizing what he’d done. The child froze, eyes wide, then bowed so deeply he almost fell.

Lindarion’s lips curved faintly. He raised his hand, palm outward, a gesture of blessing older than any crown. The boy straightened, astonished, before Thalan’s voice called him back to practice.

The sound of it, the joy, the simplicity, cut through the heaviness in Lindarion’s chest. For all the ancient power burning in him, this was what mattered. That they could laugh in a world that wanted to swallow them whole.

He turned to Nysha. "If I leave, they must remain safe. That’s your task."

She didn’t argue. "You’ll be gone long?"

"As long as it takes."

Ashwing shifted, flicking his tail. "So we’re really doing this, huh?"

Lindarion nodded once. "We are."

A moment of silence stretched between the three of them, filled only by the wind and the quiet breath of the forest. Then Nysha spoke, softer than before. "Bring her back."

Lindarion’s golden gaze met hers. "I will."

They both knew she meant Luneth.

He turned toward the southern sky again, feeling the invisible tether pulling faintly at his heart. The Breath responded, thrumming in anticipation. He could almost hear Elyndra’s whisper again, Flame and root, bound in one. Burn, but not to destroy.

He stepped to the edge of the platform.

Ashwing spread his wings, scales catching the light. "Try not to look too heroic about it," he muttered, though his voice trembled with excitement.

"Heroism is your word, not mine," Lindarion said.

"Fine. Try not to look like you’re about to terrify an army."

"No promises."

He leapt.

The wind caught him instantly, roaring through the trees as Ashwing unfolded into his full form, a shimmer of silver and black, wings cutting the air in a thunderclap of power. Leaves spiraled in their wake as they climbed above the canopy, Lorienya unfolding beneath like an emerald sea.

From below, elves looked up, shielding their eyes, watching the white-haired prince rise into the sun. None spoke. None needed to. The forest itself seemed to bow as he ascended, branches bending, leaves turning their faces toward him.

Ashwing wheeled once above the highest spire. "Heading south, then?"

Lindarion nodded, his voice steady. "To the edge of the dark."

"And after that?"

He looked toward the horizon, where the faint shimmer of corruption glowed like a bruise against the dawn. "After that... we bring them home."

The dragon gave a low, satisfied hum. "Finally."

Wind screamed past them, carrying the scent of rain and distant thunder. Below, Lorienya glimmered in farewell, its roots whispering blessings, its light dimming slightly as if holding its breath.

The world had changed with him. And now, its guardian was no longer waiting.

He drew his hood up, the glow of his eyes dimming beneath the shadow. Ashwing banked southward, wings cutting through the clouds.

Behind them, the sun rose higher, spilling gold across the endless green. Ahead, stormlight, the broken lands, and somewhere far beyond, two imprisoned souls waiting in silence.

Lindarion’s hand rested on the hilt at his side. "Hold fast, Luneth," he murmured. "Mother. I’m coming."

Ashwing’s laughter echoed through the wind. "Let’s show the world why it shouldn’t have forgotten your name."

And with a single beat of wings, they vanished into the horizon, leaving Lorienya bathed in light, and the whisper of roots below singing their farewell.